In Memoriam

I noticed two mentions of local food figures who have died recently-- Nicola D'Amato, and Wendy Gilbert of Savoy Truffle. Is there anyone else we should remember who passed in 2004?

Well, we've noted it before, but Julia Child would be a major name now gone.

Hammond

The owner of Shawerma King.

An in memorium mention should also be made for Horwath's, a favorite supper club with a storied past that was torn down to make way for an empty lot.

Hammond

Well, the death of restaurants in 2004 should be a separate list. Add to it Printers' Row Restaurant on Dearborn at Harrison, soon to be the site of yet another Potbelly.

David Hammond wrote:An in memorium mention should also be made for Horwath's, a favorite supper club with a storied past that was torn down to make way for an empty lot.

Hammond

Mr. Hammond,

This calls for a replay of one of your classics. Tonight, on New Year's Eve, raise your Mahattan, Martini, Tom Collins, etc. to Howarth's. Only cocktails allowed. No toasts with great champagne or fine wine.

In search of...Salisbury Steak: Horwath's, Elmwood Park
November 19, 2002

"Salisbury steak and the news of the student disorders
Parsnips and butter and armies patrolling our borders"

Tom Paxton knew of what he sang in 1968 (Summer of Love) - this stanza from "Victoria Dines Alone" crystallizes Salisbury steak's high-comfort quotient, particularly during tumultuous times.

In the late 90s, I went to Horwath's as much as possible. The Wife still rolls her eyes whenever I suggest we go again - so, I haven't been there for two or more years.

This noon, Da' Mare, QC, and I made an appearance at this Elmwood Park relic, and at least two of us were in search of Dr. Salisbury's epitome of feel good food. I knew all would be well the second the sign came into view: a big bubbling martini glass with the words "GOOD FOOD," all caps, right under the name, Horwath's.

This is an old school mid-level supper club-type place with a checkered past. As reported in last week's Wednesday Journal, it's a former hangout for Momo and other River Forest Mafiosi. My favorite waitress, Patty (big, gap-toothed, gregarious Wyf of Bath), once regaled us with tales of a strong box being dynamited through the basement wall and out onto Harlem, as well as various nefarious apres felony dinners that were enjoyed here not so long ago. Chuckie English got whacked in the Horwath parking lot - or perhaps it was a suicide (word on the street alleges that he shot himself in the head: three times).

My Sicilian grandmother long ago cautioned me that it's never polite to come heavy to lunch with friends, but in Horwath's spacious and sunlit dining room, I felt a little exposed. So I sat where I could see the door, figuring if we should happen to find ourselves in the crossfire of an early afternoon hit, I could flip the table and throw myself on Da' Mare, a human shield protecting the Chowhound body politic.

For lunch or dinner, you can have the Jell-O course - which I always do, taking it with the Melba sauce, which is a light and creamy and contrasts nicely with transparent food.

VI and I had the Salisbury steak. Did it fail to satisfy? Hey, do cops use turn signals?! Of course, it didn't fail - it was exactly what we were looking for: roughly textured, mingled with scallions and a little garlic, slopping around in a glistening deep brown mushroom sauce. A mini Devil's Tower of mashed potato soaked up stray rivulets of gooey gravy, and to the side, a cord of green beans were the ideal complement to Dr. Salisbury's prescription for health.

QC had the London Broil, and had very good things to say about it and the salad with bleu cheese dressing.

Walking out, we admired the dark wood bar, ringed with banquettes, studded with golden bowls of spreadable cheddar, and lined with elderly men and very white women gingerly sucking Scotch and Newports. I reflected that if VI or I had a single hair on our ass between us, we would have stopped for a cocktail before lunch (as we would have, in the day).

Past the cigarette machine and into the crisp, glistening gunmetal blue 9/11 brilliance of this autumn day, I realized that the Salisbury steak had bolstered me, shooting me up to a state usually inspired by a few stiff slugs of Jack Daniels: bulletproof.

Horwath's (now demolished)
1850 N. Harlem Avenue
Elmwood Park, IL 60707
708-453-0413
www.horwathsrestaurant.com

I don't know her name, the woman who owned Kuhn's Delicatessen in Deerfield.

&&&

Another nameless individual whose obituary I read earlier this year. He was one of us, a member of our tribe who never found us before he died. He loved going to restaurants. He loved chatting up the staff and learning the inside stuff. He was the go-to person amongst his friends and relatives on all-things food and restaurants. You could tell from reading his obituary, if he had found us, then he'd be at every dinner he could possibly muster the strength to go to.

George Nicolaou of Oak Park's Thyme and Honey

Antonius' friend Pat, as remembered in this great post

My sister-in-law Paula Shanks who made sushi for all of us one New Year's eve. I hadn't known that sushi was something ordinary people could make.

Ann:

Thank you very much for remembering that post and for mentioning Pat here. Pat was a very knowledgeable and discriminating food shopper and a fine cook. I must say that he turned me on to a number of great food stores over the years, including Bari Foods, Paulina Market, Fox and Obel, and the two Italian places in his home town of Kenosha, Tenuta's and Ruffolo's (click here for a recent report).

Pat would have been a great LTHer except for one thing: he hated computers.

Thanks too for the link to your sister-in-law's memorial site which I spent some time looking through.

Antonius

Ran across this one looking for something else: Joel Findlay, of 302 West in Geneva.

Let us not forget Ronald Reagan, who elevated catsup, once thought merely a condiment, to the status of Vegetable. And let us hope the current administration sees fit to place the once lowly catsup where it truly belongs: in the ranks of entree (I have an eccentric aunt in Tampa who enjoys catsup sandwiches, so why not?).

Hammond

My Mother ate mustard sandwiches as a kid, so anything is possible.

Jeff Smith whose on-screen personna I enjoyed. Unfortunately, he wasn't so pleasant in 'real' life and his dark side came back to haunt him. Yet, there are a few things I cooked up in my life because he made it seem so easy; which can be said of many cooking shows actually. Yep, 30 minutes on the tube translates into hours for me, if you take into account shopping.

I wonder how many years it will be, if ever, before Jeff Smith's show will be broadcast again.

Cathy2 wrote:My Mother ate mustard sandwiches as a kid, so anything is possible.

On this note (which I realize is a little off-topic), I eat nothing but mustard on pancakes. I think I read a reference to this culinary quirk in a Shakespeare play years ago, and it seemed like it might taste good, and it did.

Hammond

If it was Shakespeare you probably misheard it; the correct word was "bastard."

FAL. T'were but mustarde upon the porpentines.

HEN. From Burgundy?

FAL. Aye, t'was French's mustarde.

HEN. Then t'were not mustarde, but a bastard son
Whose sun shineth not in verdant yellow
Upon English pancakes.
Would that I had the syrup to coat his feast
And Burgundy's pancakes lay coldening in the east.

(EXEUNT)

David Hammond wrote:I eat nothing but mustard on pancakes. It seemed like it might taste good, and it did.

Hammond

Are you just trying to keep up the mystique? The mystery man in the fedora.

You REALLY put mustard on buttermilk or buckwheat pancakes? Mustard tastes better than syrup or fruit? Just mustard? None of your beloved catsup?

Best,
Al

Al Ehrhardt wrote:You REALLY put mustard on buttermilk or buckwheat pancakes? Mustard tastes better than syrup or fruit? Just mustard? None of your beloved catsup?

Al, I never actually tried mustard on buckwheat; usually I use it to perk up the otherwise drab white cakes.

However, about buckwheat cakes: where the hell are they? I looked for buckwheat cakes at Al's last week, no dice. Denny's, no dice. Sheesh, they don't have buckwheat cakes at the Original International House of Pancakes.

I like buckwheat cakes.

Hammond

Sheesh, they don't have buckwheat cakes at the Original International House of Pancakes.

A coon skin fedora and now buckwheat . Wheres the thought police when you need 'em?

David Hammond wrote:However, about buckwheat cakes: where the hell are they? I looked for buckwheat cakes at Al's last week, no dice. Denny's, no dice. Sheesh, they don't have buckwheat cakes at the Original International House of Pancakes.

I like buckwheat cakes.

Hammond

Hammy, my fave and only preferred breakfast spot, Healthy Foods in Bridgeport, serves an order of Buckwheat cakes that is my specific favorite eating-out breakfast.

And one can ogle the newly-arrived Lithuanian waitresses.

Unless it has all changed, as I have not been for a while.