Golden Pacific Market

Laura needed fresh mint last night. The girl's been hooked on mojitos since long before her 21st birthday. At this point, it's more of an endearing quirk than it is a routine habit. We went to the Jewel in Andersonville, but they were all out-- this is almost always the case when I need something from Jewel.

Though, I'm probably not at liberty to complain too much, considering the only time I ever stop in is when I'm in desperate need of Greek yogurt and don't feel like making the trek to Trader Joe's or Whole Foods. This always tends to happen on a Sunday, when everyone else in Chicago is also, strangely enough, on the hunt for Greek yogurt (the stuff is damn good). Much like my Sunday dairy scavenging, Laura and I left Jewel empty handed.

Before she even had a chance to slam the grocery tyrants, I remembered the little Asian market next door. Actually, Chicago's Golden Pacific Market isn't little at all-- it just looks that way stacked against the big guys. We stopped in and, sure enough, we found some fresh mint sprigs. Some of them were a bit brown at the ends, but hey, they were dirt cheap and still reeked of minty goodness.

While Laura was busy rifling for the freshest herbs, I creeped into the snack aisle and loaded up on a few pre-packaged Asian goodies: dried wasabi peas, chocolate-infused crackers and a milky white chocolate bar (admittedly from Germany, but I needed a fix). Laura grabbed some Kasugai apple flavored gummies, sweet mini crackers and a carbonated lychee beverage. Neither of us spent a dime over $8. Our favorites out of the bunch were the little chocolate nibs that tasted like pocky, but looked like Goldfish crackers, and the heart-shaped apple gummis. Oh, and the mint was good, too.

Two Guacs and a Girl

Last Thursday I met up with two friends in two different restaurants. Go figure that they'd both be in the mood for guacamole.

6 PM: Ole Ole
Next to Carnivale's raspberry version, this Andersonville restaurant mixed up the best mojito I've had in Chicago. Rather than an overwhelmingly tall glass, the drink was served in a small rocks tumbler. And unlike many minty tipples I've had (and hated), there was no heavy dose of sugar overpowering the rum in this one. Ole Ole's bartender also used just the right amount of lime to bring in a nice citrus balance. I'm pretty sure the mint sprigs weren't slapped because their flavors weren't as detectable as they should've been, but that's a kink I can deal with.

As for the guacamole, my friend and I were both a little miffed about the low $6 cost, but our server assured us that it was all fresh and made-to-order. And then he asked whether we wanted it mild, medium or hot. Taking my companion's spice-sensitive palate into account, we opted for mild. Our server must've noted my dismay because he brought out a little ramekin of chopped jalepenos alongside the heaping square-shaped plate of guacamole.

A stark contrast to the reasonably sized mojito, Ole Ole's guacamole appetizer could've easily satisfied a table of four. But our mouths were too full to complain. The man was right, everything was fresh and prepared exactly as promised. Even the fried tortilla chips were packed with flavor. We've already made plans to head back soon, if only for the guacamole.

9 PM: Bar on Buena
I've been to the Bar on Buena several times. Initially it was the sweet potato fries and dirty martinis that warranted repeat visits and I wasn't ready to break away from the latter. So no report on mojitos at this place, but let me tell you about my martini. I ordered it with Bombay Sapphire and it arrived with no olives or garnish of any sort. One sip and surprise, it wasn't even dirty. Fortunately, when it comes to doin' it dirty or straight-up, I happen to swing both ways.

After a few quick sips, our guacamole arrived in a small, chilled white bowl with a separate basket of nearly-stale chips. The stuff tasted like it had been sitting in a cooler all day and, to make it worse, there was no trace of seasoning. Thankfully I was still full from Ole Ole's version.

I'm not writing off Bar on Buena just yet. I've had too many good experiences at this place to let one off-night knock it from my list of favorite neighborhood pubs. Also, the place is known for its burgers, beers and spirits-- but still, the bartenders here should be able to replicate those perfect martinis they've been known to shake up in the past.

One Tough Cookie

Sugar cookies are simple and I've yet to encounter a bad one. I mean really, all it takes is a heap of butter, a couple cups of flour, sugar and an egg. Add a dash of vanilla, refrigerate for a few hours and you've got yourself a mound of edible clay. Versatility is, after all, what makes this classic treat so appealing to the masses. You want a crimson-frosted heart? You got it. How about Barbie's disproportionate figure or, better yet, her little pink corvette? Done and done.

Not only do sugar cookies trump every other pastry's ability to morph into classic characters and toothsome organs, but the things never go out of season. St. Patrick's Day, Easter, Valentine's Day, Halloween,Christmas--show me a holiday that hasn't inspired a novel shape from the sweet dough. Hell, I've even seen a pair of freshly-pedicured and painted feet, ready to hit the beach, in the pastry case at Sensational Bites.

If ever in a pastry show-down, the sugar cookie would undoubtedly take the cake-- head on, in the form of frosted mini shotguns. A simple pastry, yes. But one of the toughest cookies to beat.


Here's a favorite, no-fail basic sugar cookie recipe, courtesy of Blueprint Magazine.

I Ate My Mail Today

It isn't too often that I'm excited to check the mail. Typically it's just a pile of crap from Comcast informing me of some 'limited time only' deal, coupons to joints that aren't even in reasonable driving distance and the occasional letter from a certain soldier. Nothing to gush over, really.

But for the past week I'd been checking the little steel box with all the enthusiasm of a toddler on Pop Rocks. I even searched the damn thing before and after U.S. Postal Service hours. Why, you ask, was I being such an irrational freak? Simple. Because I knew that at any moment that box would open to a pristine little package containing one of my favorite indulgences; chocolate.

Ah, yes. Chocolate. But not just any chocolate, mind you. This was not Hersheys, Mars, or Cadbury. And it certainly wasn't anything you'd find at the local Jewel, at least not yet. This one is a newcomer to the world of cocoa confections and it's appropriately called Chocolatea by Smile Chocolatiers. Back in March I mentioned my new love for the pistachio and green tea bar by the same company. One of Smile's employees happened to read the post and asked me if I'd like to try another white chocolate concoction, this time with rosemary tea (why, yes I would, thank you).

Upon my seventh visit to the mailbox today, it had finally arrived, all wrapped up in a lovely little package just like the candy of my dreams. Along with the rosemary tea confection was a smaller package containing four scaled-down versions of a few other chocolatea bars. These started with a white chocolate and gradually increased in cacao to 72%. Here's the line-up:

• pistachio green tea (37% cocoa butter)
• wild raspberry tea (37% cacao)
• coconut green tea (64% cacao)
• pomegranate white tea (72% cacao)

In all honesty, the rosemary tea just didn't do it for me. The bar itself was rather fetching, a solid block of pale pink cocoa butter flecked with bits of the flowery herb. I wanted nothing more than to dub this my new favorite treat, but the flavor and texture were off. There wasn't even a hint of white chocolate, and the signature infusion was so subtle that all I really tasted was a hunk of wax. Yes folks, it was kind of like chewing a candle. Perhaps my expectations were too high after the revelation I had after first trying Smile's pistachio green tea bar.

Regardless, the four tiny chocolates that I previously mentioned were nothing short of brilliant. I'm still trying to decide which is my favorite. I'd say it's a serious toss-up between the coconut green tea, which reminded me of a refined mounds bar (without the hard-to-chew middle) and the trendy pomegranate white tea with 72% cacao, because I just can't get enough of the dark stuff.

Eggless Chocolate Cake with Hops

Inspired by a recent NY Times article on the art of baking cakes, I decided to whip up one of my own. It's no secret that I spend most of my free time baking, but rarely do I tackle the ominous cake. Don't get me wrong, I'm all about the decadent fluffy stuff-- I just normally prefer to indulge in the treat when I'm at a bakery and someone else has gone through the labor of creaming, sifting, mixing, baking, cooling and frosting the thing.

Cakes are no simple feat. They're temperamental little bastards-- open the oven too soon or tread the kitchen floor too forcefully and there it goes, falling in on itself like a testy soufflé. The fact that my downstairs neighbors crank the bass on their stereo system so high (that I feel like I'm caving in on myself at times) had me just a tad worried that my rigorous efforts to compose the perfect cake would still fall short. Nonetheless, I set my mind on something chocolatey.

As I've mentioned in previous posts, my kitchen is not the most well stocked in foodstuffs. It is, however, loaded with all sorts of alcohol. And you can be sure there is always a stick or two of butter in my fridge. I had no sugar, but I did find a canister of flour and a box of unsweetened cocoa powder. Surely I could do something with these ingredients. I've never made anything cakey without eggs, but I knew there were countless recipes for such things. After using the gloriously convenient "ingredient search" on Allrecipes.com, I settled on the aptly titled Eggless Chocolate Cake.

The original recipe calls for a 12 ounce can of cola, something that I never have in my apartment because I can't stand the sickly-sweet beverage. This is where the alcohol comes in. I cracked open a can of Heineken (left over from my father's last visit) and dumped it into the clumpy batter. I've heard tales of successful chocolate stout cakes, but I had no idea how well the cocoa would blend with a pale lager. I was about to find out.

Forty-five minutes of bass-bumping and floor vibrations later, my beer-infused cake had risen! Too anxious to sit through the cooling process, I sliced a sliver from the end and plopped it in my mouth. The first thing I tasted was cocoa, which was suddenly overcome by notes of barley from the beer. The overall flavor was slightly bitter, but that's nothing a slathering of sugar-rich fudge frosting didn't fix. The texture was surprisingly airy, yet moist enough to nix the need for a milk chaser.

I have to say, I was quite impressed with the way it turned out considering the strange mix of ingredients. While it's probably best to stick with Guinness or a similarly dry stout, this pale lager cake is the perfect treat for anyone who loves hops.

Grilled Pigeon and Coffee Anyone?

If you're clueless about what flavors will amp up your apple or you're looking for something to serve with that stinky hunk of blue cheese that's been sitting in your fridge, you'll love the foodpairing tree by food for design.

Just click on one of the categories (herbs, spices, dairy, etc.) and you get a scientific layout of other foodstuffs that should pair appropriately. The site makes some snide remark about still needing the "craftsmanship and experience" to turn these "inspirations into a good recipe." But I'd say you just need a giant mixing bowl and a cabinet brimming with herbs and spices.

I checked out coffee and was not surprised to see chocolate in one of the most closely related groupings, but I never would've thought to drink the stuff with grilled pigeon, tortillas or oysters. Though, I can't say I've ever actually had grilled pigeon. Also, I didn't see cardamom branching out anywhere from the coffee root, which is one of my favorite morning treats. Take a few whole cardamom pods, crush and throw the seeds into some freshly ground beans and brew, brew, brew.

Pork Pastries

I'm not a fan of pork. If a friend invites me over for some pork-fueled fare, I'll happily indulge, but when given the choice I'm more likely to opt for beef, fish, or poultry. Hell, I'd even pick the one vegetarian dish on the menu if it saved me from gnawing away at a slab of pig all evening. At least those were my sentiments toward the stuff before I entered Chiu Quon, dangerously tucked just around the corner from my studio.

This Chinese pastry shop uses pork in almost everything, even cookies. My first trip to Chiu Quon was daunting, the minuscule storefront was jam-packed with Cantonese speaking patrons who knew exactly what they wanted. And then there were the little plastic containers of sweet and sour chicken feet staring me right in the face.

I quickly scanned the translucent case for anything that looked familiar. There were a few variations of nutty cookies--walnut, almond, sesame-- that were much lighter in color and crumbly in texture than the sugar-rich rounds you'd find in a standard American bakery. But this would've been taking the easy route and I was in the mood for something more adventurous (though not quite ready for the cackling images of chicken feet parading around my stomach), so I ordered up a pork sesame cookie for a whopping 60 cents. Everything was so damn cheap I was tempted to try it all, but first I had to taste this meat-filled treat.

Chiu Quon only has three tables and they were all full, so I grabbed the goods and headed home. Thank god I was eating this in solitude because I think I moaned after the first few bites. And a few bites were just about all I could take of the thing. The flavors were spectacular and I would've gone straight down to the crumbs had it not been for the cookie's extreme density. No worries though, I wrapped up the other half and had it for breakfast the next morning.

All heaviness aside, the pork sesame cookie was strangely brilliant. Once you bite through the first crispy layer, it becomes a chewy concoction bursting with toasty, honey-esque notes. Any expert pastry chef would probably cringe at this comparison, but, it reminded me of baklava. Baklava in cookie-form stuffed with meat and sesame, that is. While it's certainly more sweet than savory, the pork adds a healthy dose of salt which harmonizes quite nicely with the heavy-handed sugar.

Chiu Quon has quickly nestled itself into my list of Chicago favorites. It may have something to do with the fact that I only have to step a few feet from my apartment to get there, but for anyone off the radar, it's definitely worth the trip.

Chiu Quon Bakery
1127 W. Argyle St.
(773) 907-8888