A good corned beef sandwich is hard to find, so I had to check out Jake’s Deli in Milwaukee when a foodie tipster told me about the place. First off, I love the history of the deli, which has been in the same location on North Avenue and 17th Street since the 1930s. It’s just as no-frills as it was when it first opened, complete with wooden booths (with defunct buzzers once used to summon servers), a great neon sign, a Berkel bread slicer, and a slew of guys behind the counter seasoning corned beef with paprika before hand-slicing it to order for each sandwich (which is the secret to killer corned beef). The house matzo ball soup is fantastic and the corned beef is super-tender, buttery and moist, with the paprika adding just the right kick. Fresh-sliced bread from Milwaukee-based Miller bakery is perfectly soft and doesn’t get soggy from the meat and spicy mustard. It took a good 20 minutes to place our order, as the place stays busy from open to close, complete with a line before they open around 10AM, but it’s worth the drive up from Chicago for a slice of Brewtown history, a damn good corned beef sandwich and did I mention the true sign of a great deli? House-made pickles. 1634 W. North Ave., 414.562.1272
The neon sign above the bustling deli counter
Extra-lean corned beef on rye
Salt and pepper, oil lamp, drink menus. The Drake Hotel, 140 E. Walton Pl., 312.932.4623
When it comes to the Jewish food I grew up on, I couldn’t get enough of the lox, latkes, challah, hell, I even love me some fried Matzo now and again. But I could never get into Hannukah chocolate coins or “gelt.” In the mid-’80s my older brother and I would share a serious nerd moment and tear open the mesh bags to wear them on our hands as fingerless “breakdancing gloves,” but even then we weren’t feeling the chocolate inside. It’s always had a weird texture, a bland, chalky taste and is way too much trouble to get to what with Fort Knox alumium foil wrapping that would throw a one-two paper-cut-punch as you tried to pry it apart. Somehow I still end up with a bag of Hannukah gelt every year, and I give it a shot hoping my tastebuds will finally acclimate just as they evenually did to gefilte fish. But the chalky taste remains. Next year, I’ll ask my aunt to send good chocolate or real coinage? Now don’t get me started on Manishevitz. Happy Hannukah y’all!
2018 W. Chicago Ave., 773.384.9930
Sticking out like a shady sore thumb amid the squeaky-clean facades of ESPN Zone and the Bloomingdale’s Home Store, I’ve always been intrigued by the Tokyo Hotel at Ohio and Wabash. It’s one of those little pockets of Chicago that look and feel like a New York City time warp, and it’s actually one of my favorite signs in the city. But has anyone ever ventured inside the suspect Chinese and Japanese restaurants that flank the entrance?
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