Pastoral

"The poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese." - G.K. Chesterton

Perhaps the poets simply lacked a muse as inspiring as the arrangement of cheeses offered by Pastoral at 53 W Lake. Dan Spira's selection for The LLC's eight meeting, the quaint artisan cheese and bread shop, was a welcome change of pace for the group.  "This does have a European flair to it," said Nick Nikitas, aptly describing the single table store lined by bottles of wine, fresh baked bread and organic preserves. If not for the juxtaposition of the all 80's pop soundtrack one could easily have mistaken Pastoral for Positano. I arrived half way through "Take on me" and left with "Love is a battlefield" stuck in my head.

They had olives to sample, but not any of these cheeses.

If you're looking for a sandwich atmosphere for an NFL Sunday I recommend Perry's Deli. If you're looking for a sandwich atmosphere for some Frasier reruns I recommend Pastoral.  That being said, Pastoral does offer free beer and wine tasting events that both John Madden and Kelsey Grammer could enjoy.  Being only partially employed and less than a year removed from college I came dangerously close to ordering a morning beer, but having just brushed my teeth it seemed especially unappetizing.

The menu at Pastoral is almost as difficult to decipher as the check from The LLC's earlier trip to The Pittsfield Cafe. Most sandwich options had a minimum of one word that I will simply never know the meaning of but will always assume could be replaced by 'cheese'. I chose not to go for the add-ons, not because I don't like them, but mainly because I wasn't sure if "quince and apple fig black tea spread" goes well with a BLT. They also offer whole grain mustard. I wonder how that works.

At the risk of sounding like a sandwich art elitist I simply can no longer think of the work produced by Subway employees as art.  A Subway sandwich is like a caricature when compared to the well crafted edible art form that is the Pastoral Bacon Lettuce Tomato Avocado.  With each bite more bits of bacon would fall and collect in a salted and cured pile of prosciutto. It was nice having those to look forward to. I made the wise decision to "pastoralize" my lunch. It turns out that meant I added drinks, chips and a cookie. It didn't mean the sandwich was blessed by an ordained Christian leader.  The rest of The LLC didn't seem quite as taken with their lunch experience.

I thought the bread was the best part.

"Everything tastes different," said Dan Ofman as he grimmaced at his San Pellegrino, "it's like it's...of better quality."  It's important to remember that Dan has a caricature in his bedroom of his adolescent self knocking a dinger out of Comiskey Park and is a regular Subway consumer. He's also a Nicholas Cage fan. Some people don't understand art.

A guest of The LLC and hopeful 'Chopped' contestant, Steve Lake, had this to offer: "The bread is too hard, it hurts my fragile mouth."

Echoing this sentiment was another guest, Nick's fiance Liza Wadlington, who thought her sandwich was "awkward to eat." Perhaps this is because she never took hers out of it's original casing.  I welcome the challenge of hard bread and appreciate the animalistic ripping of my food to shreds with my teeth.

The post meal silence was broken by none other than Dan Spira, who declared his selection a success.  "Very tasty," he exclaimed, with both an inflated stomach and sense of self worth, "good choice by me."

Yes, Dan. Good choice.

Pastoral Notes:

• There was an expected absence of Rob Anderson and a last minute cancellation from Crisis Chris.
• Dan Ofman was worried his chair would collapse beneath him.
• I'd like to print a retraction for last week's post. I've been told Kirstie Alley has once again dropped some weight. Sorry Kirstie.

Luke's

"The tradition of Italian cooking is that of the matriarch." - Mario Batali

A look at Luke's

It's hard to argue with the man who owns Iron Chef's highest winning percentage (79.2%), but how could any female, Italian or otherwise, be the creator of the Italian beef sandwich? This sandwich epitomizes masculine cuisine, maximizing protein and simplicity while literally dripping with testosterone.  Batali would most likely respond by telling me I'm an idiot and that the Italian beef sandwich originated in 1930's Chicago.  The LLC is also a Chicago institution, which explains why Rob decided on Luke's at 215 W Jackson as the spot for our 7th meeting.

The Hawk, taking me under his wing

I arrived about fifteen minutes late to this week's meeting on account of a run in with the legendary voice of the White Sox and inventor of the batting glove Ken "The Hawk" Harrelson.  After hearing the Hawk's sweet, reassuring voice regale me with stories of baseball's golden age I found myself surrounded by it in the 1950's soda shop decor of Luke's.  The interior designer for Luke's most likely moonlights as the director of marketing for Coca-cola as the walls are covered in vintage signs and logos appear on every stool. Between all that and the red and white picnic tablecloths it felt like dining inside a gigantic peppermint.  Giant things aren't hard to come by at Luke's.  In any direction diners can marvel at the enormous novelty condiments hanging from the ceiling, most likely taken from Kirstie Alley's fridge. (A cheap shot, I know.  She was #1 in searching "fat celebrities" on google. Personally I think she's still got it.)

Well...her hair looks nice

Like most places with a Vienna Beef sign in the window Luke's was in violation of its maximum occupancy of 63.  It's understandable; they offer a good quality meal and a very reasonable price.  The menu includes everything from pastas to salads to burgers and desserts.  Rob and Dan Ofman put both their heads and stomachs together and decided to split a calzone, beef sandwich, and sausage. While none were overly impressive they deemed them all adequate.  The calzone, however, "didn't taste fresh" according to Dan.  He did go on to assure me that if more of it were available he would eagerly continue shoveling into his face like the Italian bambino he is at heart.

Spira had a beef with his Italian beef

Spira and I opted for the Italian beef.  I liked mine, but not enough to Facebook like it.  The bread left much to be desired but for the price and quickness it's a good deal. Spira didn't think quite as highly of it.  "It's decisively not as good as Portillo's," he said over the two unused ketchup containers he filled for no apparent reason. Honestly, I don't think Spira should be considered an authority on Italian beef considering how he neglected to order peppers, giardiniera, or any other topping on his sandwich. My belief is that had he grown up on Luke's, he'd find it "decisively" better than Portillo's.  I know I'm being hard on Spira, but it's just an effort to take his mind off the impossibly pressure packed pick he has to make for next week's meeting. Good luck buddy! Better not let us down...

Luke's Notes:

• I'd rather have McDonald's fries, which are worse than Berghoff chips, than Luke's fries.
• Absence of Nick Nikitas and Crisis Chris seriously detracted from the experience/average height of the group.
• The most memorable discussion topic revolved around what qualifies a chicken dish as being "tenders." Consensus: Boneless 

Saigon Sisters

"In food, as in death, we feel the essential brotherhood of man"- Vietnamese Proverb

Food, not death, brought the brotherhood of The Loop Lunch Club together this week for our sixth meeting at Saigon Sisters' 567 W Lake location. Members of the Loop Lunch Platoon had to march, crawl, and cab their way through the urban jungle, braving 90 degree temperatures to protect their right to a midday meal.  Rob Anderson and Dan Spira arrived first with their cell phones, wallets, and appetites. These were The Things They Carried.  We were set to ship out at noon, but Nick Nikitas was missing in action and Chris Hartemayer had been captured as a prisoner of crisis. Sure, we had all heard horror stories of life in Vietnamese restaurants, but it wasn't until I enlisted The LLC for Saigon Sisters that the myths became our reality.

I made this week's selection based on a friend's recommendation. I had never been to Saigon Sisters but I envisioned it as a rundown Vietnamese tent with full chickens hanging on hooks and various species of Southeast Asian rodents scurrying about. I prepared myself for Apocalypse Now or the endless monsoon of Forrest Gump. Instead I found a clean, modern downtown restaurant as innocent as Operation Dumbo Drop and as high spirited as Good Morning, Vietnam.  With air conditioning, hot and cold running water, and what Spira described as a "surprisingly clean" restroom Saigon Sisters had all the amenities one would expect to find at the Hanoi Hilton.

The house specialty is banh mi, a French influenced Vietnamese sub sandwich. The floor to ceiling chalkboard menu, which was limited in selection but physically enormous, also offered salads, soups, rice bowls and banh bao (Burrito : Taco :: Banh mi : Banh bao).  "The rice bowl caught my eye," said Spira (below, left), "because it was more in line with my expectations." One thing Spira would learn about being in 'Nam: expect the unexpected.

Spira reads up on rice bowls and Rob prepares to deal a left handed Rambo chop to an innocent customer

None of us exhibited Uncommon Valor when it came time to order. Both Ofmans, as well as Spira and Nakitas (perfect names for a show on TNT) ordered the pork belly banh mi while Rob opted for "The VBQ," just as i predicted he would prior to his arrival. My first bite was on the section of sandwich with the highest concentration of jalapeno.  After recovering sensation on my tongue I found my banh mi tasted great and was only improved upon by the array of available sauces. Hoisin, Sriracha, and an unmarked bottle of red mystery sauce made each bite a unique and flavorful experience. "Quite good," (Lieutenant) Dan Ofman said between inhalation of sandwich halves, "hot fresh bread...can't get enough pork!"

Despite only being there for a short time we had already developed a first name basis with the staff. They knew us because we gave them our names and I thought it was safe, though politically incorrect to call them Charlie. "Hey Dan," Charlie said reaching over the counter with banh mi in hand, "can you pass this to Rob?"

Bobbo's Banh Bao

If we came for the banh mi, we stayed for the banh bao. These dough wrapped Vietnamese sliders were particularly well received by Rob, who expressed an interest in ordering multiple banh bao in place of a banh mi. It would be like a Vietnamese Dollar menu, only their currency is called the Dong. I would hesitate to order off the Dong menu.

Our tour of duty in 'Nam may not have been as harrowing as others, but I'm proud of my men for surviving it. We crawled through a river of Sriracha and came out clean on the other side. We were soldiers. We ate lunch.

Saigon Notes:

• No green berets were seen, but they are trained to be invisible.
• Complimentary body lotion in the restroom. Slightly odd.
• Some grumbling was heard from the group concerning the extra few blocks of travel. Perhaps they don't realize how brutal my Metra commute is each week.