Normally, Tuesday night dinners settle a need. This otherwise mundane weeknight offered something special. Talk about finances can be dreary, draining; nourishment must be sought. During the banal discourse, my father and I decided to experiment with a neighborhood restaurant that has received little acknowledgement in this forum.
TWO restaurant resides in a microcosmic relic of Chicago's Near West Side Italy. An elegant shadow was cast over the space by the formally brilliant May Street Market (before it fettered into a cost-cutting shell of its supernova). Still, the innocuous newcomer has given a much needed dignity to the former destination spot.
Testa of porchetta was fine. Mussels adequately scratched an itch. Two dishes were remarkable and beckoned a return visit. Yet an unassuming pork chop on a pillow of mashed potatoes captivated our attention in a vacuum.
Sure, the house-made pork sausage with onions, roasted red peppers and cherry tomatoes stroked a level of comfort with any natural-born Chicagoan. The housemade duck egg pasta, perfectly al dente and improved by crispy flecks of duck cracklin', reached to a high-level of comfort food. But this simple pork chop surpassed a level one could reasonably anticipate when ordering a concept considered the pinnacle of fine dining in 1990.
I'd kill for this pork chop. And, assuming that Illinois specifically repealed its moratorium on capital punishment specifically for my hypothetical savagery, I'd order this exact same pork chop for my last meal. Marbled like your finest ribeye, smokey and tender like the sweetest ham hock: this is a superior pork product. The combination of sweet rich fat combined with the smoke imbued within before its finished on the grill challenges the diner to re-evaluate his/her understanding of what pork actually tastes like. Two components that normally the Chicago food cognoscenti wouldn't even consider took my world by storm by its lack or pretension and sheer ass kickery. The finest example of a pork chop I have ever come across...