Heaven on Seven

"The chinese use two brush strokes to write the word 'crisis'. One brush stroke stands for danger; the other for opportunity. In a crisis, be aware of the danger, but recognize the opportunity." - John F. Kennedy


I can't say with absolute certainty that when JFK gave this public address in 1959 Indianapolis that he was speaking directly to Chris Hartemayer, though I am pretty sure he was.  How else can one explain Chris's amazing ability to overcome the the constant crises that riddle his career and home life and turn seemingly insurmountable problems into delicious Cajun lunch outings? Crisis Chris didn't merely evade a self imposed scheduling crisis in organizing The LLC's fifth meeting this week, he faced it head on with the confidence and grace of a man who prevails over crises as often as WBBM radio provides local traffic and weather updates.

I've never been to New Orleans, but I can't imagine it's authentic to have this much Mardi Gras crap on the walls

This week the LLC took a trip down to the bayou and up to the 7th floor of the Garland Building at 111 N Wabash for the Cajun offerings of Heaven on Seven, a colorful and cluttered Louisiana diner hidden high up in the Chicago skyline.  Upon entering we were greeted by a balding host with an insincere smile and a napoleon complex.  This man would later yell at our waitress, a very pleasant young lady who did an excellent job solving the diet coke refill crises that Chris continuously burdened himself with due to an unnatural and unquenchable thirst for 0 calorie refreshment. The restaurant's interior looked exactly as I imagine Stacey King's kitchen pantry looking like if Kyle Korver decided to appease the color commentator's demanding appetite for spice and actually gave him a bottle of hot sauce every time he attempted a three point shot.

I was surprised the bottles were only decorative until I considered expiration dates

Having a Midwestern upbringing in both language skills and culinary tastes made the menu at Heaven on Seven read like a Stephen King cookbook in which every chapter frightens you although you already know it ends in a stomachache.  As a group The LLC seemed to possess a very limited collective knowledge of the Creole food culture.  None of us knew what qualified a sandwich as a po' boy and I'm still unclear on what jambalaya is or how anyone who doesn't worship Satan can eat 'voodoo sauce' before noon and live to tell the tale.

Fittingly, I had my own crisis this week.  After lunch I was headed straight to my first day on a new job, so what could I order off a menu where every item is either 'southern fried' or contains words I don't understand without the assurances that come with carrying a travel sized bottle of Pepto Bismol?  Astonishingly, I opted for the BBQ pulled pork po' boy.  This choice was in part due to alliterative appeal but mainly because it was the only option that wasn't a complete wild card.  I found the po' boy to be exactly like every other sandwich I have eaten. My first bowl of gumbo did not inspire a desire for more gumbo in my life.  My first fried green tomato could very well have been my last.

Oh Boy Po' Boy! I can feel the heart burn already

Without LLC godfathers and quote machines Dan Spira and Rob Anderson in attendance this week's meeting lacked the usual offbeat discussions.  To fill the void we attempted to describe Mr. Spira's personality to our guest diner, a man whose name and origin are unknown to me.  "In four words," began Nick Nikitas, who had clearly used this line before, "more than a gentleman." I chose a more specific description: "Average golfer." In retrospect I could have added, "fantastic celebrity impressionist and deadpan food critic."

While this review may come off as a tad negative, I still very much enjoyed the food, atmosphere, and company while dining at Heaven on Seven.

Heaven on Seven Notes:

• A second "cash only" financial crisis for Chris in only 5 weeks
• Above average accessibility due to 7 fully functional elevators
• They were out of the freshly squeezed lemonade by 11:30
• Upon reaching the street after the meal Dan Ofman, motioning to an alleyway and clutching his gut, had this to say, "I don't need a bathroom, I can just throw up over there."