Chicago. The Windy City. Home of the Cubs, Da Bears, killer chocolate mousse, and Annie Dickerson.
We arrived Monday afternoon, August 14 at the apartment of Aaron’s college friend, Annie D., a woman as passionate about reform in the Chicago Public School system and her 6th grade students as she is about delectable desserts. She’s got a sweet apartment just a block away from her school that is draped in rich reds and browns with two fantastic “eggplant” couches compliments of Craigslist.
While the Chicago police department installed an electric blue strobe light with 360 degree security camera on her corner, we caught up on the past couple of years and I (Alyssa) got the chance to meet this vibrant, loud-laughing Annie person about whom I had heard many good things. Her hospitality and warmth bespoke a giving, gracious woman whose life pursuits overflowed with energy. (She spoke of her desire in years past of wanting to get "burned out.")
We decided to make the evening’s activity a kitchen fiesta. Aaron was getting antsy to use the cookbook I gave him for his birthday a couple of weeks ago. It’s the cookbook we used for the main course of the six course French meal we made for Ben and Ariel in July, satisfying a two year old debt Aaron incurred by getting a cell phone before Ben.
“The Balthazar Cookbook” is full of tantalizing pictures and elaborate recipes, and after salivating over its pages for a while, we agreed on a honey-dijon glazed trout recipe served over a bed of balsamic-walnut sauteed spinach with a smattering of bacon and thyme lentils. Mmmm...
A quick trip to the Cub grocery store and soon we were all bustling about the kitchen, as though we really were chefs at the famous Balthazar restaurant in New York. Suffice it to say, it was scrumptious with a light glass of white wine.
As if that wasn’t indulgent enough, we ended the night with a trip to
Margie’s, a diner flashback to the ‘50's with handmade candies and mustard-colored vinyl booths. Following Annie’s recommendation, we had a round of turtle sundaes, oozing with all manner of caramel and fudge goodness. And that was just the beginning...
Chicago was one of my first trips west of Eastern Standard Time. I didn’t know what to expect from an Arctic city that kept time differently than most people I know. As it turns out, I think I would be very happy living in Chicago, at least on beautiful summer days.
Annie’s apartment is within view of
the L, and if you’re sitting on her third story porch when a train passes by, you’d think you were directly under the tracks.
After a lazy morning and breakfast at a friendly, artsy coffee shop nearby called NoFriction, Aaron and I boarded the blue line of the L in the direction of downtown Chicago. By the time we met Annie and her trivia-savvy boyfriend Josh in
Millenium Park several hours later, we’d worn out our backs and feet trekking around the Sears Tower (did you know that if you include the radio spires on top, it’s still the tallest building in the world?), the Chicago River (did you know they dye it bright green every Saint Patty’s Day, no joke?), Navy Pier (where we kissed at the top of a huge ferris wheel that I swear I’ve seen in some popular 90's TV show), and Lake Shore Drive (did you know that Lake Michigan is WAY prettier than the Jersey Shore?).
Millenium Park was a decided high light. We splashed around in a huge puddle that the city installed between two
enormous fountains. Underneath the cascading water of these two “brick” towers, faces of Chicago kids are projected. When they pucker their lips, watch out A fire hydrant gush of water sprays forth, much to the delight of drenched and squeeling children.
A little uphill is an outdoors concert hall where an operatic choir happened to be practicing for Wednesday’s free concert. Within hearing of that is
the bean. No, I mean it. It’s an enormous, shiny chrome pinto bean precariously balanced on it’s belly. People wander around as the curves distort and invert the crowd. The west side of it reflects a panorama of the city’s skyline. It’s cool.
Back to the L for a claustrophobic ride home. Ever had orchata? It’s cinnamon spiced rice water, and it was the highlight of our dinner from
Los Comales, the Mexican joint next door.
It seems that dessert is a shared passion for the four of us, so after a picturesque night drive down Lake Shore Drive along the skyline, punctuated by endless Chicago trivia from Josh, we snuggled into a booth at
The Italian Village (oldest Italian restaurant in the city) where we were lulled into a nearly lifeless state by the good music, thick Italian accents, rich desserts and coffee.
We left Chicago the next morning with the lingering sweetness of good company, good food, and good city sights inviting us back someday soon.
i loved having you guys there. please come back again, and continue to have fun in your travels!!
