So today I thought I'd compare two Chicago icons, Gino's East and Johnnie's Beef (they practically rhyme), head to head. To keep it on a level playing field, I ordered the chicken taco at both places.
Okay, not really. However, I did eat food from both places in the last 24 hours or so. And here's my report.
1) To sum up my tasting of both thick and thin when ordered in for a working lunch in Evanston: who the hell told Gino's they could make pizza? How did this wanly stereotypical Chicago pizza wind up in all the tourist guides as a must have Chicago experience?
Okay, there's always a perspective. In Wichita in 1978, or at an airport, Gino's would be an okay pizza. But it tastes like airport pizza even when not served in an airport. The thick was just kind of tired, tired canned sauce, limp cheese, the churn-em-out-by-the-millions yellow crust. Uninspiring, and that's not by definition the condition of local chains serving pizza to tourists-- I order Malnati's at home occasionally and the crisp crust and fresh chunky sauce make it seem like Alice Waters is working in the kitchen by comparison. The thin supreme actually had a little more flavor-- at least their sausage and pepperoni isn't bad-- but was hurt by the fact that something in it, mushrooms or whatever, expressed so much water in the cooking process that it soaked the crust, making it impossible to judge its original virtues.
As I once said on another board to yet another tourist seeking validation of his choice of Gino's as a must-have Chicago meal, "It's not only not the best pizza in Chicago, it's not even the best pizza starting with G in Chicago, in fact it's not even the best pizza starting with G-I- and ending with O-apostrophe-S." (If the question is, did I mean Giordano's or Gigio's, the answer is yes, and there's probably a Giorgio's somewhere that does better, too.)
2. Would you believe I've never eaten at Johnnie's before today?
Let me repeat that so there's no mistake. Would you believe I've never eaten at Johnnie's before today? I've tried twice but the place was always packed. So... I went somewhere else.
Today, however, I not only ate there, I was there to OPEN Johnnie's. A meeting in Rosemont got out at 10:30, 90 looked like a living hell, and I thought, well, surely they open by 11. And so there I was, sixth customer in line waiting for the doors to open.
Of course, one reason I'd never been there is... well, I'm not crazy about Italian beef. It's okay, but not something I feel a need to eat regularly. In this town Italian beef will happen to you a few times a year if you just let it. No need to actually go looking for it.
But there I was. Desperately trying to remember what to tell the ordering Nazi ("Beef weck with fries?" "Adam and Eve on a raft?") Fortunately, "Combo with sweet" seemed to be the order of the day, so I figured I couldn't go wrong.
Conclusions as I sat trying not to get Johnnie's on my dress clothes? Well, any Italian beef sandwich is improved by a big hunk of sausage in its middle, I'm sure. So I yanked it out and ate the beef sandwich part by itself. And... I was converted. I'd love to say you're all nuts and Johnnie's is no better than any other Italian beef, but it is. Rapidly dissolving bread and juice and thin beef and mushy green sweet peppers and lots of spices all came together fairly sublimely. Honestly, it was almost as good as a good cheeseburger. So if you must eat Italian Beef, take it from me, the Italian Beef Agnostic. Eat at Johnnie's, the rare legend that lives up to its publicity.