“I miss everything about Chicago, except January and February.”
Chicago is my twice-a-year food mistress, and I love her for it.
I am an Illinois girl in a California world. Having grown up outside of Chicago, I have a great appreciation for wonderful food (see my previous post). But not highfalutin food with words I can’t pronounce—No, I love the simple yet delicious foods. I relish foods that inspire a good conversation with good friends over a long meal. It’s a part of our culture, our lifestyle. The food that you eat super fast or it feels that way because it is gone before you know it. That’s why our pizza (read: the best pizza in the States) is deep dish. It’s not supposed to be eaten on the run without interaction with anyone else; it is supposed to be enjoyed, savored. It is supposed to fill you and those around you up, both literally and figuratively.
Most people write about the excellent restaurants in the city proper. But I grew up in the burbs. So over those many years, I have some of my own local favorites that top the list of options whenever I make the trek home.