Quest: Eat at an authentic African restaurant

A sangria-sized wineglass of hybiscus flower tea dripped languid drops of cool condensation, and offered a refreshing balance to the mild spiciness of my chicken fataya while I eagerly await my entree, the chef-recommended yassa djen.

I found Badou Senegalese Cuisine on Google Maps when looking for a new and different place to have lunch. It is small and inconspicuous, but with that "hidden-gem" anticipation about the small azure dining room.

The hybiscus tea was cool and refreshing, with a hint of sweet anis. I just barely chose it over the ginger juice, which was tangy and ginger-spicy and delicious, but the warm weather guided my senses toward the ruby crimson tea. Delightfully refreshing, and I felt very classy with my oversized wine glass.

A fataya is the Senegalese answer to an empanada. Shredded, marinated chicken is sautéed in piquant tomatoes and caramelized onion, and fried in a crispy pastry. Delicious!

When Paula, the cook and wife of the eponymous owner Badou, brought the yassa to my table, the first thing I noticed was the enormous portion. A mountain of white rice was topped with a thick layer of glistening sautéed onions, dotted black and scarlet with spices. The generous filet of tilapia was fried to a perfect crispiness and was not at all greasy. I was blown away; this was by far the best food I've had in months, and I've had some good food!

Paula had correctly ascertained that Senegal-style spiciness might very well leave me incapacitated and racked with gustatory regret, so she cut the spiciness to medium-mild. (It was still hot enough to make me sweat like a guilty man in church, but I can thank my Finnish heritage for that one.) She graciously left an entire pitcher of water for me. 

My overall experience at Badou was nothing short of amazing, and my bill came to a pocket-pleasing $17, and incredible deal for the quality and quantity!

By the way, weekends are BYOB, and I cant wait to bring my friends here to experience this culinary epiphany for themselves. Très bon!

Badou Senegalese Cuisine

2055 Howard St.

Roger's Park, Chicago

Dough: An Introduction to the Pretzel

I have of late, but wherefore I know not, been stuck in a rut.

I suppose everyone finds themselves stuck in a rut at one time or another, don't they? As far as places to be stuck go, ruts aren't that bad, for a time. They're usually somewhat bland, unthreatening and easy. I'd much rather be in a rut than a Turkish prison, so from a glass-half-full perspective, ruts aren't that bad. It's only when you've been in that rut for a long while that it begins to fill with cold water and mud, and suddenly you begin to wonder if this really is that different from a Turkish prison after all. Fortunately, unlike Turkish prisons, getting yourself out of a rut is not all that difficult.

This blog is intended to chronicle my escape from the clutches of the rut.

This journey from Rut to Freedom involves many elements, a few of which I will mention here for the sake of mentioning, then probably never again. Just as Hamlet admitted to Rosencrantz, I've become lazy about exercise, abandoned my hobbies and generally stopped noticing the little bits of everyday magic that happen all around me. I stay up too late at night and then sleep in, missing half of the day's light. I miss meals and then eat junk food. I set vague goals for myself, then passively let them float away unmet. My mind has become dusty and lethargic.

Aha! I shall embark on a Pretzel Quest!

The idea of the Pretzel Quest came originally from my rumbling stomach. I had the day off of work, it was sunny and I was bored and hungry. For reasons unknown, I had an undeniable craving for a hot ballpark pretzel. I just didn't know where to find one. So I put on my hiking boots, grabbed a notebook and a good pen, and got on the bus. I could have used Google to instantly find every possible pretzel source in the world, but I decided to do it the old fashioned way. I subsequently spent nearly the entire afternoon hungry and pretzel-less, but this made it all the more satisfying when I eventually found myself in at the Rock Bottom Pub on Grand and State with two beautiful, golden brown ballpark pretzels and probably the best beer cheese I've ever tasted.

But why stop there? I decided to make the Pretzel Quest into a Thing.

I sat down and made a list of the little Things I always want to do, and never quite get around to doing. I then decided that I ought to write about them, and assigned each item a word count and a time frame. Now whenever I find myself in the Rut, I have a tool to help me escape. This blog is designed not only to motivate me to complete my Quests and write about them, but also to help other rut-dwellers like myself to escape the monotony.

Happy Questing!