Chundy's

Hombre de Acero wrote:Chundy's

Grand Opening 14 November @ 6pm
...
I thought if only- he'd open a cafe serving his own food from his country- he'd "own" the Mauritius market in Chicago!

Chundy's
2957 W. Diversey

Went there tonight with my skeptical gf. I had to read her the rave review from some now-defunct blog to get her to trek Logan-ward.

Truly Xcellent chicken curry - the kind with crunchy peas and chickpeas and carrots; the pickled cole slaw was amazing; umm, at least I think that was what it was, but it was good anyway; the lentil soup better than most; and someone's going to have to explain the sweet-mustardy jalapeno's to me ... I thought they were great, I'm just not really sure what I was eating. If that's Mauritian cuisine then I want to visit. First I'll have to figure out exactly where it is.

Skeptical gf loved it too, I think, though sometimes she just tries to be agreeable.

Selection of drinks was a bit slim -- we ran him completely out of canned ginger ale (quantity - 2), so I had to follow up with a can of Coke.

Not very busy at all. It should be. Y'all should try it.

I have two archenemies in the world. Traffic Management Authority is one. Chundy’s is the other. They say you have to care about someone to hate them. Well, I hate Chundy’s.

Before that, I hated Golden Rise Bakery. Why? Their hours. Here’s an idea, a bakery that doesn’t open until 9am. What? Not successful!? Really. I used to stand at the bus stop and stare holes into their hours sign. COFFEE! CUPCAKES! BREAD! WAIT UNTIL YOU’RE AT YOUR OFFICE AND WE’LL OPEN UP! Fuck you.

Chundy’s has the same problem. It’s like they stepped up to the plate, and got caught looking. Struck out without taking a swing.

Buy some furniture. Buy some equipment. Commit. Show us you’re serious about it. Post a menu. Open at 6am for coffee and breakfast. Panera just 6 blocks away rang $615K last Saturday. I know that because I drove past Chundy’s on Monday for some coffee before work, and overheard the manager talking about it.

You don’t need to be cute. You need to be intentional. You need a menu that doesn’t look like a kid’s drawing. Just because you have a cooler doesn’t mean you should put it in your dining room. This is a café, not storage. A large freestanding, gas station type pop cooler in the dining area with no more than a dozen cans of mismatched pop. It probably holds 300. When it’s this empty, it looks neglected.

I wanted to leave right then. This was a bad idea. Trust your instincts. Run. Before I could, the owner got up from the dining area and walked behind the counter. Hello.

I ask if they have vegetarian stuff, as there is nothing on the chalk-marker menu to indicate that. He says yes, we have the vegetarian something. I say that sounds good, I’ll take that. How big is it, I ask. He says it’s a good portion. My skin is crawling.

I’m not one to complain about service. Keeping your staff bright and cheery and enthusiastic while doing their horrible jobs is hard to do. I know. I managed a Bob Evans. But when you own the god damn place, put a fucking smile on your face. I didn’t feel welcome, I felt like I was intruding.

He disappears into the back and I hear the disheartening and unmistakable sound of a microwave door slamming, then beep beep beep as he warms whatever the fuck I just ordered. I did not hear a sink running, so I’m assuming he didn’t wash his hands, but whatever, I’m eating Indian food. There is supposed to be poop in it.

Despite the microwaving, it’s taking a long time. I’m there for at least 8 minutes, which gives me time to wander about and check out this bodega. The enormous cooler (an ice cream cooler) that makes up the counter is empty but for a steam tray of sport peppers in an oily yellow mix. Otherwise it seems to be used to store large serving spoons. Looks cluttered and dirty, like a yard sale. Empty shelves dominate the place. A six-foot high shelving unit exists to hold two tiny jars of Indian spice. Bare shelves that don’t need to be there. The other giant shelving unit has ONE shelf full of bread. I glide over like a cartoon hobo. Wonderfully soft and intriguing. Apple, pumpkin, sweet potato and wheat. I pick up each loaf and smell them. The apple is irresistible; I hold it like an infant.

The owner returns with my plastic tray, tosses in some of those oily peppers. He takes my money and gives me change out of his wallet. Ha.

He hands me the bag and he wishes me well. There’s a smile! I can’t help but smile back. I feel good about this. The bag is heavy. I’m excited. I’m hopeful.

I’m done with the bad. The good? The fucking food. It’s like the girl who everyone ignored because she had black gums, but when you get those clothes off, the body is a gift from God. You feel good about porking her because you were smart enough to get past the superficial barriers that stopped so many others. Girls like this were the only ones I could ever date in high school and college. They were like factory seconds. Nice sweater, but the sleeves were too long, or there was a big black mark on the side. Is this a metaphor within a metaphor? Jesus.

Anyway, that’s Chundy’s. If you can get past the horrible first impression, there is treasure.

This vegetarian something turns out to be vegetarian curry. Its powerful, humid aroma fills my face. I feel it in my ears; I’m going to smell for days. Perfectly cooked carrots, cauliflower, and broccoli. Not mushy, but not hard. Peas & onions seemed to be almost raw, crunchy, but it worked and added a diverse texture to what can sometimes be brown mush. It could be spicier, but the mustard peppers he added an oily heat that reminded me of giardiniera, but I think they had meat in them. These are strong flavors, but they are somehow getting along, united in a common cause: Getting me back to Chundy’s door.

A salsa of sorts took up one corner of the tray. Fresh tomato chunks, onions, peppers and cilantro. A refreshing, yet spicy contrast to the heavy gravy. Finally, unremarkable yellow rice soaked up any leftover curry sauce.

I licked the bottom of the tray.

I finished my beer, then sliced up the apple bread. Heavy, dense, dessert bread. More like a slice of pie than a slice of bread. I want to make a grilled cheese with it. A grilled sharp cheddar cheese sandwich on apple bread. Wouldn’t that be good? Ah maybe tomorrow. Tonight…I’m full, I’m happy and I think I lost an archenemy.

Thanks for the good review. I go by Chundy's several times a week, and have not once seen them both open and with customers. RAB and I once considered weekend breakfast there. We walked in, looked at the food in steam tables, and walked out. They weren't even cooking their eggs to order. I'm not sure I'm ready to return, though. I generally steer clear of empty restaurants.

Another coffee option close-by and open well before 9am, is the new New Wave on Logan Boulevard just east of Kedzie (right where the summer farmers market is). It's owned by folks who live in the neighborhood and saw a need. It has been consistently full ever since opening (college students, mostly), but there isn't a long wait for to-go drinks. They also have sweets and sandwiches. I believe they serve Metropolis beans. I'm happy they're open and so close to home so that I can avoid both Panera and Starbucks. I'd much rather share my hard-earned $$ with my neighbors.

Ronna

Lookjerk -

If you get past the indifferent-bordering-on-grumpy attitude of the shopkeeps at places like these (if they have great food, that is,) go back as often as you can for the food, and you will probably start seeing the shopkeep crack a smile when you walk in, and start tossing freebies in for you to try. Ask a few questions, make a few suggestions, ask if they will make something you like that you've had elsewhere. I've noticed that in the joints like this (and Chundy's is NOT the only one,) if you take the pro-active approach at trying to make "nicey-nice" then you might start to see the welcoming attitude that the Indian ppl are known for. If the food was that good, then it's well worth trying to be a bit more nicey-nice.

I suspect you know this already.

I've been in several cabbie joints that remind me exactly of your description - walk in, there's a greaseboard with a few options on it. The clerk is sitting at a table, and says nothing at all - remains seated with a gruff kinda look on their face. If the food is good, however, get past the funky service, and I'll bet you'll become fast friends with the people who run the place. I think it must be some kind of cultural thing where the faces that Indian ppl make SEEM to be like "What are you doing in here?" to US, but maybe that is just a normal "face" to them? I hope that doesn't come off as ethnically negative in any way because it was not meant to be. If I find myself in a new cabbie joint where the counterperson is looking at me funny, I just walk up and start asking questions with a big stupid smile on my face, and they seem to warm up to me just fine after that. It can be intimidating because they seem to just have this "I'm not impressed with you" demeanor until you take the initiative. I've grown accustomed to it, and it doesn't irk me anymore- well, actually it does, but you just have to remember that's how it seems to be, and put on your smiley face even though you're getting what appears to be the stink eye.

I wonder if some of the board users who seem to be far more schooled in the realm of Indian food, and perhaps culture, (sazerac, c8w, ucjames?) can explain the apparent indifferent attitude of the counterpeople in these joints? (And it's not ALL of these joints, or ALL of the people.) I'm wondering if it's just a cultural thing where we are perceiving things incorrectly?

Of course, they can just take one look at me and say "sheesh, here comes another fat American jerk."

Lookjerk's review seems destined to be a LTH classic.

seebee wrote:I wonder if some of the board users who seem to be far more schooled in the realm of Indian food, and perhaps culture, (sazerac, c8w, ucjames?) can explain the apparent indifferent attitude of the counterpeople in these joints? (And it's not ALL of these joints, or ALL of the people.) I'm wondering if it's just a cultural thing where we are perceiving things incorrectly?"

I feel like I could write a dissertation on this subject, yet at the same time fear for both my life and the continued stability of my marriage if I were to actually comment at length

In the short and hopefully not life-threatening version, I will say that I don't believe you are perceiving things incorrectly, but that it is indeed a cultural thing (with the all-important disclaimer that as you said, it's not ALL of...). Also, that it doesn't just apply to counterpeople in dining establishments; I can easily think up a number of anecdotal examples in other professions where some customer service/interaction is required.

seebee wrote:

I wonder if some of the board users who seem to be far more schooled in the realm of Indian food, and perhaps culture, (sazerac, c8w, ucjames?) can explain the apparent indifferent attitude of the counterpeople in these joints? (And it's not ALL of these joints, or ALL of the people.) I'm wondering if it's just a cultural thing where we are perceiving things incorrectly?

Of course, they can just take one look at me and say "sheesh, here comes another fat American jerk."

If it's not "ALL of these joints, or ALL of the people" how can it be interpreted to be "just a cultural thing"?

I wouldn't read more into it-- I would conclude that you have encountered random a-holes, plain and simple.

Regarding the "here comes another fat American jerk" comment:

How could you possibly patronize a place where you get that vibe from the proprietor?

cito wrote:If it's not "ALL of these joints, or ALL of the people" how can it be interpreted to be "just a cultural thing"?

I wouldn't read more into it-- I would conclude that you have encountered random a-holes, plain and simple.

I would think that one could rather convincingly argue that the U.S. has a "Fast Food Nation" culture, but such a description would obviously not apply to all Americans - as this board would attest. The existence of those it does not apply to does not make the phenomenon any less of a "cultural thing" in those for whom it is true.

cito wrote:

seebee wrote:

I wonder if some of the board users who seem to be far more schooled in the realm of Indian food, and perhaps culture, (sazerac, c8w, ucjames?) can explain the apparent indifferent attitude of the counterpeople in these joints? (And it's not ALL of these joints, or ALL of the people.) I'm wondering if it's just a cultural thing where we are perceiving things incorrectly?

Of course, they can just take one look at me and say "sheesh, here comes another fat American jerk."

If it's not "ALL of these joints, or ALL of the people" how can it be interpreted to be "just a cultural thing"?

I wouldn't read more into it-- I would conclude that you have encountered random a-holes, plain and simple.

Regarding the "here comes another fat American jerk" comment:

How could you possibly patronize a place where you get that vibe from the proprietor?

I don't think they are a-holes though, because when I get to talking to them, it's clear that they are very nice, welcoming people. It's just the INITIAL greeting that can seem awkward in that they have stern looks on their faces, and do not always greet with a "hello" or other normal salutation until you make the first effort at greeting. Up until you start talking, they look at you like you are gonna try to rob them. I cannot believe that I'm the only one who has encountered this.

GONE.
Hung up The Hat.
Lights Out-
No Ones Home.


There's a handwritten sign on the door, saying-
That's all Folks.