Top Notch Beef Burgers

2116 W 95th St
Chicago, IL 60643
(773) 445-7218

Calling oneself 'Top Notch' forces one to live up to a high standard. Such a standard must apply to the food, service and environs.

the bathroom

We wandered into Top Notch after a long day spent outside. We were a little cold and in need of a neighborhood staple. Top Notch! Of course.

the bathroom

Our large party was seated at the back of the restaurant but I didn't feel any shame in that. We sat at the kings' table - the only table big enough for a bunch of hungry neighborhood tourists who'd just toured all around Beverly. I don't eat beef and was very happy to discover that Top Notch has a variety of tasty turkey burger options. Since these are old-school type burgers, they're on the thinner side. So, do yourself a favor and order a 1/2 pound deluxe (onions - grilled or raw, pickles, lettuce, tomato, ketchup, mustard) with cheese (jalapeno peppers) and a 1/2 plateful of very seasoned and great tasting hand-cut fries. Oh, and a bottled soda. I chose grape. Our waitress was awesome. She took everyone's order, asked questions and repeated them so as to confirm she was correct in her notation. Was she a chatty Kathy? No. But, she did her job with polite professionalism and kept it moving. I appreciated that.

the bathroom

I'm a bit OCD, so after a day of trekking through neighborhoods, I tend to enjoy washing my hands before eating. I excused myself from the table so as to wash up in the bathroom.

the bathroom

That bathroom was one I had seen before - in my nightmares. Before I had fully judged the room, I closed the door, turned on the dingy light, walked in and turned the knob. What was a routine act of making sure no one walked in on me, unknowingly became my tomb. I turned on the faucet, washed my hands, lowered the faucet with my wrists and looked for an air dryer. That's when I saw it: one of those cloth towel dispensers that go every which way but clean. You know, the kind that rotate around and around, but is only as clean as the hand dried before yours. Terrified of what a black light would reveal on my cloth antagonist, I looked for a way out of the restroom but there was no way out! I couldn't dry my hands on the terror wheel, nor could I open the door handle sans paper protection. After, what seemed like an hour, I looked to the sky, gulped hard and...I can't reveal the awful truth of that day. ..i...just...can't. *choke* *sob*

I returned to the table, shaken but determined to eat my meal. With an unsteady smile, I resumed the conversation. The food came out and I was pleased with my selection. I ate everything but wasn't fully invested in my meal or company. My mind was elsewhere. You see, I had to go home, take a Silkwood shower and cry.

If in the neighborhood, I'd probably go back. I'd just bring some Purell and (page from the waitresses' playbook) keep it moving.