{"id":689,"date":"2009-07-06T10:47:24","date_gmt":"2009-07-06T17:47:24","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/?p=689"},"modified":"2025-05-23T17:33:50","modified_gmt":"2025-05-23T22:33:50","slug":"689","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/689\/","title":{"rendered":"Braving The Taste And Living To Tell About It- Monday July 6"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"taste-sign1\" Walking towards the cheerful Taste of Chicago entrance filled me with equal parts excitement and trepidation. \u00a0 I was overwhelmed with pride for my uncharacteristic show of adventure.<\/p>\n

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I dutifully lined up to be frisked by security.\u00a0 Two burly men and two stout women stood and shouted at the crowd in correctional officer voices: “MOVE IT ALONG PEOPLE, I know what I’m looking for.\u00a0 Females to the left, males to the right.\u00a0 MOVE”\u00a0 I grinned at the guard patting my backpack.\u00a0 He sneered and waved me forward with the bulk of his forehead.<\/p>\n

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\"turkey-leg1\" I walked down Columbus drawn towards Manny’s, the turkey leg booth. It was more incredible than I ever could have imagined.\u00a0 Throngs of people milled around holding gamy- barbecued sauced gigantic turkey legs.\u00a0 They smiled and took pictures of each other.\u00a0 One 95 pound Chinese woman ate two at a time- Fred Flintstone style.\u00a0 “I love you, Taste of Chicago” I murmured at the crowd.<\/p>\n

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No one cared that I blatantly took pictures of them feasting on the street. I imagined this is what it would feel like to attend a Roman Circus, with slightly fewer weapons and bloodshed<\/p>\n

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\"crowd-12\"While contemplating the “all sales are final” sign at Manny’s I had failed to notice the crowd swelling. When I tried to take a left at Jackson, I realized one of the major reasons why people hate the Taste: the foot traffic.\u00a0 Most revelers acted like this is their first time walking, first time in public, first time eating food.\u00a0 It’s strange.\u00a0 I think that gorging on food while standing brings out the worst in everyone, especially me.\u00a0 I stopped in my tracks every few feet to stare open mouthed at the crowds.<\/p>\n

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Trying to focus, I put on my glasses and hunted for my first destination: The Grill on the Alley for prime rib quesadillas and gazpacho.\u00a0 Although normally not an enthusiastic meat eater, I wanted to push myself to eat with abandon.\u00a0 Slogging through the crowd, I got distracted at the Vermillion<\/a> booth..<\/p>\n

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\"fries1\"The sign called to me like a siren: “Mango-Cumin dusted fries with date chutney”. I ordered a tasting version.\u00a0 It was delicious- it made me scoff at every other french fry I had ever eaten- and I was relieved to have already tried something exotic.<\/p>\n

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\"prime-q1\"Moving a few booths east took about fifteen minutes, but it was worth it.\u00a0 The Grill on the Alley<\/a> felt like an oasis after hiking through the horde of tourists. My prime rib quesadilla was thrilling.\u00a0 I whispered lovingly to it while I stood in the street, joining the clog I had been bitching about moments before.\u00a0 I had to share this dish with my photographer because I was already panicking about hydration.<\/p>\n

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If you are phobic about porti-pottys and come across this sight: \"potty1\"You might view your water bottle with suspicion.\u00a0 On one hand, it offers you relief.\u00a0 On the other hand, it is a catalyst for voiding one’s bladder in public.\u00a0 I tried to carefully sip water, hoping that I’d make it through the Taste without having to enclose myself in a plastic box of feces to urinate. Waving away my water bottle and using gazpacho to wash down another bite of quesadilla, I was on the move.<\/p>\n

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My next goal was to get to the south end of the festival and enjoy a low-potential-for-bacteria vegetarian meal.\u00a0 Creeping down Columbus allowed me to reflect on my experience.\u00a0 I didn’t expect that the whole point of the Taste was to just stand in the streets eating food.\u00a0 This realization made me feel lucky and snobby at the same time.\u00a0 I don’t have to wait until an annual street fair to sample new restaurants.\u00a0 I don’t have to graze food booths like a human cow to try different food.\u00a0 I don’t have to haul screaming toddlers down a steaming street to find the Garret’s popcornsicle stand.<\/p>\n

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I watched people load and unload from the temporary ferris wheel.\u00a0 The lawns were filling up with people setting up camp to watch the fireworks.\u00a0 Teenagers were pushing each other, making out, and begging people to buy them beer.<\/p>\n

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\"indian-food1\".<\/p>\n

Finally, I stumbled upon Arya Bhavan<\/a>.\u00a0 By this point I had learned that lines were for chumps and I immediately walked to the front of the herd. I ordered a samosa and Pav Bhaji with Nan.<\/p>\n

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My photographer staked out a small spot on the lawn and we sat for a moment eating the best damn Indian food I’ve ever had.\u00a0\u00a0 We took turns sipping water and staring at the crush of people walk by.<\/p>\n

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I gave a short lecture on how incredible I must be to have pursued this experience and actually enjoy it.\u00a0 My photographer muttered “we’ll see how the walk back goes” but I was undeterred.\u00a0 Maybe my days of hating the public are over.\u00a0 I always dread events like this, but then have a great time once I get into it.\u00a0 It’s like I want to be more high-maintenance that I really am.<\/p>\n

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I threw my napkins and paper trough in the rolling garbage can and took a deep breath.\u00a0 It was time to brave the swarm of fatties and march back down Columbus. . . By now, it was impossible to walk in a straight line.<\/p>\n

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\"crowd-21\".<\/p>\n

Mobs of people formed human mountains that had to be circumvented. “I feel like a pioneer” I gasped after ducking a biker waving a lit cigarette.\u00a0 My photographer’s eyes rolled in his head like a panicked horse, and I grabbed his shirt tail.<\/p>\n

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We were one block from the exit, but found ourselves on the other side of Manny’s.\u00a0 The turkey leg booth congregation had reached mega-church proportions.\u00a0\u00a0 My throat burned with thirst and and feet ached.<\/p>\n

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I had to get my photographer to safety before one of us collapsed or had to use a porti-potty.\u00a0 I put my head down and squared my shoulders, and I pressed through the public like a freight train.\u00a0 I heard turkey leg eaters protest and felt my hair grow slick with barbecue sauce. .When I looked up, we were at the exit gates. I had survived.<\/p>\n

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Slightly sunburned and in possession of a noticeably bloated stomach, I walked slowly back to my apartment.\u00a0 My eyes welled up with tears of joy.\u00a0 I had set a goal and accomplished it.\u00a0 I don’t have to fear public events or a lack of hand washing stations- I can let the soothing ache of a full stomach propel me zen-like through an ocean of humans.\u00a0 And when I can’t stand it for another minute, I can easily push people the hell out of my way. \"city1\"<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Walking towards the cheerful Taste of Chicago entrance filled me with equal parts excitement and trepidation. \u00a0 I was overwhelmed with pride for my uncharacteristic show of adventure. . I dutifully lined up to be frisked by security.\u00a0 Two burly men and two stout women stood and shouted at the crowd in correctional officer voices: … Continue reading “Braving The Taste And Living To Tell About It- Monday July 6”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-689","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/689","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=689"}],"version-history":[{"count":22,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/689\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3757,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/689\/revisions\/3757"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=689"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=689"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.poorluckyme.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=689"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}