cklarock

When Sophie and I went to Chicago a couple of weeks ago for the Coheed & Cambria show, we ate at Moto Restaurant and had the 18-course GST tasting dinner.

Whoo, lawd.

My brother Drue and I had been talking about this place since they opened, and planning to do it, so once we arrived, Drue made the call, we were going to do it to death. Work that motherfucker.

18 courses of the most creative, light-hearted and satisfying food I've ever had, paired with 14 different wines over the course of four and a half hours. I cannot describe the wave after wave of mouthgasm -- I've tried, and words fail. When Sophie and I try to tell people what it was like, I can just watch their eyes glaze over.

"You can't call it the 'Nam unless you been there, man."

A thread talking about the food is available on the eGullet forums if you are interested in their approach to food as art and the art of flavor. The first post with pictures of the food is post #80 in the thread.

But even still, Moto wasn't my most memorable food experience of the trip. That honor goes to Wiener's Circle, an all-night hot dog stand near DePaul university.

This place is fucking hilarious. First of all, the deal is that the women who work there get to say whatever the fuck they feel like to the customers, absolutely no holds barred.

An example I overheard:

WOMAN BEHIND COUNTER #1 "Don't start no shit, won't be no shit, motherfucker. Look at you, goofy looking motherfucker, look like Ralph Macchio's stupid twin. The fuck you want, Karate Kid?"

Note: do not hem and haw when it is your turn to order at Weiner's Circle. This dude they were yelling at had kind of spiky black hair; not quite a High Maintainence Haircut, but getting there. Apparently, he hesitated.

WOMAN BEHIND COUNTER #2 "(to her co-worker) Fuck this motherfucker. (to the guy) Get the fuck out of line, bitch!"

WOMAN #1 "Come on, Ralph Macchio, order or get the fuck out of line."

He said something I couldn't hear and ordered. As he was leaving, she told him, "Get the fuck on out of here, Karate Kid. Somebody fucked your haircut up. You look like Sonic the Hedgehog."

I thought I was going to die laughing. It's supposed to be like that; they get to rail on us, and we get to laugh. Every body eats a hotdog.

But you know I wasn't going to subject myself to the cruel barbs of the eagle-eyed counter women. I shudder to think which semi-famous white person I would get compared to. So I did what any strategist might have done in that situation; I sent a reserve element forward.

ME (to my brother Drue) "You got the order?"

DRUE "Yeah, I got it."

ME (to self) "Mwahahahaha. This is going to get good."

I was really looking forward to whatever they might come up with. Drue is a very distinctive-looking dude. He's a handsome guy, but unique. I knew their barbs would hook and stick, and that I'd have something funny to call him for the rest of our natural lives.

Instead, the lady called him "baby," and "sweetie." She was all, "what do you want, baby," and "you want cheese on that, sweetie?"

What the fucking fuck?

My brother.