Lupe Fiasco's Food And Liquor by Lupe Fiasco

This is a pretty decent rap album, but I don't understand why Lupe Fiasco has to remind me at the beginning of every song that he's Lupe Fiasco. I own the album, damn!

RATING: 75%

Exchequer Restaurant & Pub

By my last night in Chicago, I thought I had run out of places to have pizza. I was wrong: Exchequer has pizza, and pitchers of beer, but also amazing burgers. Scouted by my friend Irene, it was the only restaurant in Chicago that could accommodate us on what just happened to be Valentimes Day. And I am glad that guys save pitchers and burgers for their mistresses because these burgers were fan-fucking-tastic. I'm sort of always tempted, even in the face of creative burger options, to go with my old standbys (mushroom and Swiss, or mozzarella if I'm feeling fancy). But I was lured in by the Bistro Burger -- black olives, goat cheese, and a Bistro sauce the ingredients of which I am totally ignorant of and don't care a fig about. And it was so. Good. The sauce, the cheese, the combination of it all, everything. Even the fries were perfect: crisp, shiny, salted. Look at that delicate pickle sliver. The whole thing was perfection. I guess I'm glad this place isn't in Houston because it would only be a matter of time before I was reviewing clogged arteries.

RATING: 94%

Quartino

If you're wondering where I ate lunch while in Chicago, the answer is in my hotel room: a Thomas's raisin bagel smeared with Skippy. Sad! I didn't have a ton of time so instead I ate a nice pizza dinner whenever I could. And when I left our dinner choice up to my ex-roommie, she wisely fed me Italian. No, not pizza this time, though Quartino apparently has nummy pizza, but Italian tapas. Where have these been all my life? Tapas are a non-commital eater's dream, and it was amazing to just get a little taste of all that stuff on the menu you might be curious about. A mini dish of bubbling hot eggplant parmigiana. A tiny plate of veal meatballs ("Yes!" I lied when my roommate asked if I ate veal. Sorry, lil' Elsie.) without a mountain of spaghetti to fill you up, so there's room for the fresh cavatelli with ricotta and tomatoes. Handmade pasta in my tapas? I say SI! They're also a wine bar so they served by the carafe, the half-carafe, and (the poor student in me rejoiced) the quarter-carafe. And I've gotta say, if you're a young twenty-something of a certain intellectual class and you're single and looking and in Chicago, you could do a lot worse than the patrons at this place, let me tell you.

(Photo courtesy of someone's awesome flikr)

RATING: 93%

Giordano's

Since I'm starved for regular, palatable Italian food here in Houston, when I found myself in Chicago I went on a pizza spree. My second night in the Windy City (people are cringing, right? That's like calling NY "The Big Apple"? Perfect.) brought me to Giordano's. Which one? Who cares, because there are like thirty in the city. My companions and I went for the "stuffed crust," which meant "really fat crust" and not "crust with cheese coming out of it" a la Pizza Hut. The crust is drier and a little sweeter, even, than other crusts, but nice and crumbly and deliciously paired with the melty, ooey-gooey cheese. We opted for a veggie pizza, which you can see looks like a swarm of crops attacked our pie. We ate in silence, completely consumed with consuming. I made a joke about how we were eating in silence and still, no one talked. That's Giordano's.

RATING: 89%