It isn’t exactly clear how I ended up a follower of “Growing Up in Chicago” on Facebook. It is true that I grew up in the Windy City and some of the postings do challenge my memory. And I’ve learned a thing or two (so far) about my hometown and its denizens whose diaspora has provided more than a few of us calling countless places home.
And what do lapsed Chicagoans talk about? Food.
Nothing, or so it seems, piques the interest of my fellow travelers than a serious discussion about where to find the best Italian beef sandwich and whether it is permitted to have cheese atop that seriously wet sandwich that is best eaten standing at a counter to allow the au jus to drip to the floor between your feet.
Every restaurant worth its salt serves the Chicago-style Italian beef—a culinary tradition begun by Italian immigrants with their push-cart kitchens on Maxwell Street on the city’s South Side. It was a bustling hub of discounted goods and street vendors. That same neighborhood, gone now, also became a battle ground for hot dogs (kosher beef) and Polish sausages (you really don’t want to know). Though there’s nothing in writing or in the city’s charter, but you’ll not find ketchup—a condiment acceptable in most places—except for french fries. But what goes best with well-salted fries is a mornay sauce or garlic aioli. Even then, many of us like plain mayonnaise for dipping.
It’s been fifty years since I called Chicago home. The intervening years have found me indulging in the specialties of such places as Cleveland (pierogi), New York (deli), Champaign, Illinois (beer by the pitcher), and Los Angeles (whatever is trendy and over-priced). Montana, of course, is known for its beef.
When I go to Seattle, I like food that used to swim. Shrimp with linguine is what I had one day last week when I was supposed to be eating hot chicken at Hattie B’s and ribs at Swetts Barbecue during a planned three-day visit to Nashville. Sadly, it snowed and sent Tennessee into a tizzy. My ticket was cancelled, and I flew back to Montana where the snow presents few problems.
I’m eager to revive my visit to Nashville. I am curious to know how their hot chicken differs from ours. I’m guessing that Nashville’s hot chicken features heat-sensitive spices.
Wherever we might find ourselves in our travels, it is wise to get information from locals about where to yield a fork and knife. Geri used to ask the “night auditor” at whatever motel we may have stopped in our journey for recommendations.
“Geri,” I’d venture, “they make minimum wage and don’t have the money to eat at the best restaurants.”
Indeed, recommendations for Sizzler or IHop frequently topped the list. Of course those might, in fact, be the best restaurants in town, in which case Burger King takes the day.
To ask a Chicagoan where to eat would probably draw a response of a finger-pointing “over there.” As is true in most big cities, restaurants seem to exist on every corner. Many of those in Chicago lay claim to being somehow definitive of both the culture and the cuisine.
There is no better example of such nonsense than Chicago-style pizza. I used to have pizza frequently. It was after my departure from the city that deep-dish pizza came into being. Through clever, insistent marketing, a variation of Sicilian-style pizza became Chicago- style pizza.
The real Chicago-style pizza features a variety of toppings on a thin crust. And it’s cut into squares, not slices.
Photo illustration by Courtney A. Liska
Chicago-style Italian Beef
“I’m not too crazy about Italian Beef sandwiches (Especially dipped).” –Nate C. Mills
1 boneless beef roast, about 3 pounds with most of the fat trimmed off (top sirloin, top round or bottom round)
The seasonings
1 tablespoon ground black pepper
2 teaspoons garlic powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon dried basil
1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper
The juice
6 cups of hot water
beef base
The sandwich
10 soft, fluffy, high gluten rolls, sliced lengthwise but hinged on one side or Italian bread loaves cut widthwise into 10 portions
3 medium sized green bell peppers, sauteed until soft
1 tablespoon olive oil, approximately
1 cup hot giardiniera
Brown the roast and add it to the slow cooker with the seasonings and juice.
Cook on high for 5-6 hours or on low for 9-10 hours until the beef is fork tender.