If you’re getting over the Coronavirus, have I got the place for you. Yes, it’s a Chinese restaurant, or Chinese by way of Hong Kong, located in Chicago’s West Town, called Lao Peng You. This means “old friend” in Chinese, a nod to the fact that this spot serves the nostalgic grandma cuisine of owners Daniel and Eric Wat’s childhood.
Duck blood and other mystery meats. Despite the fact that I would like this to be the name of my future band. It is not. Rather it’s a descriptor of my first-generation Polish childhood, of the tripe-filled Sunday visits to see my babcia and dziadzia (grandma and grandpa).
The greatest Chicago chef stroked out on his couch, alone, in the dark at 54 years of age. Right now, if you are a young social media food influencer, and especially if you didn’t grow up in Chicago, you may not even know who I’m talking about.
OMG. This wine is rancid. I’m gonna die.
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions;” -Theodore Roosevelt