Tom wrote:
Hi, I'm new to the Forum. I'll toss in my two, possibly four, cents on long gone Chicago restaurants I've enjoyed:
Good stuff! Here are a few miscellaneous comments. By the way, have you seen the
All The Old Familiar Places (RIP) thread?
Tom wrote:
Miyako Shoku Do. My first experience with Japanese cuisine was in this family-run storefront on Clark, a little north of Belmont. In the late 1960's, this is where I learned to use chopsticks and appreciate sukiyaki, don buri (both oyako & unagi) and other delicious homestyle foods with many cups of green tea. There was always a black-&-white TV on, propped up over the last booth. There were toddlers playing on the floor while Mom & Dad cooked in the kitchen and then brought out the food to us. The cheap metal teapots were from the 1940's or early '50's, with "Made in Occupied Japan" stamped under the handles. There was no sushi--this was decades before the worldwide sushi craze caught on in the 1980's.
Before Miyako opened on Clark north of Belmont in the late 1960s, the owner had another restaurant on Clark south of Division. Those teapots were probably from the old place. For a discussion of the early history of Chicago sushi, see the
Founder of Chicago's First Sushi Restaurant Honored thread.
Tom wrote:
The Bowl & Roll. Sadako Tanino, the wife of The Bakery's Chef Louis Szathmáry, ran a little basement soup place on Wells Street in Old Town. I enjoyed many pleasant lunches of good, hearty, cheap bowls of soup and crusty bread there. The selections varied, though at least one paprikash soup seemed to have been cribbed from her husband, the Hungarian Chef.
Don't forget the Hungarian sausage sandwich.
Tom wrote:
And though it was mentioned earlier, in the late 1960's, the height of fine dining was to sit at the little chef's table in the kitchen at The Bakery on Lincoln Avenue, enjoying Beef Wellington.
Not sure if you've seen the
Remembering Beef Wellington @ The Bakery thread.
Tom wrote:
There was a French bistrot on the South Side in the early 1970's, on west 63rd Street, The French Kitchen. It was recommended by Chicago Magazine, natch, and it was where I first encountered fish baked in a paper bag ("sole en sac"). Unfortunately, the rice that accompanied the fish didn't meet muster with my Chinese-American pal, who turned up his nose and loudly declared it to be "Minute Rice" in his expert opinion.
Briefly mentioned in the
French restaurants in Chicago after WWII thread. I still fondly remember a long-ago poached pear I ate there.
Tom wrote:
There was a restaurant, heavily promoted on WFMT's Midnight Special, on Larrabee Street in Lincoln Park, whose specialties seemed to be lobster and corn on the cob, but I can't for the life of me remember the name. Captain something?
Through the 1960s to the early '70s the Tap Root Pub on Larrabee was known for its Sunday clambakes that included a small lobster. After losing a long battle with urban renewal, the owner opened a new Tap Root almost around the corner on Willow. You'll still occasionally see a car (always the same one?) with a
Save the Tap Root Pub bumper sticker.
Tom wrote:
Don't know if bars are a legit mention here, but one of my favorite long gone watering holes was the Bucket O' Suds, on Belmont just west of Cicero. Joe Danno, the bartender, poured us what he contended was "pre-Prohibition" bourbon, but I think there was a bit of PT Barnum about him. A great place, the likes of which Chicago no longer has.
Just in case you missed them, there are a couple threads devoted to Bucket o' Suds (was actually on Cicero south of Belmont):
Bucket O Suds Remembered and
BOS Distilling. Only two months ago I noticed bottles of (supposedly long gone) Auburn and Alumni for sale in a suburban liquor store.
Tom wrote:
There were "men's bars" at the Berghof and at the top of Carson Pirie Scott, back in the bad old days when women were simply told to stay out. The Carson's spot had quarter beers, if I remember right. The Berghof bar was pretty much as it always was, but had absolutely no seating: you stood at the bar with one foot on the brass rail cowboy style, or you stood at the few scattered high tables while you ate your split bratwurst or corned beef sandwich and drank your mug of Berghof dark. I discovered both these places while still in high school. In a simpler time, no one ever asked for ID if you comported yourself respectfully and didn't cause trouble.
I frequented the Berghoff bar only after it became integrated but I'm told in the "old days" at least one bartender would address any rare female customers as "Sir."
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