GLUTTONY MAY BE ONE OF THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS...

...but some times, you just gotta sin a little.

Regular readers of this blog know that my trips to Chicago mean one thing--gluttony!

Indeed, it's amazing that I'm not clinically obese, given the typical itinerary of my visits to the new world.

My Christmas 2006 visit was no exception. I ate so many things from so many different restaurants, stands and greasy spoons that I'd surely bore my readership to tears if I attempted to describe these exploits in detail.

So, I'll just mention the two highlights (i.e., those above and beyond my already well-documented Christmas and New Years Eve pig-outs).

The first highlight involved--quite predictably--Q.

My law school roommate, Tony Soju, and I pillaged my favorite of all Chicago Q joints--The Smoke Daddy, at 1804 W. Division Street. [TBF...take note!!!]

Pictured above are the two protagonsists seated at a booth in Smoke Daddy.

And here's what we ate!

On the left, we have a Ribs Sampler--containing equal parts baby backs, spares and rib tips. Sides were cole slaw and baked beans. On the right, we have The BBQ Sampler--which proudly sports brisket, pulled pork, cole slaw and sweet potato fries. We split both plates between us and--with some pain and to our waitress's amazement--ate everything!

That was highlight #1. Here is #2.


Tony, Jai (my longtime high school and weight-lifting buddy) and I went to Sushi Station in Rolling Meadows, IL to snarf an ocean of raw fish. [TBF...take note!!!]

Behind us you can see Sushi Station's conveyor belt of sushi. It's pretty much an oval track running the length of a long, narrow, three-sided bar. The conveyor belt is covered with a plastic encasement. Each seat at the bar has its own door to the conveyor belt. When the sushi of your dreams is passing before your eyes, just lift the door, pull out your plate, and close the door.


Here we see Tony and Jai. I had to take the picture, because the waiter never returned as promised to take it for us. He must've been Spanish.


Each time you take a plate of sushi, you stack it. Plates are color-coated by price. Pink plates hold $2 sushi, blue plates $3, etc. At the end of the night, the waitress comes, counts your plates and calculates your tab. It's a task that would require me 45 minutes and a Kray supercomputer.

BTW...what you see above is around $100 worth of sushi plates. Boys will be boys.


Tony informed that a sushi meal should end with a bowl of noodles. He should know these things. He is, after all, married to a Japanese woman. So, I had no choice but to toe the Nippon line.

And boy-oh-boy, am I glad that I did! Why? Because of all Japanese dishes, noodles are my favorite.

I've had a special affinity for Japanese noodle dishes (not to mention, raw eggs!) since I first watched the movie "Tampopo"--which is a surreal, 1985 Japanese film about the search for the perfect bowl of Ramen noodles.

There were no Ramen at Sushi Station. Ramen, after all, is for truck drivers.

But Sushi Station does have Udon noodles. And the photo above shows the bowl of Udon noodles--with an outrageously flavorful bonito broth, a slice of fish cake and a tempura shrimp--that met a quick and violent demise just minutes after I grabbed hold of that spoon.

The sushi was great, but the Udon was the highlight for me.

And, now...I'm back in Spain. Wondering what, where and how much I'll eat during my next trip to Chicago.

I don't know the answer, but you'll be the first to find out.