Eating like a rockstar

What: Dogs with Rockstar monikers
Venue: Rockstar Dogs (corner of Chicago and Ashland), ~3:30 am.
Bottomline: Accessible late night dogs. Decent to boot. 

Flaming. Vedder. Tommy Lee.

Another Saturday late night, hungry as usual. Chinatown was considered, but coming from The Store, it was too far and frankly a cliché. Fortunately, I remembered that the Vedder Dog made Timeout Chicago's Dish Wish List of 2008, so we zoomed via auto. Parking--a cinch, but perhaps many were home having Valentine's sex. A cash only joint, but no worries because there's an ATM fee patiently waiting inside. 

I ordered a Vedder, Aussie a Flaming Lips, and Ian a Tommy Lee. Vedder was a cheesy, charred take on the Chicago classic. The Flaming was flaming, obviously. And Tommy Lee was an allusion to that infamous phallus. Good eats. The fries had Aussie raving all the way home. Definitely from a frozen package, but delectable nonetheless. 

So was the Vedder worthy of a Best 100 list? Nope, but I realized TOC's credibility was questionable after seeing Pork and Scrambled Eggs at Hon Kee on their list. True litmus: am I compelled to take a detour for a rockstar? Definitely not, but if it's past a weekend midnight, we happen to be in the area, and no one is craving Chinese grease, we'll be there.

(Tip: There is another location in Lincoln Park on Armitage.)

888

What: The best pho on Argyle. 
Venue: Pho 888 (on Argyle, off Broadway); not to be confused with any other digit thrice repeated.
Bottomline: A destination worth the pilgrimage for any zealous pho enthusiast. 

The Macapugay thumb of approval.

We were pleasantly surprised by a wait staff that would actually fill up our water, but even more surprised at the pho served up here. A symphonic broth with all the usual cast, each ingredient at an appropriate volume, and all in harmony with the melodic beef notes sung by bone marrow and braised meat. I'd pay double for this stuff if I had to, but please don't tell them that. 

If you've never had pho, this is a good starting point and a prime example of what pho should be.

BTW, peeve #163: pronouncing pho "foe". It's pronounced "fuck" without the "ck".

See my full review on Yelp:

http://www.yelp.com/biz/pho-888-chicago#hrid:KSUIxMaCw2d7paDS2-yDrg

Phood Porn

Watching Bourdain slide wet pho noodles through his lips was one of the sexiest things I've ever seen, and I say that with the utmost security in my sexuality. 

Hearing him call pho his death row meal has validated my previously sad existence, and I am eternally grateful. Hyperbole, pehaps. But I can't help but feel compelled to baptize my unborn children in a 12 hour broth muddled with beef essence and a potpourri of spices scientifically engineered to elicit oral orgasms. 

Thank you, Mr. Bourdain.

Sausage Fest

Ze double team.

After watching Bourdain house a foie gras and duck sausage on No Reservations, it was time for the Dynamic Duo to check out Hot Doug's on California and Roscoe. I personally made an attempt at the infamous line a couple years ago, but failed miserably so today Aussie and I made a blood pact to wait out the line at whatever cost to life or limb. An hour and a half later came the payoff.

The foie gras and duck sausage wasn't fucking around, although I do prefer a contrast in texture whenever I ingest something that rich.  Even charring the outside of the sausage would have given it something, but who am I to complain? Easily the greatest development in encased meat preparation, since some genius decided to stick these things in buns. 

As for the Gator Dog?  For starters, it smelled like God's sweaty socks.  You know--the ones He's been wearing since, oh say eternity?  I'm to blame knowing full well this Creation was topped with the holiest of Blue Cheese--St. Pete's.  I love the stuff, but this was like showing up to work in a tuxedo.  The sausage alone was worthy of extra salivation, but perhaps the gator was just my rebound when I really longed for more foie gras.  Either way, an A for effort, especially considering failures are still victories with this place, as such risks have eventually paid for themselves in the form of innovative ingestions.

Genuinely sad about the last bite.

I had a bite of Aussie's mountain man sausage (mind out of the gutter....now.  Thanks). Elk and venison among other manly mountain meats, not a hint of gaminess. The superfluous sauce and Comte cheese completed the yin and the yang.     

Nothing needs be said about duck fat fries. They're fries fried in duck fat.  Some might say you can't really tell the difference, but that's bullshit.  Name one food that isn't better tasting deep fried in rendered animal fat.  Game over. 

Hot Doug's: absolutely a place to check out, despite the cries from neighbors posing as annoying passersby that "it's just a hot dog".  I happen to be a big fan of Superdawg, but Hot Doug's is Chicago's premiere encased me at purveyor.