Dolce

4114 N Kedzie Ave
Chicago, IL 60618
(773) 866-1910

Oompia Lumpia
Doopia Doo
I have another riddle for you

Well, I actually don't. But I couldn't resist talking about Pinoy food without the bad pun. Sorry. And, in the spirit of openness, I am friends with a good friend of the owner. That said...

THIS PLACE IS GOOD, Y'ALL!! I came here for the soft opening and I liked it right away. First off, it's in Irving Park. When's the last time you came to Irving Park? I love patronizing places in non RiverBucker Park North. That was the first awesome. I was able to find ample, easy, non metered parking. That was the second awesome. A man who reminded me of the Simpsons' Crazy Cat Lady started yelling in my direction when I parked. That wasn't awesome...but had nothing to do with Dolce.

The inside - easily, the third awesome. There's hard wood, exposed brick and an open floor plan. As the place settles in, I'd like to see more done with seating options. There are a lot of two tops around the perimeter and a lot of unused space. As I think this could be a group destination, I'd like to see more seating geared towards parties of five or so. But, this is a hiccup. I was here for the food. (But, before the food, I hustled some friends in a Filipino card game. That was the fourth awesome.)

The food (fifth awesome) is centered around Filipino, Japanese and Italian food. Right now, all three types of food are served separately. As Dolce gets its sea legs, I'd like to see some fusion in the dishes. More on that later. Since it's BYO until the liquor license thing works out (read: pay the alderman), I came prepared with a South African rose'. It was the perfect match to my Asian pork-y dinner. For appetizer, I had the lumpia. As I said in my Isla Pilipina review, I could eat lumpia whilst writhing in condiments for all the world to see. It's delicious. And it's delicious here. My main course was the Tocino. In.Credible. It's crispy, sweet, savory, tender, amazingly flavorful pork. I don't know how they get one pig to be so many things, but I applaud them for the result. The Tocino was served with rice and small, dressed salad. Delicious. Dessert was creamy green tea ice cream and that was a hit as well.

As delicious as the food is, I suggest switching it up some and fusing some of the dishes. For example, serve the Tocino with ginger-infused rice. Maybe the lumpia could be served with some sort of marinara/pepper-type sauce instead of the traditional sweet and sour. And the green tea ice cream? That could be green tea gelato. All I'm saying is you have three great cuisines to pick from. Why not try switching it up and playing with flavors? My consulting fee is in the mail.

The sixth awesome - the crowd. Wow! There were some smokin' hot folks walking around. Usually, I only say that when Jerome is holding my mirror, but I have to give props where they're deserved. Food tastes better when you eat it around sexy folks. It's a fact. It's why you see my life-sized cutout in so many Michelin rated restaurants. Don't hate. I'm just sayin'.

And I'm sayin' you should get a bottle of your favorite wine, head to Irving Park with some friends, look grown & sexy and prepare to spend an evening eating great food in a great space. Just don't be distracted by the disarmingly attractive man you see in the corner. I'm not really there. It's just my cardboard cut out. Mmmm, doesn't that food taste better already? That's the seventh awesome.

Ping Tom Park

300 W 19th ST
Chicago, IL 60689

On the disaster that was the Chinatown tour, Ping Tom was the shining light - and we never even made it there! That's ok. More for me. Ping Tom is a perfect example of why I decided to do the tours. I wanted a chance to highlight parts of Chicago that some folks can go their entire stay here and never experience. This is one of those spots.

Peace. I find peace at Ping Tom. Once you navigate through secret paths and cross railroad tracks to get to it, you'll be welcomed with open arms by the Four Dragon Gateway. These gigantic columns are covered with impressive etchings and gleam at night. Passing through the Gateway, you'll arrive at the China-style pavilion. Take a load off and contemplate the Chicago River. I promise you, the view will be one of the best of the River that you've ever had.

If you can motivate to move out from under the pavilion, cut left. To the right is the playground. Kids are cute and all, but I'm going for enlightened serenity not, "Timmy, sit down. Sit.Down. Honey, please don't throw those rocks. *Sob* whywon'tyoubehave?" So, cut left. If you do, you'll find concrete and dirt paths beset by those giant flowers that look like cotton balls, large bamboo trees, enormous ginko...wait a minute. It's sort of like the island of King Kong, now that I think about it. The vegetation is monstrous. But, beautiful. So, as long as none of it asks you to "feed [it], Seymour," you should be fine.

If man-eating plants aren't your thing, venture close to the water...and look up. The park is an old railyard and some of the equipment still towers above the river. The riverbank is at a bend in the river, so you can view it with some perspective to its flow. It, too, is quite pretty. It makes an impressive postcard at dusk.

Ping Tom is a respite from the insanities of urban life. Chicago is blessed to have many amazing and distinct green spaces. You owe it to yourself to experience them. Summertime lasts only a moment these days. Spend a few seconds of that time adding some yin to your yang and visit Ping Tom park.

Lao ShangHai Restaurant

2163 S China Pl
Chicago, IL 60616
(312) 808-0830

*Channels 1990 Julia Roberts - post-skank, newly 'prettied' in a snooty Rodeo Drive boutique*

Big-a$$ Hat? Check.

Jewelry? Check.

Pretty pretty princess dress? Check.

"Hi. You're the manager around here, right? You work off [reviews], don't you? [points to below recap] Big Mistake! HUGE!!"

I set up a reservation for 13 hungry Chicagoans to dine at Lao Shanghai as the restaurant of choice during the Chinatown neighborhood tour. I spoke with the manager, confirmed my party's number, time of arrival, preference of table and tastes. From scouting the location, I knew that the restaurant valued the positive reviews from diners.

Excited from reading the reviews, I was set for great food and an exciting recap set to the tune of "Boom Boom Pow." (It was going to start "I ate some Bomb Kung Pow, I said, "It tastes like 'Wow!'" Tragic, the loss.) Such a recap was never to occur. After a morning of snafus, crowded plazas and a foretold fate of marrying a mean, nagging woman, I (and the rest of the tourists) showed up at 2:28 pm for our 2:30 pm reservation. My friend, Awesome Alice, took the point while I held the door for the others. She spoke to the manager, furrowed her brow and called me in. The manager had given away our table not ten minutes before. Listen to me: THE MANAGER GAVE AWAY OUR TABLE BEFORE OUR RESERVATION. Un.Acceptable.

I tried to stay calm. I asked him when ("Uh, just a second ago."). I asked him why ("Uh, I don't know."). I asked him what (now) ("Wait for another table."). I asked him where ("At these tables." "YOU MEAN THE TABLES WITH PEOPLE JUST STARTING THEIR MEALS??!!"). By the time I got to "how", I had to leave. I was going to hurt him. I had 13 hot and hungry people I had led to Chinatown and promised a great meal. That wasn't going to happen through no fault of my own - but from the willful unprofessionalism of Lao Shanghai's management.

As we walked the green mile to Happy Chef, I looked back at the front window. It was full of positive reviews. After our group's piss poor treatment at the restaurant, I wonder where those reviews came from and if those reviewers had had reservations. You like reviews, Lao Shanghai? I got your review right here!

The Red Canary

695 N. Milwaukee Ave.
Chicago, IL 60642
(312) 846-1475

If Blue Canaries hang out in outlets by light switches and Black Canaries fight crime, what do Red Canaries do? If this place is any indication, they kick puppies. Wow. Complete let down, this place was. My friends and I scouted this place as a possibility for upcoming birthday celebrations - either for dinner or drinks. It failed in every aspect.

Building: It's in the old Avenue M spot so anyone who was there, has been here. With the exception of chandeliers and red walls, this place looks the same...that is, if you can see it. We came here at 7 and it was pitch black inside. We could barely see each other and we were sitting by a window. Not good. The bathrooms are at the end of a long hallway. I liked this. You could model strut (and smile with your eyes) your way past the kitchen and strike a pose before doing your business. But, if you do, you better have some hand wipes with you. The bathroom was sans hand towels. Not THAT big a deal...except the guy who came out of the bathroom before me was an employee. Not good. From what I heard, the women's bathroom had a large crack in the mirror. Isn't that "The Omen"-style bad luck? Not good.

Food: At the price point the food is offered, it's way overpriced and under-served. We ordered about 6 entrees between the four of us. I was underwhelmed. Hmm, let's see. Fries: ho-hum. Jambalaya: bland (former New Orleanian here). Pork belly. Good. SHORT (you ain't just whistlin' Dixie...) rib. Dunno (don't eat beef). Lobster something. Boring. The croquette. Ok. But nothing wowed me. To be fair, nothing was awful. But, for the portion size you get and the quality of the food, either lob off a couple of bucks here or there or make the portions bigger or....make it better. Butbutbut, Johnny T...the chef has worked at the best restaurants for the past FORever!! So? George W has degrees from Harvard and Yale. Your point is...? Paying A prices for C quality is not the business. Not good.

Drinks: Weak. Our first round was a complete disaster. Nothing we ordered had ANY kick. Nor did they have the proper ingredients. One round of libations was frustrated by the lack of ORANGE JUICE behind the bar. Really? No Orange juice? Stop. Just stop. Shut the doors. Drive to Dominick's. Buy some d@mn OJ. Not good. For a place that specializes in drinks, I expect them to wow me. Violet Hour. Wows. Tiny Lounge. Wows (and incapacitates). This? ..... Try to say something nice about the drinks...Oh! Ice is a special feature of many of the drinks here. Rather than alcohol or mixers, you'll find the drinks at Red Canary lovingly filled to the brim with boulder-sized ice cubes. 'Ice' is the new 'drink 'in 2009 dontcha know.

Service: The wheels? They are off. Way off. It took twelve minutes for the waitress to greet us. We should have left. When she finally came by, she told us that the bussers would be by to give us some water. And they did - at the end of the meal. [I kid you not. They walked past our table all evening and not once stopped to give us (fill? Ha!) water until our food was gone.] Embarrassed that no one had come by, the waitress generously filled our glasses with cucumber water. We didn't realize this was a good thing until we suffered through drinks with no mixers, no choice ingredients and/or no...drink. But, at the end of our meal, we couldn't get the bussers to stop serving us water. And plates. After a meal of snafus, the busser came by and gave our party small plates and new silverware. "Oh, we're getting comped desserts. Cool." No. He was JUST PLACING THE PLATE AND STEMWARE FOR THE NEXT CUSTOMERS WHILE WE WERE STILL SITTING!!! I asked him, point blank, what he was doing and this is what he said. Not good. Scratch 'not good.' Try health code violation! I was incensed at this point.

I asked for the check.

There's some weird math thing going on here. Busser to waitress face time is an inverse ratio. The more we saw one, the less we saw of another. We flagged our waitress down and asked for the check. We waited. And waited. We lay our heads down on the table. We told the table next to us to leave & save themselves. AFTER TWENTY-TWO MINUTES, the waitress comes by and claims that the printer was unable to print checks. Orly? My friend, Lady J, springs into action, goes to the bar, demands our check, HAS ONE PRINTED OUT and gets a $35 comp. Then, the waitress comes back to the table and claims credit for the comp - in front of Lady J! Ballsy or stupid? I don't know. To her credit, the waitress grimaced and mentioned what a 'disaster' the evening was. One star for absent lucidity.

To wit: Red Canary is to restaurant/lounges as sharts are to thong bikini bottoms.

Martini Park

151 W Erie
Chicago, IL 60610
(312) 640-0577

As some bimbo wailed "So What?" on the karaoke stage, I saw a white 'roided out bodybuilder with t!ts bigger than Dolly Parton and a spray tan that made him darker than Wesley Snipes.

Is that cute?

My friends and I sat/stood next to a table of wh0res - complete with pimp/fat John. Seriously. The madam rolled up in her Bentley, double parked outside the bar, gave the girls the what for for not working with the client and getting out there and making money - and then she took off into the night...no doubt on her way to lead Pat Benetar down the path of marching an army of street walkers to rise up against the gold toothed.

Ok, the madam was sorta awesome. One more star for her.

But, for real for real - who *are* these people? Do they really live in Chicago? Is this some sort of experiment? What is this place? It's as though I paid $10 to drink expensive juice and witness the Viagra Triangle form an unholy union with River North sports bars. This is the place to be to see skunk hair, skanky women, fake b00bies and guys with big asses. It's true. I have never seen so many men with huge a$$es in one place. Does Chicago have an obesity problem or is J-Lo spiking Lake Michigan?

The band transitioned from "Rock Your Body" ("Heeey!!") to "Sweet Home Alabama" (not "Heeey!!") seamlessly. That's not a compliment. Somehow, Miami met Carbondale on the way to Las Vegas. When keeping it chill goes wrong, there you have Martini Park.

This place makes no sense.

We Won't Forget About You

R.I.P. John Hughes.

Palette Bistro

2834 N Southport Ave
Chicago, IL 60657
(773) 477-2565

You broke my streak!

Due to a healthy mix of alchemy, ESP and computer algorithms, I am the go-to guy amongst my friends when it comes to selecting restaurants. Usually, I get oohs and ahhs. This time I got, "What chu talkin' 'bout, Willis?" and plentiful side-eyes.

I suppose this experience can best be summed up as a HOT MESS.

Hot: the place was stifling! There was no a/c in the restaurant and we suffered for it. The windows and doors were open, but tropical breeze, there was not. For being in the Windy City, this was one stagnant night. I saw my friend's hair go from full to limp. My underwear stuck to me in places that...well, I should not discuss them in public forums. My buddy - a man of great patience - continuously wiped his brow and fought back annoyance of sweating into his food. Just getting through the meal was exhausting. Sweltering is only fun in saunas, steamrooms and beaches - and those all involve some aspect of nudity. Here, no nudity. Just heat. Not fun.

Mess: everything else. I knew the evening was starting on a bad note, when I could barely make out the menu. This place is DARK. Romantic lighting is low. Horror movie lighting is pitch. This was closer to the latter. And the music...no. I think we heard the entirety of The Light's™ morning rotation. "Daniel" doesn't make me want to get my groove on. Depending on my emotional state, it makes me weepy or contemplative. NOT.Romantic. Ever.

Okay, so bad lighting and music. What about the food? Heh. This. We asked our waiter about the deal of the evening. Soup/Salad, Entree & Dessert for $25. Sounds good. He rolled his eyes at us like we were cheap skates. "Do you, at least, want some appetizers?" he quipped. Translation: how cheap are you? Really? It's YOUR restaurant's deal!! Incidentally, this was the last meaningful interaction we had with this guy. Foolishly, we obliged him and ordered the antipasti and portabella mushroom apps. The antipasti tasted like Water air with a side of Paper. Nothing. It.tasted.like.nothing. I shouldn't have complained about that. "Nothing" tastes better than nasty. The other app? Nasty. The mushroom tasted like burnt garbage. I felt myself developing heartburn with every nibble.

But wait. There's more! The entree. I ordered the pork belly. I received pork jell-o. It weebled, wobbled and made me gag. It was brown fat. Typically, bacon (amazing, yummy, delicious bacon) is made from pork belly. The only thing that could have been made from this pork belly was tears. Horrible. Laughingly, I anticipated dessert. I ordered the chocolate molten cake. There was nothing molten about it, but it was edible - so that's a plus. My friends who ordered the passion fruit torte were disappointed. Imagine that!

We made it through the meal. We had dilated pupils, easy listening ear bugs, sweaty crevices, simultaneous indigestion & empty stomachs and headaches. But we made it. Then we got the bill. Turns out the reason for our non-existent service was the automatic gratuity. At Palette, groups of FIVE or more are hit with the automatic gratuity.

Insult added to injury, all I could do was laugh. All my friends could do was strip me of my restaurant-choosing privileges. Do you hear that, Palette? Baby was put in the corner because of you!!

Hot.Mess.

The Copernicus Center

5216 W Lawrence Ave
Chicago, IL 60630
(773) 777-8898

Michael Jackson is greater than Chris Brown

GI Joe the cartoon is greater than GI Joe the movie (I can see into the future)

The Real World first season is greater than any Real World after SF

They don't make 'em like they used to.

The old Gateway was re-named, refurbished and transformed into the Copernicus Center and the place is something to behold. It's a beautiful and versatile building that houses concerts, plays and anything else that might need a touch of class.

Admittedly, walking in, I was tempted to run around like a little kid. Y'see, I have always had a thing for well-designed, wide-open spaces. It makes me happy. I don't know why. And there's a lot to make me happy here. The long lobby stands guard to a gorgeous theater space. With ample seating and balcony views, I don't think there's a bad seat in the place. But you might not be able to concentrate on the stage when there's frosty beers (and other drinks) to be consumed (in glasses!!), dramatic chandeliers at which to marvel and woodwork etchings to study. The entire center is a throwback to when people gave a da[rn] about their craft and buildings told stories & prompted conversation. From its giant towers gleaming with Polish pride to its inside of grand staircases, dramatic loges, grandma cabinetry, big stages, comfy carpets and a full, old-timey bar, you'll be transported back to a time when Glen Miller played, songs made the hit parade and [old white guys with bad attitudes] had it made.

Hmm. I guess not everything changes.