Well, if that isn't a perfect segue to a Bari post, I don't know what is.
Much as I respect Paulina, let's face it, if Germans knew how to make Italian sausage, the history of the 20th century would have been very different. Bari Foods is to Italian foodstuffs what Paulina is to German-American, an old school, no-nonsense place with nothing yuppie about it, but high standards and discriminating taste in the products they offer. They make their own Barese sausage, I don't know if it has fennel seed in it or otherwise compares to your ideal, but tonight I'll make what I bought there yesterday and report back.
Besides the homemade products, the great glory of a trip to Bari is getting a Bari sub. High quality meats on a D'Amato roll which probably came from the oven next door within the previous hour or two (mine was still warm yesterday), seasoned with oil and herbs. Most people get giardinera on them, and Bari's homemade giardinera (hot, medium or mild) is said to be excellent, but I'm not a big fan of peppers on sandwiches and, more to the point, I like the slightly dry, meat and cheese elementalness of a sub without them. (It goes without saying that you don't want mayo, mustard, or any of that stuff on it, though GWiv suggests the artichoke hearts.) Getting one is sometimes a bit of an ordeal, as the family never seems to have heard of those little red devices that spit out numbers and you have to stand in the back, memorize exactly who was there before you, and be ready to jump at your turn without inadvertently offending some 290-lb. Streets and San worker by cutting in front of him, but it's all worth it: I only got as far as my car, parked a little ways up May street, before I decided I couldn't wait and ripped my white paper package open to start devouring it in the car, savoring the surprising lightness, delicacy and freshness of one of the best sandwiches on earth. Every other sub seems like a mere gut bomb by comparison.
As noted, Bari is next door to the D'Amato's which has a grandfathered-in coal-fired oven, and thus makes one of, if not THE, best breads in Chicago, a simple white loaf with a hard, slightly burnt-tasting crust, cracked like the glaze on an undiscovered Fra Lippo Lippi in a monastery in Umbria. Bari and D'Amato's, two essential stops on Chicago's Italian dining scene.
Bari Foods
1120 W. Grand Ave.
312-666-0730
D'Amato's #1 Italian and French Bakery Co.
1124 W. Grand Ave.
312-733-5456