People often focus on the downside of drinking, like how it makes some people crash their cars into buildings, or how you feel a kinship with death during the morning hangover. However, inebriation also has its delights. There’s the giddiness and belief in all possibility that grips your brain somewhere after the third libation. Drink is also responsible for the glory of the early morning fourth meal, which, as long as there is any decent measure of grease, sugar, and salt involved, tastes like the greatest thing you have ever eaten. There are whole institutions, the $2 slice joint, dirty water hot dogs, and here in Chicago, Flash Taco, that would not exist without liquor-induced palate goggles.
Thomas was a third-grade thug. He was the kid who got paddled by the principal monthly for infractions ranging from taking nips of art class mucilage from Elmer’s rubber orange nipple, to contorting his face grotesquely and eliciting guffaws from fellow classmates behind the teacher’s back.
Love has done a lot of things for the world, but it has not brought me great bulgogi. That is until now, for Sol’s on Sheridan, a new Korean restaurant in Uptown that serves great red chili-slathered beef, has landed in Chicago as a result of a great love affair.
There aren’t too many iconic foods that have been invented as a form of revenge. But according to legend, that’s exactly how Nashville hot chicken came to be.
“Girls,” “Entourage,” “Sex and the City.” At their core, these shows promote the mythology that groups of very different friends—despite porn-star lovers, terrible jobs and psychiatric disorders—always stick together and make time for weekly cocktails and banter. As we watch, we too dream of meeting our friends at a bar or restaurant where everyone knows our names and we can sing karaoke versions of our favorite Kanye West songs and escape our day jobs over cosmopolitans (or perhaps shots of Malort are more appropriate)