Uhh... in other bakery . . . news... (cringe)

Hey everyone,

I know this will fall well short of Antonius Melville's recent "Masi Dick", but thought I'd pass along a little discovery of my own on the bakery front.

The other morning, after partying all night and then (still wired and wide awake at sunrise.... no comment) trying to get some creative work done, I looked up and noticed it was about 7:30. Well, shoot, might as well get some errands done! Afternoon naps are my favorite anyway. So - off to the bank, the dry cleaners, top off the old gas tank while I'm at it, oil's looking semi-clear and up to the top, tire pressure's a-ok, Hey Mrs. Johnson, your peach pies smell terrific! Tell Timmy I'll show him the ol' curveball after Sunday School! Ok, then! Yep, just another great Saturday morning in the happy little burg we call Chee-cahhgo. Thought I'd finish up this little round of necessities with some personal care; happy-go-lucky and whistling a gay little tune ("Night and Day", I believe) I made my way over to the barbershop for a trim and a visit with Franco, my Clark Street consigliere on all matters tonsorial and the simple vita dolce of a working man who does one thing and does it damn well. (Non-food endorsement - Franco's Hair Styling Shop, 2544 N Clark, since 1966. A tradition of good service, haircuts, and friendship. "You're always welcome." According to the gift calendar from Franco's which sits on my desk, Feb. 27th is Longfellow's birthday (1807)... must be something poetic in the air. ANYWAY....) I get to Franco's (and find parking on Clark directly in front of the shop... gotta love Saturday mornings) about 1/2 hour before he opens, and find that my buzz is rapidly wearing off. If I am indeed to make it through this haircut, much less the ride home, I need coffee. Of course, this being Lincoln Park/Lakeview, I take two stones, throw them in opposite directions, and, yes, sure enough, one of them hits a Starbucks (which happens to be located under a porch which looks... oh, never mind.) As I approach the Green Monster (a mere 100 feet or so from Franco's), the distinctly Teutonic, red and white square checks so representative of Austria jump into my field of vision, followed by the words, "Oesterreichische Baeckerei." (Though with umlauts in their proper places). A Scooby-Doo like "Ehhr?" audibly emits from my mouth as I slowly scan the front windows of this heretofore unknown establishment, finally making my way to the front door. One step inside the warm, woody yet modern room, and one deep inhalation later, I am back in central Europe. Fresh breads, pastries, coffee on the brew, a case of Boar's Head and imported cold cuts stare out at me and dance a little jig in the part of the medulla oblongata which controls sense memory and appetite. Eyebrows raised, mouth open, I must have looked like an outpatient to the owner who, regardless of my condition, greeted me with a friendly "good morning!" as he came around the counter to retrieve the fresh coffee from the brewer and put it in the carafe. Sensing an actual Austrian in front of me, I kick into German gear and start rapping with the man. I soon find out that he is Herr Michael Mikusch, certifed Master Baker (diploma hanging proudly on the wall) from the Steiermark region (near the city of Graz) of Austria. Having earned his stripes in the old country and then taking his lumps for five years in Manhattan, Herr Mikusch was finally able to open his own business in Chicago a few months ago. He tells me that if I choose to have something to eat in the shop, the coffee is free. Seeing the Illy logo, I was well prepared to drop a couple of clams on a cuppa joe. This only made an already sealed deal sweeter. The almond croissant I chose from the case had the proper tender, buttery, textured and resilient qualities one seeks in such a product; none of this flaky, crusty, exploding-into-crumbs item one gets so often from corporate or chain bakeries. The mellow, rich almond filling was smooth, not grainy, and nutty and sweet. Perfect foil for the simple, full, round-tasting (and free) coffee. Starwho? Whatbucks? As I polished off the croissant and went outside to enjoy a fine Treasurer cigarette with the remainder of my coffee, I counted (and had to internally chide and cackle at) no fewer than 15 people make their way in and out of Starbuck's in about 5 minutes time. Luckily, Herr Mikusch has already developed a discerning and loyal clientele; I just happened to arrive 15 minuted before them. Before I know it, there are customers six across and two deep at the bakery counter, clamoring for bread, Sacher Torte, a special order birthday cake, cold cuts, pretzels, rolls, and whatever else Michael and his two lovely, Slavic assistants can wrap up and cash out. Finally, the storm dies down, and I have a chance to leisurely pick out a nice wholegrain bread, some pretzel rolls, Sacher Torte and cinnamon buns, and get a pound of Boar's Head smoked turkey breast (in perfectly uniform and paper thin slices, too, a la Meyer Delicatessen). I bid the Masterbaker and his two assistants (Olga and Christina) farewell, and make my way to Franco for my cut and commiseration. Later that day, after a sleep filled with uneasy dreams, I wake dazed and starving. Suffice it to say: turkey sandwich on toasted whole grain bread followed with Sacher Torte and glass of milk. The restorative powers of food baked by the hands of a simple yet highly skilled artisan, combined with rest and reflection, should never be underestimated. Especially in this day and age, when such powers are most in need. Guten Appetit.

Austrian Bakery and Deli
2523 N Clark St.
(773) 244-9922

http://www.austrianbakery.com

Rebbe:

Many thanks for the informative and entertaining post. I'm looking forward to visiting this place, no matter how upset that will make my Prussian ancestors.

Any more info on the styles of bread offered?

The restorative powers of food baked by the hands of a simple yet highly skilled artisan, combined with rest and reflection, should never be underestimated. Especially in this day and age, when such powers are most in need.

Well put.

Guten Appetit.
Antonius

A, you really started something. It's interesting. Until a few years ago when your Red Hens and your Fox & Obels and whatnots started appearing, a common question was asked about the lack of good bread in Chicago. This, I am learning, is akin to the silly observation that there was no charcuterie in Chicago before Avec.

Another reason to visit Westbrook Market, #212, is that for some reason they seem to stock whatever bakery products any ethnic baker is willing to deliver (Italian especially, but also Baltic and Polish, less so Filipino and Mexican where only a couple of brands are on the shelf.)

So, you end up with in some cases four or five brands of essentially the same style of bread. This is especially so for Italian, where most of the larger brands are represented, but also the Caputo brand, Bella Romana, and, better yet, obscure-to-me brands such as Michele Baking of Franklin Park and Liborio or River Grove. The former makes a dense, smooth, flattish loaf that is almost like poundcake, perfect for toast. The latter makes a long loaf of "French," that to me is very Cuban like. Freshness varies, but something good is usually on hand. Not surprisingly, the bigger commercial brands don't stack up too well side by side.

I know zip about eith one of the aforementioned bakeries, BTW. Any insights out there?

http://www.liboriobaking.com/

I happened to try that place too the other day, although my initial suspicion was that the accent of the salesgirl was Polish and they were just puttin' on a more upscale nationality. Guess not. Anyway, had a perfectly pleasant, if not quite dance-in-the-street, pain au chocolat (whatever that is in Australian), and was pleased to note that something not totally artificial and wretched had actually penetrated the Lincoln Park anti-food defense shields.

Which brings me to my other point, a place I've been meaning to mention for so long that they've had time to change names in the interim. It's a little creperie up Clark street, adjacent to a parking garage; my impression is that something of that sort has been there forever but the inside strongly suggests a recent redo, new owners, something. It's Algerian, and the name used to be Icosium Kafe, but it is now just something like "La Creperie and Bagelteria." Shared a very decent, not too overpriced banana and Nutella crepe with my son a while back, then had more recently a savory one for lunch with pine nuts, yellow peppers, this and that that was very nice. Anyway, in an area with few good choices, it is one of the few and the folks seemed quite nice.

Icosium Kafe, now something else
2433 N. Clark
773 404 1300

P.S. Tony C has supplied the real name here in this crepe thread: Crepe and Coffee Palace.

Any more info on the styles of bread offered?

In addition to a couple of types of rolls and different shapes of pretzels, the Meisterbaecker had several kinds of large, round loaves on the racks, including a wholegrain (the kind with the hunks of grain in it) a "graubrot" (sort of a rye, but heartier and tastier - my personal fave from my days in Germany) whole wheat (no hunks of grain) and what looked like various ryes, pumpernickels, and sourdoughs, all in the fat, oblong shape of good, traditional rustic German/Austrian bread. I failed to notice if he had regular baguettes or French loaves (sorry, I was slightly distracted... heh heh) but, if he does make them, I've no doubt that they are at the same high level of his German style breads. Any of these would be a fine choice to slice up and use as a foundation for some nice Boar's head cold cuts or have on the side of a hearty German/Austrian Meal. Frankly, I'm looking forward to getting some bread from the Meisterbaecker, cold cuts from Meyer, and a good black tea from... well, somewhere good (Intelligentsia?) to recreate my breakfast from the house in Duesseldorf I lived in during Summer of 96. No matter what, my gracious host, the matriarch of the Butterwege family, would have without fail a spread laid out at 7 every morning before my roomates and I (Victor from Hungary and Umut from Istanbul) made our way to school: 3 types of bread (including my cherished graubrot), butter (European - ie, higher butterfat) cold cuts of all stripes (ham, mortadella, salami, mild and sharp cheeses) hot black tea, multi-vitamin juice (Punica, the Juicy Juice of the Fatherland) hard boiled eggs, and fresh plums, apples, grapes, and bananas. It made getting mauled by their family dog every day almost worth it.

Frau Butterwege: "du musst sie streichen, einfach so...!"
(you just have to pet her, just like this!)

That mutt had a thing for me like you wouldn't believe. I guess the concept of collective guilt got lost on the German canine population. Anti-semitic hound....

Reb

Reb:

Thanks for the additional information. The Graubrot sighting is big news for me. As for you in Germany, this sort of bread was my favourite local type when I lived in Flanders (in Dutch the name is grijsbrood).

The sort of breakfast you refer to was the topic of revery on my part and less positive feelings on the part of a fellow LTHer back in this thread last summer.

Jro

Alle Nerven exzitiert von dem gewürzten Wein -- Anwandlung von Todesahndungen -- Doppeltgänger --
- aus dem Tagebuch E.T.A. Hoffmanns, 6. Januar 1804.
________
Na sir is na seachain an cath.