Chicago: Ruxbin

Remember your first post-college apartment? It probably wasn't very big, or in the best part of town. You most likely decorated it with a combination of IKEA and repurposed junk you salvaged from your parents' basement or the street. To anyone else, it might not have looked like much, but its significance derived from the fact that it was a space to call your own, free from the influence or control of others, a place where you could do as you wished. Ruxbin is much like that apartment. Located in the up-and-coming Noble Square neighborhood of West Town in Chicago, Ruxbin appears to be Chef Edward Kim's first independent venture into the Chicago restaurant scene, an establishment where he calls the shots in the kitchen, and exerts creative authority over his locally-sourced and continually changing menu.

It is a true labor of love, evidenced by the quirky but charming details that give the restaurant its trendy-industrial atmosphere and scrappiness. A queue of sexy, chunky spotlights are, upon closer inspection, fashioned out of deconstructed church pews. The slats on the backs of the banquettes are actually seatbelts taken from abandoned cars in a junkyard. Scattered, yellowed book pages had been screened onto the ceiling, their antique-y softness a perfect backdrop for the HazMat-orange ceiling beams.

In lieu of bread, Ruxbin serves popcorn sprinkled with nori.

Calamari bokkum: korean chilies, peanuts, baby potatoes and sesame

Chicken and waffles: roasted breast, dark meat "carnitas", cumin cheddar waffles and apple walnut compote

Ruxbin's dishes too, like the proverbial phoenix, seem to have risen from the ashes of their much humbler roots. An appetizer of calamari bokkum, a nod to Mr. Kim’s Korean heritage, is a marriage of the flavors of various banchan, the traditional small plates that accompany most Korean meals. Smoky peanut and sesame oil, sweet gamja jorim (Korean spicy potato), fiery chilies and vinegary marinated cucumbers mingle in a way that seems both familiar and new. The waffles in an entrée of chicken and waffles are injected with cumin and cheddar, while the chicken is treated to meticulous seasoning and roasting, rather than frying. The traditional maple syrup is replaced with the subtle sweetness of an apple-walnut compote. Tying it all together is a milky cinnamon-scented citrus vinaigrette.

Pan seared trout, bulgur wheat tabbouleh, asparagus, dates, basil

Crispy eggplant, roasted beets, cucumber, honey-cardamom yogurt

When Mr. Kim isn’t concentrating his energies on gussying up old favorites, his talents are directed at producing simple dishes with flavors that pop. A pan seared trout entrée boasts a perfectly crisp and seasoned skin, and is accompanied by a nutty bulgur wheat tabbouleh with a prominent onion flavor. The crunchy fennel and red onion salad (a side to the chicken and waffles) is superb. The only hiccup of the evening was a salad of crispy eggplant, beets, cucumber and yogurt – the eggplant wasn’t so much crispy as it was slightly chewy, and the dish seemed confused, as if the ingredients didn’t quite know what purpose they were supposed to serve.

Then again, one can hardly expect perfection the first time around, and Mr. Kim doesn’t miss the mark by much. At the end of the day, Ruxbin delivers what it promises – sincere, nuanced fare with integrity and not too much pretense. It isn't overly ambitious, but the kitchen's guileless forays into the unexpected make it clear that the evolution of this neighborhood spot is just beginning.

Ruxbin

851 North Ashland Ave.

Chicago, IL 60622

Phone: (312) 624-8509

Best dishes: Chicken and waffles, pan seared trout, calamari bokkum

Hours: Tuesday-Sunday, 5:30 PM to 10:00 PM

Things to know: No reservations taken; BYOB

Chicago: Hot Doug's

I've waited in many a long line for sustenance in my lifetime. Forty-five minutes at Clinton St. Baking. An hour-and-a-half at Northern Spy. Two hours at Shopsin's. I'm no stranger to the gut-wrenching hunger, the continually dashed hopes each time the hostess calls out a name that isn't yours, the resentful looks from your dining companions who are undoubtedly questioning why they ever decided to befriend you.

Then I went to Hot Doug's. No companions, no hostesses, no overwhelming hunger. The thirty minute wait in the ever present line out the door of this self-proclaimed "sausage superstore" should have been a breeze. What I had not counted on was the mind-numbing, balls-to-the-wall Chicago chill. In November. Five minutes into the wait, I suddenly yearned for a buddy to clutch onto for warmth, or a scantily clad hostess I could direct my misery-fueled sadism at. You dare withhold hot dogs from me? At least I'm allowed to wear a coat, skank!

But alas, there was no hostess behind the modest brick facade - only Doug and his bevy of cheerfully efficient cooks and servers. Doug Sohn is a man obsessed with the wiener. If this isn't obvious from the collection of cute sausage paraphernalia lovingly arranged in the glass counter or the various wiener witticisms jotted on the walls ("There are no finer words in the English language than 'encased meats', my friend."), it is clear from the quality and craftsmanship of the brats, wursts and other tubed meats that Doug features on both his permanent and daily menus. There is no question that you can get a great Chicago dog here, but the real draw at Hot Doug's is the variety of specialty sausages that are available on any given day - taut, snappy casings stuffed with everything from the standard pork or chicken to the more exotic kangaroo, alligator or bison. And then there are the toppings, which are often equally as inventive and unexpected: blackberry mustard, double cream Brie, coconut flakes, plantains.

Specials Menu

Foie Gras and Sauternes Duck Sausage with Truffle Aioli, Foie Gras Mousse and Fleur de Sel

I began my meal with one of Hot Doug's most acclaimed offerings (and a permanent fixture on the specials menu): the foie gras and duck sausage dog. Often times, a lowbrow dish that attempts a high-end reincarnation by way of a barrage of lavish ingredients ends up being underwhelming and gimmicky, or sickeningly overwhelming. Not at Doug's. The luxurious duck flavor of the sausage, the delicate richness of the foie gras mousse and the tempered tang of the truffle aioli operate in perfect tension with one another. The duck sausage is absurdly juicy and tender, with a faint but noticeable snap. Doug's hot dog buns are in a league of their own. Densely chewy but soft (think a more pillowy French bread), they are just as much a part of the show as the meat and toppings, and unlike regular hot dog buns, don't deflate into a mushy mess against the surface of the dog halfway through eating.

Wild Rice and Asiago Cheese Bison Sausage with Roasted Yellow Pepper Mayonnaise and Irish Porter Cheese

That week's Game of the Week was a wild rice and Asiago cheese bison sausage, topped with roasted yellow pepper mayonnaise and Irish Porter cheese. This dog assaults your senses with its depth and complexity. The bison sausage was dark and smoky, with a thick and snappy casing that lends a delightful texture to the dish. But it is the visually arresting beer-veined Irish Porter cheese that makes this dog. It perfumes the meat with its hoppy piquancy before dissolving into an intensely flavorful creamy emulsion in your mouth.

Duck fat fries

In addition to regular fries, Hot Doug's offers duck fat fries every Friday and Saturday. Perfectly crisp on the outside, they shatter into potato-y shards upon each bite, revealing a creamy, mealy interior. In short, probably some of the best fries I've had to date. They even managed to retain their winning texture after they had cooled off.

I have to admit that I questioned the greatness of Hot Doug's at several points along my lengthy journey to this fabled wiener joint. For instance, when I was walking along a lonely stretch of road after taking a city bus to the middle of some small freak-ass suburb on the outskirts of Chicago.

Or when I was freezing my boo-ha off in line behind a Chicago hipster with pungent beeswax-laden dreadlocks.

Thankfully, the line doesn't lie. It's worth the trek.

Hot Doug's

3324 North California

Chicago, IL 60618
Phone: (773) 279-9550

Hours: Mon-Sat, 10:30 AM to 4 PM. Closed on Sundays

Best dishes: Hot dogs, specialty sausages, fries.

Things to know: Cash only; duck fat fries only on Friday and Saturday; specials change daily

Ann Arbor: Monahan's Seafood Market

When I made the decision to attend law school in Michigan almost two years ago, no one told me that I would be constructively depriving myself of decently fresh seafood for three years. That's just one little tidbit they left out of the glossy brochures. The seafood in Michigan is abysmal. It is so abysmal that even some of the supposedly higher end restaurants in Ann Arbor succeed in serving fish and shellfish entrees that at best, are of questionable freshness, and at worst, taste defrosted or old.

The one bright spot in this rather bleak picture is Monahan's. Generally considered to be the best place for fresh fish in Ann Arbor, founder Mike Monahan sources fish from the usual out-of-state suspects (New England, Florida, Hawaii, etc.), as well as locally (Michigan is, after all, surrounded by four of the five Great Lakes). They also pride themselves on being the only market in Ann Arbor to bring fish in whole, and then cutting or filleting to order.

Monahan's also does a brisk lunch business out of a small side counter in their fish market operation. Everyday from 11am to 3pm, the staff serves up tried-and-true favorites, as well as daily fish and chowder specials that they post on Twitter. During a particularly unproductive weekend, I meandered down to the fish market, located in Sparrow Market in Kerrytown, to check out some of the lunch offerings.

Fish and chips: Beer battered, North Atlantic pollack, with hand-cut fries

I went for the classic fish and chips during my first visit. The pollack was flaky, tender, mildly flavorful and fresh - just as it should be. The house-made tartar sauce, thick and tangy and loaded with pickled cucumber, only accentuates the quality of the fish. However, the frying technique at Monahan's leaves a bit to be desired. The batter encasing that great pollack was resoundingly crisp in some spots, but greasy and limp in others. The hand-cut fries exhibited similar unevenness in texture.

Bernie's Fabulous Chowder of the Day: New England clam chowder

Monahan's Atlantic Salmon Burgers, served with lettuce, tomato, onion and mustard-dill sauce

Still, I enjoyed my meal enough to pay Monahan's a second visit a few days later for a salmon burger and some New England clam chowder. The burger is served on a lightly toasted hamburger bun, which gives the sandwich just enough crunch. However, the salmon cake, while velvety and moist, could have used a bit more seasoning. I took a few bites sans the mustard-dill sauce and found the salmon flavor too mild. The sauce was a necessity with this sandwich, not a superfluous indulgence. The chowder, on the other hand, was well-balanced and expertly seasoned, with generous chunks of potato, celery and clam immersed in the creamy broth. For once, the clams were tender, rather than rubbery, and they didn't look or taste canned.

There is no doubt that the seafood at Monahan's is supremely fresh, and for that, they should be commended. The staff also deserves praise for their attentiveness and willingness to accommodate; my servers on both occasions were jovial and prompt. Monahan's aquatic fare is good, but the kitchen needs to tighten up their seasoning and cooking technique so that the preparation stands up to the quality of the product. Nevertheless, Monahan's has great potential, and I look forward to sampling more of their specials during the remainder of my time in Michigan.

Monahan's Seafood Market

407 N. Fifth Ave.
Ann Arbor, MI 48104

(734) 662-5118

Best dishes: Chowder, fish and chips

Hours: Lunch served Monday-Saturday, 11am-3pm; Sunday, bagels & lox served all day

Website: http://www.monahansseafood.com/

Sunny and Annie's Deli

The Korean deli is a New York staple. Where else can you find made-to-order sandwiches and salads, soups, groceries, a hot and cold buffet, sushi and udon noodle soup all in one place? It is the perfect lunch standby for the mercurial and demanding New Yorker. The key, of course, is to figure out which delis excel in whatever it is you're craving at the moment.

Upon moving to the East Village this past summer, I did a quick search on Yelp, which revealed that Sunny and Annie's was the place for sandwiches in the neighborhood. Specifically, the P.H.O. Real Sandwich - pho masquerading as a hoagie.

Sunny and Annie's does an impressive job of capturing the flavors of a bowl of pho between two pieces of bread. All of the necessary aromatics - bean sprouts, cilantro, onions and basil - are in there, along with some unconventional but welcome additions, such as avocado and tomato. In lieu of mayo and mustard are squirts of sriracha and hoisin sauce. Crammed into the heart of the sandwich is a generous amount of roast beef. Unfortunately, the beef is dry and well-done. A bloodier, moister roast beef would better mimic the rare beef that is usually sliced into the broth. I can picture a more upscale establishment taking the concept even further, serving a star anise spiked beef broth with the sandwich for an Oriental riff on a French dip sandwich.

The P.H.O. Real sandwich may not warm you up like a bowl of noodles would on a cold winter day, but if you happen to be running around Alphabet City one day with a hankering for pho, the P.H.O. Real at Sunny and Annie's is a stand-in that's worth a try.

Sunny and Annie's

94 Avenue B
New York, NY 10003

Basta Pasta

The hackneyed, usually misguided notion of "East meets West" has conferred a number of horrors upon society. An era of bad "Asian" fusion restaurants. General Tso's chicken. Steven Seagal movies.

Unfortunately, Basta Pasta joins the ranks of these botched attempts at cultural amalgamation. An experiment in Japanese-Italian cuisine, it exhibits many of the same qualities that befall the worst offenders of the East-meets-West cliche: novel enough to pique your interest, questionably lauded by many, neither country represented particularly well. The result is confused and poorly executed fare that captures neither the clean precision of Japanese cuisine nor the comforting heartiness of Italian food.

The meal begins innocuously enough. Truth be told, I enjoyed myself somewhat at the bread and appetizer stage. Little crisps of bread anointed with slices of goat cheese "lite" were brought to the table. I say goat cheese "lite" because it tasted like a cross between butter and goat cheese, the usual gaminess of the goat's milk diluted by a creamier, saltier flavor.

Calamari alla griglia: Grilled squid served with homemade sausage stuffed with curry risotto, golden raisins, pistachios and prosciutto.

Bagna cauda: Fresh vegetables with warm anchovy cream dip.

Calamari alla griglia arrived next. Though a bit salty, this dish wasn't half bad. The squid was tender, and the sausage was moist and well-spiced with curry. A less aggressive hand with the salt shaker and this would have been a solid appetizer. However, bagna cauda, the Piedmontese garlic-anchovy vegetable dip, would have been more aptly named "cream of garlic and salt." There was not one discernible anchovy in the white gloop that was served, and the consistency was reminiscent of those Campbell's condensed cream soups that I loved as a child. Still, strangely tasty, in that processed, I-know-it's-crap-but-my-taste-buds-like-fat-and-salt kind of way.

Spaghetti ai Ricci di Mare: Spaghetti with sea urchin, tomatoes and basil in garlic oil.

Server tossing pasta in Parmesan wheel.

Spaghetti con Prosciutto e Parmagiano: Spaghetti with Parmesan and Parma Prosciutto

Then the pastas arrived, and things took a turn for the worse. The much-hyped sea urchin spaghetti is perhaps one of the worst pastas I have ever had. Lackluster, pink tomatoes (can someone please explain serving out-of-season tomatoes in the middle of summer at a half-Italian restaurant?) languished on top of bland, store-bought noodles. Raggedy scraps of sea urchin littered the plate, polluting the dish with a bitter and metallic taste I never quite managed to rid my mouth of. The Spaghetti con Prosciutto e Parmagiano was equally as insipid, despite being energetically tossed in a gargantuan wheel of Parmesan cheese tableside. This bit of theater is probably the best part of ordering pasta at Basta Pasta, but it's sort of like going to the strip club - you get a tantalizing show, but leave with a noticeably thinner wallet and a hard-on for something a lot more fulfilling and expensive.

Tagliolini con Ragu di Pesce: Homemade tagliolini with Chilean sea bass ragu, capers and shredded zucchini in a spicy tomato sauce.

The tagliolini with Chilean sea bass is the one saving grace of the restaurant's pasta offerings. The texture of the pasta is slightly better, and the sauce is zesty and chock full of fish and ripe tomatoes (presumably, not the same ones thrown on top of the sea urchin monstrosity).

Vulcano: Melting chocolate inside warm cocoa sponge cake with vanilla gelato and fresh fruit

Crepe con Mela: Crepe filled with vanilla gelato, apple compote, Earl Grey jelly and sliced almonds.

For some reason, we ordered dessert. The molten chocolate cake was even more generic than most, being neither dense nor molten enough. And the Crepe con Mela tasted strangely of Kool-Aid, which was amusing and nostalgic, but nevertheless, unsatisfying.

In the right hands, fusion cuisine can be a success. However, Basta Pasta's neglect of the basic ideals of both Japanese and Italian cooking (unripe tomatoes? old sea urchin?) makes for a muddled and subpar experience that fails to impress on either front.

Basta Pasta

37 W. 17th Street

New York, NY 10011

(212) 366-0888

Best dishes: Calamari alla griglia, tagliolini with sea bass ragu

Sorella

The borders of Chinatown have been creeping into Little Italy for years now, but Italian newcomer Sorella has decided to strike back. In 2009, it plopped itself down between two rundown Chinese storefronts on Allen Street, close enough to the East Village to attract downtown hipsters with its small plates and wine bar concept, but in a humble enough location to match its fledgling status. Its impenetrable dark gray exterior is hardly inviting, but behind those heavy doors and rows of tiny porthole windows, a delightful jaunt through the cuisine of Piedmont, Italy awaits those curious enough to enter.

Piedmont is located in northern Italy, and is one of the country's wealthiest regions. Unsurprisingly, its cuisine is characterized by luxurious, rich ingredients; egg yolks, truffles, butter and cheese are used with a heavy hand. Sorella doesn't deviate from this decadent approach, yet manages to imbue a certain lightness to its fare, so that the diner is satisfied, rather than overwhelmed, by the end of the meal. The way the menu is structured, into qualcosina ("little something" in Italian), probably helps too.

The meal begins with a bundle of complimentary grissini, the slender breadsticks that originated in Turin, the capital of Piedmont. Crunchy and salty, they have an addictive quality that will have you reaching for them throughout your meal.

Pate de fegato: Duck fat English muffin bread, chicken liver mousse, fried egg, bacon.

This is what I came to Sorella for. Extravagant? Sure. Pervasive meatiness emanating from every duck fat-soaked bite I took? Check. However, while this dish was good, it was a bit underwhelming. The flavors failed to play off one another and highlight the intensity of the other components; they were individually delicious, but never became more than a sum of their parts.

Hearst Ranch Beef Carne Cruda: sugar snap peas, parmesan, lemon aioli and crispy shallots.

The beef cruda fared much better. Luscious cubes of beef sit on the plate like a mound of rubies, crowned with a tangle of fried shallots that lend a savory crunch to the supple meat. The effect is a whole lot like eating a good rare steak topped with some frizzled onions or thick cut potato chips - just in a more refined package. A smear of that lemon aioli, and that's about as good as it gets. The sugar snap peas were lovely as well, sweet and delicate, momentarily punctuated by the sharp Parmesan with each forkful.

Risotto: Ruby red shrimp, Caprino Capra, lemon, almond, chilies

Pasta is one of Sorella's strong points. Risotto, which I usually associate with fall or winter, had been carefully tweaked to complement the warm summer weather through the use of lighter, sunnier ingredients. The fat, al dente grains of rice, which had been stirred to a creamy (though never mushy) consistency were enlivened by the zest of the lemon and subtle crunch of sliced almonds. From time to time, you will be rewarded with one of those sweet ruby red shrimp, plump and jewel-like, nestled in the risotto's starchy depths.

Tajarin: Lamb ragu, black pepper ricotta, pistachios, mint

Tajarin, a delicate, egg yolk-heavy pasta specific to the Piedmont region, is one of the best pastas you will ever eat and Sorella's is no exception. The subtle gaminess of the lamb, the grassiness of the ricotta and the soft egginess of the pasta combine in a whirlwind of contrasting and complementary flavors, the noodles maintaining an ethereal daintiness despite their heavy accoutrements. I especially loved the ricotta, which is thicker and more paste-like than most - it gives the dish a presence rather than taking a backseat to the lamb and the tajarin.

Brussel sprouts with bacon and apple

The brussel sprouts were the only true disappointment of the night. They had been roasted down to a abrasive bitterness, rather than a caramelized sweetness. We abandoned this shortly after its arrival.

Bomboloni: Lemon custard, raspberry sauce

These little Italian doughnuts are a favorite of mine, and I order them every chance I get. On that particular night, a tart lemon custard had been piped into the doughnuts, which were accompanied by a raspberry dipping sauce. While I love both lemon and raspberry, I would have preferred more of a contrast between the filling and the sauce. The tart sweetness of the lemon custard was mirrored in the raspberry sauce, making for a rather one-dimensional experience. Nevertheless, I ate my fair share.

Assortment of gelato: Espresso, hazelnut and peanut butter

Like any good Italian restaurant, Sorella offers a daily selection of gelati and sorbetti. Neither the espresso nor the hazelnut gelato made much of an impression; however, the peanut butter evoked memories of my favorite childhood Reese's ice cream.

Sorella is a bit pricey, with small plates ranging from $10-16 and desserts from $8-11. With wine, the meal can become exorbitantly expensive for what you thought was a casual dinner out. The wines are impressive, but if you are worried about price, splurge on either food or wine, not both. The restaurant itself is conducive to such an approach; it is split into two main areas: a dimly lit wine bar at the front of the restaurant, and a small but airy dining area in the back with expansive skylights cut into the ceiling. Whatever your pleasure, once you are behind that imposing facade, you will find yourself transported to a charming cafe in Piedmont, where carefree diners sip velvety wines and laugh over wonderfully executed regional cuisine - a little bit of Italy in Chinatown.

Sorella

95 Allen St.

New York, NY 10002

Best dishes: Beef cruda, risotto, tajarin, any of the pastas

Hours: Closed on Mondays; Tues-Sat: 6pm - 2am; Sun: 5:30pm-midnight. A reservation is likely not necessary.

Mike's Halal Cart

Halal carts are ubiquitous in New York, particularly in neighborhoods like Midtown and the Financial District, where a halal cart might be found on all four corners of a single intersection. That's a lot of street meat. How is one supposed to distinguish between the good and the bad? There are, of course, those that have achieved widespread fame (Chicken and Rice at 53rd and 6th, Kwik Meal), and others get by on a combination of word-of-mouth, loyal cult following and food bloggery. I found Mike's thanks to the latter, and was sufficiently intrigued by the promises of real grilled lamb (not a Kronos gyro cone) to pay them a visit.

Mike's is the little halal cart that could. Simple and nondescript (I wasn't even sure I was at the right cart until I saw a small stack of business cards perched on the ledge of the cart emblazoned with "Mike's"), this cart dishes out one of the best halal platters in the city.

The first thing you'll notice is the white sauce. Unlike the white sauce at most other halal carts, which often look either like runny mayo or ranch dressing, Mike's white sauce sits majestically on top of the platter in snowy, stiff peaks, the key indicator of the thick tangy yogurt that comprises it. It tastes different too, like a beautiful, rich tzatziki, with an underlying grassiness reminiscent of goat cheese. The second thing you'll notice? The tender chunks of grilled lamb, boasting veins of unctuous fat interspersed throughout the meat that bombard your taste buds with a fierce, lamb flavor. At one point, I actually began to wonder if Mike had run out of lamb that day and substituted a particularly delicious cut of pork. There was little gaminess to the meat, which only intensified my confusion. It didn't help that I was in the throes of street meat ecstasy at the same time*.

The chicken at Mike's exhibits similar tenderness and flavor, but the star here is the lamb. Both rest on a bed of exceptionally fluffy rice, infused with hints of curry and coriander. Everything tastes fresh, and the quality is on par with what you would get at a fine Greek or Middle Eastern restaurant. Indeed, your senses may be fooled into thinking you are dining at such a restaurant, until you see the white expanse of your now empty Styrofoam container, and you realize, with a slight jolt of disbelief, that your supreme contentment can be attributed to two ordinary men, doggedly grilling meat, trying to earn a living out of a little cart on the corner of South and Wall.

*After my initial post, I was informed by several law school classmates that in places devoid of food carts (a.k.a. uncivilized America), the term "street meat" is used to refer to prostitutes. Let me just clarify that I was not in that kind of ecstasy during my lunch. But hey, you learn something new every day.

Mike's Halal Cart

Corner of South St. and Wall St.

New York, NY 10038