The Chicago Dining World Tour: A Filling Trip to Sarajevo

Restaurant Sarajevo

Bosnian/Serbian

2701 W. Lawrence, Chicago

773.275.5310

Website

What I ate: Bosnian Chorba, Large Pljeskavica

Though my visit to Restaurant Sarajevo came late in year one of my Chicago Dining World Tour--principally a single year acute undertaking, although there has been spillover into a second year for several recaps and a few meals--I found it to be a prime example of what I was looking to discover.

Namely, to locate and enjoy ethnic dining restaurants in Chicago, especially rather unique ones that I was otherwise unlikely to find--or even look for.

I know I have traversed Lawrence Avenue several times over the years, but never noticed Restaurant Sarajevo, which has been there for about 15 years according to its owner and host.

This wouldn't seem so strange except that even after I visited the restaurant--which is at the corner of
Lawrence and Washtenaw--when I happened to riding with a friend along Lawrence, I still didn't spot it.

But yet I somehow got there when I wanted to, on what I'd say I recall as a rather brisk winter's night, but of course here in Chicago, that's essentially been all of them.

I didn't ask the name of the man I presumed to be the owner, but learned that although he hails from Bosnia, the restaurant's cuisine also covers stylings from Serbia, Croatia and the former Yugoslavia.

He was a friendly host, and server, who seemed to take pride in his establishment and was open to answering my various questions.

Such as about the spread that accompanied the basket of delicious homemade bread I was provided. It clearly wasn't traditional butter or cream cheese, and I'm not referring to the olive oil that was also provided.

I may have the spelling wrong but I believe I was told the spread was called "Chimak."

And I remember it being tasty.

As was the Bosnian Chorba = soup. Though I asked the owner and noted it down as beef vegetable, the online menu describes it as Homemade Veal and Vegetable Soup. Of course it's possible that there are two different types of chorba at Sarajevo, but either way what I had was good.

For my entrée I ordered something called Large Pljeskavica = Traditional Bosnian Beef Patty Made from a Mixture of Ground Beef and Lamb Filled with Mozzarella Cheese, Served with Your Choice of Side Order.

I got it with potatoes that were rather good, but only a few bites into the aptly named Large Pljeskavica, I was quite full.

There was nothing about it I didn't like, given the mozzarella enveloped within the long strip of beef and lamb, but with even more cheese on top it was one of the heaviest things I remember eating. And I tend to think I'm a pretty hearty eater.

So although the leftovers made for another rather substantial meal, and confirmed that the taste itself was quite savory, I can't say that Pljeskavica is something I would readily order again. (No, there wasn't a "Small" version listed.)

Which isn't to suggest that I wouldn't visit Restaurant Sarajevo again--nor that you shouldn't--on a day that I arrive rather ravenous.

Of course, that's assuming that I can--once again--find it.

The Chicago Dining World Tour: On Tapas the World in Evanston

Tapas Barcelona

Spanish/Catalan

1615 Chicago Ave., Evanston

847.866.9900

Website

What I ate: Mero con Espinacas al Limon, Cangrejo Con Ali-Oli, Platano con Caramelo y Helado

Before enjoying a meal at Evanston's Tapas Barcelona in late December as part of my Chicago Dining World Tour, the only other two times I have been there were on July 11, 2010 and
July 1, 2012.

The reason I know these dates--or more accurately, could easily look them up--is because they were the days Spain won the 2010 World Cup and then Euro 2012.

Not that we're such huge soccer fans, but it's plain that my mom, sister Allison and I have been prompted to visit the 'muy bueno' Spanish restaurant housed in the space that long-ago held Fritz, That's It--an early Lettuce Entertain You joint and family favorite--mainly by the futbol reign of Spain.

So it seems possible we will next return there on July 13 of this year, if Spain happens to successfully defend its World Cup title.

But although tapas are the quintessential food made for sharing, without any victories to celebrate I went myself and still found it quite enjoyable.

This isn't such a surprise as about 20 years ago I was introduced to an excellent restaurant in Naperville called Meson Sabika, which served tapas and I believe was somehow connected to Chef Emilio Gervilla, whose Emilio's Tapas in Hillside I've also visited.

And before I traveled to Spain itself in 2005--and ate tapas there--I organized a small outing to Tapas Gitana in Northfield, which I think also descended from Emilio. 

Though Emilio used to have a few more restaurants under his name or direct control, it seems that all three of the places I just mentioned still exist as of this writing.

I've also heard excellent things about Café Iberico and Mercat a La Planxa in Chicago, but I've always liked Tapas Barcelona and it was much more convenient in trying to fit numerous ethnic eateries into the tail end of 2013.

I went there on an evening when I wasn't all that hungry, but that made two tapas (i.e. small plates) just about perfect.

And though I have always enjoyed sharing with mom, Allison and others with who I've frequented tapas bars--be careful saying that around women, men; they'll think you're creepy--it was nice having the tapas I wanted all to myself.

As is customary; I was first given a basket of delicious bread which I dipped in olive oil. I also ordered myself a glass of sangria.

Both were terrific.

Both of the tapas I ordered were hot selections, i.e. Tapas Calientes, as opposed to Tapas Frias, which include items such as garlic potato salad (Patatas Alioli) and marinated olives (Aceitunas Aliñadas).

My first plate came off the nightly specials menu:

Cangrejo Con Ali-Oli = Puff pastry filled with crab meat, topped with ali-oli.

Because of the puff pastries, this reminded be a good bit of the plate of escargot I had gotten at Jilly's Cafe, also in Evanston. But whereas those had puffs each sitting atop a snail swimming in butter, here the crab meat was part of each puff sandwich.

They were delicious.

I also enjoyed my other tapas selection, which came from the Tapas Calientes section of the regular menu: 

Mero con Espinacas al Limon = Sauteed Tilapia with garlic spinach, mashed Parmesan potatoes, lemon butter.

I most often eat tilapia blackened and/or with Cajun seasoning, so the flavoring was blander--and thus less exciting--but there was nothing bad about it and the accompanying Parmesan-enriched mashed potatoes were very good.

In the name of cultural culinary research, I was compelled to order dessert.

And while I was intrigued by Crema Catalana =  Catalan style crème brùlèe, I've had--and loved--crème brùlèe enough other places that I deferred to something a bit more unique:

Platano con Caramelo y Helado = Sauteed banana covered in caramel, pistachios, vanilla ice cream.

Maravilloso!

Now, especially having been to Barcelona, I know most residents there speak Catalan, not Spanish, and that there are some variances in the two cuisines.

I would imagine that given its name, Tapas Barcelona touches on both cultures and styles of cooking, but I cannot say for certain.

All I really know is that even without arriving aboard an international soccer bandwagon, the meal I had was definitely a winner.

The Chicago Dining World Tour: When in Little Bucharest, Do as the Romanians Do

Little Bucharest

Romanian

3661 Elston, Chicago

Phone

Website

What I ate: Ciorba de Perisaure (meatball & vegetable soup), Charbroiled Sausages, Braised Short Rib Goulash, Chocolate Ganache, Apple Streudel

Little Bucharest Bistro is a prime example of a restaurant I likely never would have noticed, cared about, remembered or patronized if not for overtly seeking ethnic eateries to explore on my Chicago Dining World Tour.

Although i have traversed Elston Avenue numerous times, it was only in early 2013 that while riding with my friend Ken--who accompanied me on several "Sethnic dining" expeditions, including this one--that I noted Little Bucharest, just a tad north of Addison.

I kept it in mind over several months, though for awhile couldn't recall if it was Little Bucharest or Little Budapest.

Ironically, I had to go to Budapest itself last year to eat at a Hungarian restaurant, but went with Ken to the Romanian one in Chicago in mid-December.

Also ironically, when I mentioned my intention to try Little Bucharest to a friend at work, he said that he had just seen an offer for the restaurant from Amazon Local Deals.

So I purchased an offer of $30 worth of food for $15.

But this turned out to be fool's gold in a way.

First of all, as I noticed after buying it, the voucher wasn't valid on Saturday nights, which was when Ken and I preferred to go (we wound up going on a Sunday).

And we were told at the restaurant that, for no clear reason, the voucher couldn't be used in conjunction with the $28 3-course dinner featured on the menu. This essentially meant we wound up spending the $15 we had saved on dessert that otherwise would have been included.

So while the offer for Little Bucharest Bistro seems to be still offered by Amazon, I would be wary of its true value. 

The restaurant was a lot larger than one might have suspected, and rather attractively appointed. We were initially the only ones in the main dining room, but a little later live music was played and more patrons arrived. I enjoyed the European feel.

We were assisted by a waitress who seemed rather aloof, almost cold. So this was far from the best of my "Sethnic dining" excursions in terms of getting wonderful service and helpful suggestions.

But the food was good and the experience nonetheless enjoyable.

We both started with soup. Ken got "Ciorba de Borscht" Beet Soup, made of red beets with cabbage and a dollop of sour cream.

He declared it to be "delicious; very strong and beety."

I ordered Ciorba de Perisaure = meatball and vegetable soup. This was a rather large bowl and although the photo doesn't do it justice, there were lots of meatballs within the broth. I liked it.

For an appetizer, Ken and I shared an order of "Mititei" Charbroiled Sausages = beef and pork, garlic, served with greens and crispy polenta.

This was rather tasty, not only the sausages but the spinach and polenta as well. 

Though on most shared Chicago Dining World Tour stops, Ken and I have intently ordered different entrees so as to let me try a couple to write about, at Little Bucharest our eyes and taste buds were both drawn to the same thing:

"Bucharest Signature" Braised Short Rib Goulash, in which pieces of de-boned beef were mixed with tomato stew, green beans, pearl onions and homemade gnocchi.

We both really liked it, though I would have about half of it at home on a subsequent evening. 

Ken ordered a cup of "traditional Romanian coffee," which, we were told, was Turkish. Certainly not unfathomable, as both Romania and Turkey abut the Red Sea, but a bit noteworthy.

Ken said the coffee was good.

As were our desserts, which we shared.

I wouldn't say the Apple Streudel was as good as that I had in Vienna, or even at the German Laschet's Inn in Chicago, but there was certainly nothing not to like about it.

But considerably more delish, IMHO, was "Tort de Ciocolata" Chocolate Ganache Torte = Cupcake filled with chocolate gelato and raspberry sauce.

Especially as I love raspberry flavoring, this was as good as it sounds.

And a rather delectable to conclude a perfectly pleasant meal--we enjoyed the musical trio, who played presumably Romanian songs, as well as a nice version of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah"--even if everything about it wasn't quite perfect.

The Chicago Dining World Tour: Aloha Eats Provides Hawaiian Treats

Aloha Eats

Hawaiian

2534 N. Clark, Chicago

773.935.6828

Website

What I ate: Pork Katsu w/Katsu sauce, macaroni salad, white rice

Throughout 2013, as I ventured to local eateries of varying ethnic and cultural cuisines as part of my Chicago Dining World Tour, I planned on visiting a Hawaiian restaurant.

And I thought it would provide a nice excuse to get to Roy's, an upscale Hawaiian fusion restaurant whose North State Street outpost was one of several nationwide locations (including several in Hawaii).

I've never eaten at Roy's, and having heard nothing but good things, have wanted to try it for awhile.

But when I mentioned my desire to eat Hawaiian food to my friend Dave, who has accompanied on many of my "Sethnic dining" excursions, he reminded me that I had eaten with him--a couple years back--at a Hawaiian restaurant in his neighborhood called Aloha Eats.

And when an opportune night came around, spending $12 to once again eat at Aloha Eats vs. a likely $60 at Roy's not only appealed to my budget, but seemed to portend a possibly more authentic glimpse into Hawaiian dining.

So Dave and I went to Aloha Eats, at 2534 N. Clark, for a bit of Hawaiian food on a rather chilly Chicago night.

Although more standard soft drinks are available, the restaurant--run by a Hawaiian native--imports Aloha Maid canned juices from the islands. (Another patron inquired and was told the drinks weren't otherwise available in Chicago.)

I ordered Pineapple Orange--two of my favorite flavors--and enjoyed it very much.

It's been a few weeks since our dinner, so I forget what Dave had to drink, but I know his meal was a Mini Plate of Hawaiian BBQ Chicken = boneless and skinless chicken marinated in our home-made teriyaki BBQ sauce then grilled on a flattop grill.

As a mini plate, his chicken came with 1 scoop of rice and 1 scoop of macaroni salad (vs. the standard 2), and a smaller portion of chicken.

But it was still fairly sizable and as something that Dave has commonly enjoyed, he did again. 

I selected my dinner entree from the menu section titled Plate Lunch, whose selections are served all day & night and come with 2 scoops of rice and 1 scoop of macaroni salad (substitute either side or all sides for fries).

What I got--as I had on my prior visit to Aloha Eats--was: Pork Katsu = Boneless slices of pork breaded with premium Japanese bread crumbs, fried, and chopped into smaller pieces. Served with our home-made sweet and tangy Katsu Sauce (or Brown Gravy instead on request).

I got the Katsu sauce, which is delicious, as were the strips of fried pork.

Perhaps not the healthiest choice, but much tastier and more enjoyable than a different type of fried pork I recently had at a Haitian restaurant.

The macaroni salad and rice were also good.

Having never been to Hawaii, I don't know what types of meals are commonplace there, but have to assume Katsu is, as Aloha Eats also offers Chicken and Tofu versions.

And I was somewhat surprised to learn how popular SPAM is in Hawaii, as numerous SPAM selections can be had at Aloha Eats, including SPAM Musabi (Hawaiian hand-rolls: a thick block of warm rice lightly seasoned with our teriyaki sauce, topped with a hot topping, and wrapped in a belt of nori (dried Japanese seaweed) and SPAM Saimin (a noodle soup).

I asked the (non-Hawaiian) girl working the counter about this and was told that Hawaiians eat the highest amount of SPAM per capita, with most having grown up on it. There are, I was told, SPAM banks in Hawaii, in case other foods wind up in short supply.

Well, in addition to having never been to Hawaii, I've never in my life eaten SPAM.

While I hope to one day remedy the former, I don't feel any great need to resolve the latter. Even though a patron sitting next to us insisted that a SPAM dish was terrific (his wife also remained skeptical).

And though I still want to get to Roy's, Aloha Eats provided, yet again, a tasty entrée into perhaps more pedestrian, but nonetheless terrific, Hawaiian cuisine.

The Chicago Dining World Tour: A Nearby Location for Haitian Placation

Kizin Creole

(formerly Chez Violette)

Haitian

2311 W. Howard, Chicago

773.961.7275
Yelp page

What I ate: Pate (appetizer), Fried Plantains, Griyo, Pineapple Cake

Although it is rather unique and was ultimately satisfying—if not quite sensational—Kizin Creole isn't a place I'd suggest going on a first date.

Or even with anyone particularly particular.

Located in a low-lit storefront on the south side of a rather nondescript section of Howard St. between Ridge and Western, it isn't easy to find. I drove past it, back and forth, as least four times, despite knowing the address.

Of course, it didn't help that the sign—which still says Chez Violette, the restaurant's former name—also was unlit.

As far as I could tell, there is no parking lot nor street parking on any stretch of Howard near the restaurant. I parked on a side street across Howard, and waited about 5 minutes until it was safe to cross.

The restaurant is surprisingly large and has several nice pieces of (presumably Haitian) art, but maintains a bit of a scattershot, unfinished feeling.

Though there were only two other tables in use when I arrived, it took a good while to be greeted and service throughout my meal was rather slow.

And while I enjoyed the recorded Haitian music that accompanied my meal, even if one's companion didn't mind the musical stylings, it's possible they might not relish the volume at which it was played. 

So it was probably for the best that I visited Kizin Creole alone on a Friday night, with no time constraints and an understanding that some small-operation-ethnic-restaurants may not always dazzle with their “production values.”

I was served by a friendly waiter who helped guide me to two appetizers. One was Pate, not to be confused with pâté.

This was a "savory and flaky Haitian patty flavored with a blend of Caribbean spices. Choice of Proteins available in Chicken. Beef, Vegetables."

I chose beef. Although the shell wasn't really like that of an empanada--part of many Caribbean and Central/South American cuisines--the concept was similar. And it tasted very good.

So did the Fried Plantains, or as it said on the menu and my receipt, Bannann Peze.

These came in a choice of salty or sweet, and though I don't recall having specifically selecting salty, that's what I got.


I pretty much love plantains of any ilk, be they fried, sweet, salty, etc., and I sufficiently enjoyed what I got, but felt the plantains--which were more solid than soft--could have used some kind of dipping sauce.

The waiter indicated that there was no standard sauce or dip they had to accompany the plantains, but offered and brought some pork gravy I would use with my entree.

Other than providing something a bit wet to soften up the plantains, this wasn't much of a solution.

I was also a bit perplexed by the--as warned by the waiter--extremely spicy Haitian cole slaw that came with the plantains. Now normally, if you asked me how spicy I like things on a scale of 1-to-10, I would say about 4. I like some flavor but not disintegrating my taste buds.

Well, this cole slaw went to 11. And I just had a tiny taste. 

If Haitians or other patrons of Kizin Creole enjoy it, more power to them, but it didn't do me much good.

Shame, too, because I usually enjoy cole slaw and theoretically would have wanted to try a Haitian rendition.

Even more inedible--for me--cole slaw came with my main course, which was Griyo = Fried Pork seasoned and marinated cubed pork shoulder fried to perfection. Served with choice of side, Haitian slaw and a small salad. 

I got the Griyo with rice & beans, which not being too overpopulated by kidney beans (which I don't really enjoy), were rather tasty.

The pork wasn't bad, but a bit bland. The cubes weren't deep fried like Chinese sweet & sour pork, but without much apparent batter were somehow fried to the point of being hard on the outside and relatively soft on the inside.

Employing the gravy, the pork was edible, but not really incredible. The rice & beans made my entree worthwhile--and some leftover pork made for a decent second meal--but the griyo is probably not something I would order again.

For a beverage, I chose something that was listed on the menu as Fruit Juice, and on my receipt as Ji Grenadya with Milk (it can also be made with water).

I ordered the Passion Fruit variety and the result was rather similar to the Jugos en Leche I had had at La Parrilla, a Colombian steakhouse. As I said then, the result was something between a milkshake and smoothie, and rather delectable.

I was probably full enough not to need dessert but was intriqued by Gato Ayisyen = Pineapple Cake. This wasn't on the menu but cited to me by a waitress who seemingly had taken over for the waiter (or was at least assisting him).

Pineapple is one of my very favorite of all flavors and the cake was surprisingly moist for a rather solid looking hunk.

I didn't finish it all, but it went well with the leftovers I would consume on a subsequent night.

All in all, Kizin Creole fit in well with the (unwritten) manifesto of my Chicago Dining World Tour, which involves discovering and trying local restaurants representing different cultures, the more unique or exotic the better.

It was explained to me that Kizin Creole is under new management from the former Chez Violette, so while they seemingly have some wrinkles to iron out, I hope they do. This is the type of mom & pop-seeming establishment I enjoy supporting, so I look forward to a return visit--with some alternate menu choices--somewhere down the line.

Even if again, all by myself. 

The Chicago Dining World Tour: A Kyrgyz 'How Do You Do' at Jibek Jolu

Jibek Jolu

Kyrgyz

5047 N. Lincoln, Chicago

773.878.8494

Website

What I ate: Cheburek, Pirojki, Kesme soup, Beshbarmak, Pelmeni

In order to fortify my Chicago Dining World Tour, throughout this year I have regularly been looking for--and looking up--ethnic restaurants that I might want to explore.

But on a recent Saturday night, my friend Ken and I went to a place I only discovered during that week. By stumbling across the website ChicagoCabFare.com, I found several intriguing places with which I was unfamiliar, including those representing cultural cuisines I had yet to sample. 

The website provides ethnic dining suggestions from Chicago cabbies, and among the website's bounty was Jibek Jolu, which seems to be the only Kyrgyz restaurant in Chicago. For the geographically-challenged, like me, Kyrgyzstan is a small country in Central Asia, essentially under Kazakhstan (I know, that likely doesn't help much).

Ken also had never heard of Jibek Jolu, and surmised from the address that its Lincoln Square location might make nearby parking a challenge, but we were able to find a space on the street right in front of the restaurant.

At which point Ken mentioned that he and his friend Ed, who had accompanied us on a Bulgarian dining expedition, had often driven by Jibek Jolu and noted that they should try it sometime.

We entered to find a bright, attractively appointed place with about 10 tables, initially mostly empty but largely filled in by the time we left.

Our waitress was friendly but seemingly not fluent enough in English to field some of our questions or provide acute descriptions of some of the menu items.

Still, from the nicely informative menu, several of the appetizers sounded appealing, and we selected two to share. 

One was a single Cheburek, described as fried pie filled with lamb. The shell was rather tasty but the word "filled" turned out to be a vast overstatement, as in splitting the cheburek in two, we discovered just a paltry piece of lamb and a whole lot of air.

The other appetizer, Pirojki, had a name that sounded enough like a pierogi for me to surmise it might be similar, but given the description (deep fried Russian pie, filled with mashed potatoes and scallion), it wasn't too shocking to discover that it wasn't really akin.

While there was nothing really wrong with the pirojki (3 came in one order), they weren't nearly as deep fried as the cheburek--or an Indian samosa--making for what was essentially mashed potatoes in a soft shell.

We were given some terrifically fresh bread and Ken ordered mint tea, noting how fresh its mint flavor was. I stuck with Diet Coke.

We both ordered soup. Ken chose Shorpo = Big pieces of veal with red potatoes, garlic and scallion.

He declared the broth to be very good but seemed envious of my choice:  Kesme = Noodle soup with freshly cut beef, potatoes, peppers, carrots, tomatoes and garlic, which was rather tasty.

I let him try some.

We ordered two entrees with the intention of sharing them. 

Our first choice was described on the menu as: A popular dish in Kyrgyzstan, the boiled Lamb is diced with knives and mixed with special stew and boiled noodles.

This was called Beshbarmak. We consumed it all and had no complaints, but the flavoring--particularly of the lamb--wasn't nearly as pronounced as I prefer.

Our other entree was similarly good but not great, mainly because the taste was more muted than zesty.

Available on a dish or in a soup--we chose soupless--Pelmeni = Homemade triangular dumplings stuffed with ground beef and onions served with sour cream.

Reminding me of Italian gnocchi, Polish pierogi and Chinese won ton, the dumplings were quite fresh and the whole dish was relatively nice & light.

As with anywhere visited on my "Sethnic expedition," our experience could likely have been considerably different simply by making different menu choices.

It seems possible this was the case at Jibek Jolu, where everything from the bread to the menu design was pleasant and pleasurable, but nothing that we ate really blew us away.

So Ken and I skipped any of the listed desserts (baklava, honey cake, tiramisu) and opted instead to engorge ourselves on a pair of crème brûlées--one regular, one chocolate--at Bonefish Grill in Skokie.

No offense to Jibek Jolu, where I would happily return sometime down the (Silk) road, but these were by far the most delicious calories we consumed all night.

The Chicago Dining World Tour: Hearty Grub at a Local Irish Pub

The Curragh

Irish
8266 Lincoln Ave., Skokie
847.675.9600
Website

What I ate: Bangers & Mash, Guinness Cheese Soup, Harp beer

It's been 13 years since my one and only trip to Ireland and I still recall it quite fondly.

Other than having Shepherd's Pie at a pub in Carlow called Teach Dolmain--I only know the name because I have pictures--I don't specifically recall what I ate...or where.

But I know I visited several pubs, including on a Literary Pub Crawl in Dublin. Although I never acclimated--nor have since--to the taste of Guinness (despite loving the brand & marketing), I enjoyed the ambiance of genuine Irish pubs.

Given Chicago's huge Irish population, I imagine there are a good number of fairly traditional pubs dotting the landscape, but I've never really looked for any. I've been to Fado, which is a big one downtown and part of a national chain.

I had noticed another, the Moher Public House, in the Edgebrook neighborhood, and thought I might try it as the Irish entry on my Chicago Dining World Tour. But the other night, the Curragh in Skokie proved a rather opportune place to meet my friend Ken.

He had already eaten, but I was looking for a full dinner, so I was glad to note that the Curragh--to which I hadn't yet been, despite it being in Skokie for a number of years--had a rather robust menu including Irish favorites and several types of burgers.

It seemed like a perfect night to eat outside on the patio, but though it looked like there was room despite several occupied tables, we were told a large party was on its way and we couldn't be accommodated al fresco.

So we stayed inside, which even with an Irish flag and several Guinness signs seemed to have a somewhat Americanized Irish feel. I can't really explain exactly what I mean, but let's just say I didn't feel like I was back in Dublin or Carlow or Kilkenny.

But it was pleasant enough, and while not feeling exploratory enough to again try a Guinness--or even a black 'n tan--I did order myself a pint of Harp, while Ken got a Kaliber.

Fortunately, the stout taste of Guinness did not overly pervade my Guinness Cheese Soup, which the menu describes as Irish sausage, roasted peppers and caramelized onions in Wisconsin cheddar, spiked with Guinness.

It was rather good, as was, reportedly, the Beef Vegetable Soup that Ken ordered as his only food item.

While a burger likely held greater appeal, I felt obliged to try more traditional Irish fare, and as I recalled having Shepherd's Pie once, 13 years ago, I opted here for Bangers & Mash (Irish sausages with mashed potatoes and beef gravy).

I'm glad I ordered Bangers & Mash, once, but doubt I ever will again, as I assume the Curragh's version was a pretty solid representation of a dish that filled me much more than it thrilled me.

I've never been big on getting gravy atop my mashed potatoes, and the sausages were akin to breakfast sausage links, but a touch softer. I ate it all, but can't say I loved it.

No offense to an otherwise wonderful culture, but I'd have to say that for the most part--albeit with limited exposure--Irish cuisine has never quite left me in clover.

The Curragh had some desserts, including a couple that sounded interesting--Homemade Rum & Raisin
Bread Pudding and Profiteroles (choux pastry stuffed with whipped cream and served with chocolate sauce). I've had the latter elsewhere, and especially as its origins are French not Irish, Ken and I resisted the indulgence, opting instead to satisfy our sweet teeth with frozen yogurt at Red Mango.

It was certainly nice to be reminded of Ireland, and I definitely wouldn't mind returning to the Curragh, but when I do, I think I'll order a Cajun Bacon Burger.

Even if it doesn't sound all that authentically Irish.

The Chicago Dining World Tour: Muy Bueno Mexican Food, If Not a Wholly Satisfying Visit to an Old Favorite

Wholly Frijoles
Mexican
3908 W. Touhy, Lincolnwood
847.329.9810
WhollyFrijolesGrill.com
BYOB 

What I ate: Chile Relleno, Enchilada with mole Oaxaqueño, Chips & Salsa, Platanos y Mangos flameados

Mexican food is a cuisine I eat fairly frequently and there is no shortage of places to enjoy it in and around Chicago.

From Rick Bayless' snazzy Frontera Grill and Topolobampo to street corner taquerias that dot the local landscape, one can find tacos, burritos, fajitas and my favorite, chimichangas, at various levels of price and quality, with most being quite adequate in my book.

In just the last few weeks I've enjoyed savory meals at El Tipico in Skokie and Fiesta Mexicano in Uptown, as well as a cute little taco place in Northfield called Taco Nano.

I also solicited opinions on Facebook about some of my friends' favorite Mexican restaurants across Chicagoland. Among those cited were Chicago establishments The Little Mexican Cafe, El Barco, Zapatista, De Cero, El Tapatio and Pancho Pistolas, and Mago in Arlington Heights.

I trust all of these are well worth trying and I hope to do so one day.

But the restaurant I wanted to visit and spotlight for my Chicago Dining World Tour was one I had enjoyed several times, but not recently enough to immediately recall (it's likely been a couple years).

Wholly Frijoles is a single-location, family-owned establishment that occupies a double storefront on Touhy Ave. in Lincolnwood, just west of Crawford (Pulaski).

I've always found that their menu choices, food presentation and quality go well beyond standard-issue Mexican and merits Wholly Frijoles' local popularity, as both the parking lot and restaurant seem to be full anytime I visit.

Still, my friend and fellow Skokie resident, Bob, who accompanied me there last week, had never heard of the restaurant, and he's a big fan of Mexican eateries (including Taqueria el Ranchito near Clark & Wilson in Chicago).

Though we both had to find parking in the neighborhood near the restaurant (note that some of the nearby streets have parking restrictions), we were able to be seated upon arrival by a cute hostess.

Chips and salsa were brought to the table, with the chips being really good and the salsa fine but not particularly zesty.

Wholly Frijoles is BYOB--though does accept credit cards unlike some recent excursions on my dining tour--so without any margaritas to tempt us, Bob and I both opted for Diet Cokes.

We also forwent any appetizers, but our entrees both came with soup (Tortilla) or salad, and we each opted for the latter.

This was a chopped salad with a cream of cilantro dressing, and it was very tasty.

Between its regular menu and daily specials, Wholly Frijoles seems to have at least a few selections that go beyond the tried-and-true, but both Bob and I were content to explore their takes on commonplace items.

I got a combination plate with a Chile Relleno and an Enchilada with my choice of filling (Steak) and sauce (Mole Oaxaqueño). It came with a side of rice; I usually opt for no beans, but they weren't an option here.

Bob went with a Chicken Enchilada, also with the Mole Oaxaqueño sauce.

I am not being overly diplomatic nor deferential to say that we both enjoyed our meals, with Bob offering that he would gladly return.

And as you can see, the presentation at Wholly Frijoles is kind of spiffy. 

So I happily recommend it to anyone seeking out a local Mexican joint that's a cut above the norm.

But I think it only fair to note that while more than credible and edible, the Chile Relleno did not impress me quite as much as one I'd recently had at El Tipico (on Dempster near McCormick in Skokie).

More troubling were the noise level in the restaurant and the sluggish speed of service.

As I noted above, Wholly Frijoles does a high-volume business in a fairly intimate space, and that's great. But the volume of the patron conversations was ear-splitting to the point that Bob and I practically had to yell to speak with each other across the same table.

And while we weren't in a major hurry, Bob did have plans to get to a show at The Old Town School of Folk Music, and the time between our salads and entrees seemed excessively long.

I don't mean to be too disparaging about a place that I've long liked, but feel these issues were significant enough to point out.

Not reason enough to avoid an otherwise wholly satisfying meal at Wholly Frijoles, but you may wish to bring ear plugs and only go when time is not of the essence.

Fortunately, our main courses were cleared with enough time for me to forage into the dessert menu, opting for Platanos y Mangos flameados, which translates to Bananas & Mangos sautéed and flamed served with vanilla ice cream.

I can't recall ever having mangos with ice cream and I certainly didn't let any of the sweet concoction go to waste. (Bob abstained from ordering dessert and declined to try mine.) But a bit like the entire meal this night at Wholly Frijoles, the dessert wasn't quite as thrilling as I'd expected.

Nonetheless I'll happily return and was pleased to note that not only did Bob like his meal, but other patrons openly expressed how much they enjoyed theirs.

But with a number of other appealing Mexican dining options cited by friends, I look forward to trying somewhere new before likely saying 'hola' to Wholly Frijoles once again.