Started the week paying homage to a classic restaurant that is about to close its door after 25 years in the fine dining game. Trotters is one of those legendary names in the culinary world that was the first to introduce multi course classic French/American style dining to Chicago...a concept that would later on get raped, used and abused in a good and bad way. As a cook or food aficionado, this is that place that defined "fancy" food in Chicago.
However, this place has been around for 25 years and has stayed classic in every sense of the word as far as the interior goes. I immediately felt like a 70 year old wealthy white woman.
I don't want to sound like a dick but for a place that used to require jackets, you would think central air would be called for.
Some oyster thing. Pretty good. Took 45 minutes to come out. We were almost done with the first bottle of wine before we started the grand menu.
Speaking of wine, the wine encyclopedia was really really impressive boasting over 2000 bottles of wine, some costing as much as a car or someone's yearly salary. I didn't want to look like a hillbilly or anything but $35,000 for a bottle of wine from 1890? That shit better come with a free shirt that says "I bought a 35000 bottle of wine and all I got was this shirt...and now I feel fucking stupid."
This was a piece of fish with squid ink, an avocado mousse and a baby pig dick or something...I would eat a burrito filled with this if I could.
My phone shots suck. I know. This salmon did not suck.
This duck was the shit. Chocolate Nike swoosh symbol with Charlie Trotters spit and porcini mushrooms I believe.
This dish was amazing. The coffee dusted lamb was cooked perfectly (duh) and all of the other elements to this dish was spot on.
Not a big dessert guy but this blueberry scrotum thing was the bomb.
Strawberry shit. Was fucking delicious. By now, we are almost four hours into the dinner and the servers brought two dessert courses at once and just kind of went "oh well" and we kind of rushed in eating which was kind of bullshit but not surprising that they kind of didn't care. I wish I had made it over here in its heyday when chef Trotter was in the kitchen and had the notorious reputation for being a complete cocksucker in the kitchen. I bet the service and food was even more exceptional. The 284 dollar tab didn't justify the meal, but I'm still glad I got to try it before they close their doors in August. And yes, I did eat a whole bag of chips after the dinner.
Time for our department "team build" at the children's museum at Navy Pier. One of the most sarcastic and jaded bunch of asshole, too cool for school know it alls interacting with children.
We did some letter olympic thing where we were given a letter and gave clues to the kids to guess the word that begins with the corresponding letter of our apron. I was B for bastard.
Afterwards, I got to cook at this awesome roof top deck thing with two huge grills that didn't turn on until we threw in burning pieces of cardboard into the grates. #whitepeopleproblems.
Stopped by Nathan's house warming where I popped this bad boy open only after doing like 6 Jameson shots in a row. Not a good idea.
What was a good drunken idea was to beer batter a piece of blueberry pie and deep fry it. It looks like chicken but tastes like sweet virginal vagina. Sweet and shameful.
I have no idea how I woke up to paint this disaster the next morning, but I did dry heave and almost passed out due to the excessive heat. This was one of those days that my nutsack basically stuck to one side of my leg for the whole day.
For followers of this blog, its been a minute since I've posted a pic of this little guy. He's gotten so freaking big that he's basically spilling out of his carriage. My brother feeds him other little babies.
The homie Alfonso hooked these photos up and made me look like I'm a good cook.
Stopped over at Maria's Packaged Goods over in Bridgeport to set up the judges for the Iron Brew going down 8/25. This is the preliminary round with the judges having to taste over 40 home brews to narrow it down to 20. Don't get me wrong, drinking beer is fun and all but when you have to sift through some good, some bad, and some just terrible, it gets a to be a long night of destroying your taste buds and wondering where the hell you are cause you drank so damn much.
The outdoor patio was packed despite the almost 100 degree temperature outside. When its that hot out, there's nothing you can do to look good. Just sweat it out and let your body do its thing.
July 4th came and went and in its awesomeness left me with a really bad cut. This was a doozy. Thank god for my bone to stop the knife from cutting off my tip. That's what she said.
Got to check out El-P after working at the Bottom Lounge courtesy of the homie Sang. Don't get me wrong, El-P murdered it as usual but Killa Mike did his thang as well. All in all, a great night of music and shit beer that was stupid expensive.
Its good to be the boss sometimes. This was my view from the catering gig at P-hood's bday party that I catered.
Thats a whole lotta white.
It was a really good party with all kinds of characters. The other tenants in the building seriously asked if this was a "rap party." Black people partying +dranks+"bitches"+asian dude making food with his white staff = rap party.
Painted at West Fest the next day completely hungover again and all up in the sun. I have no clue how I finished this considering the shape I was in. It was nice to run into a bunch of people I haven't seen in a long time and just kickin it...what wasn't so nice was the dry heaving I was doing by the end of the night. I need to start eating before I drink. Such an easy solution.
It was crowded, but not too crowded. Probably one of my favorite street fests in Chicago. Also one of the easiest to smuggle in your own booze/drugs.
If you're going to lay in the street, do it with some style and class.