There are things in life that are assumed. If a famous chef invites me for a meal, then obviously the only questions are when and where. And when the chef doing the inviting is one who literally put Chicago’s culinary scene on the map, it’s actually hard to remember  that you actually need to say “yes!” when asked.

Thank goodness I had the presence of mind to answer out loud. I still remember my friend Les looking at me in disbelief, eyes wide, grinning. Few invitations in life are quite so exciting.

Adriana disappeared only to return a few minutes later, sparkling wine in hand. Was this really happening? From the expressions on Les and the filmmakers’ faces, we were clearly all wondering the same thing. Adriana knew what was going on, and kindly ushered us into the kitchen. We were to eat at Chef Trotter’s kitchen table–meaning the table in his set or studio kitchen, not the restaurant.

Let’s talk about the lunch guests for a moment. We had Lester and myself from The Peterson Garden Project, and then the film crew from Crosstown Productions. We were joined by close friends of Rochelle Trotter who were at the restaurant for a photo shoot for Today’s Chicago Woman, her stylist and hairdresser.  So we were not only treated to lunch at Trotter’s, we were treated to lunch at Trotter’s with family friends. It was a very big deal.

We sat around the kitchen table–the one you’ve seen in The Kitchen Sessions–and were presented with stories. Food, stories, restaurants and great meals are intertwined in my mind, for many reasons. While eating, I’m immersed in the flavors. In retrospect, the great meals of my life are those that I remember for many reasons. For great food and chefs (the first meal my husband cooked for me, Le Tour d’Argent, Alinea, a tiny unnamed restaurant in Venice) and also for great moments and great company. Chef Trotter didn’t know it when he invited me to this incredible lunch, but he was the chef for two of my life’s great moments. The birthday dinner for my Father, Aunt and I (the 30/50/6o dinner, one of the last when my Dad and Aunt spoke to one another) and also my engagement dinner, in which my husband and our dear friends Anthony, Michelle, my stepmum Katerina and Aunt Jan dined at the kitchen table at Trotter’s. That’s the meal where I first smelled Gewurztraminer. Moments like that you remember.

The food was delicious, spectacular even. But the things I remember most are the conversations with friends, stories from the chefs, ideas behind the meals. With lunch at Trotter’s, I remember the hospitality of Chef Trotter and Rochelle, and their stories. Rochelle spoke of growing up on a farm, and not understanding what pickles were the first time she tasted the industrial version. She had only ever tasted her grandmother’s pickles, and they just didn’t seem the same food as those that came from cans in a supermarket. I also remember Chef Trotter’s pride as his sous chefs presented their dishes, one after another, all of which highlighted another locally grown ingredient–each offering their favorite. And throughout the meal, our sommelier was omnipresent, offering pairing advice. He never steered us wrong.

And so now, a year later–what do I remember? Chef Trotter and Rochelle, Mattias and Adriana, and the absolutely unforgettable moment: “Chef Trotter wonders if you have time for lunch?” Don’t you hope to hear that question one day?

We were lucky to forge a partnership with Crosstown Productions and The Tribeca Flashpoint Media Academy, and now we’re working on our film. The idea is to create a movie that tells the story of Victory Gardens in Chicago–historic and contemporary–to convince people that they’re well worth the effort. To do it, we’re doing a series of interviews with well-known gardeners, civic leaders & chefs. Since I’m a professed foodie, I’d like to begin by talking about the chefs.

When I first started brainstorming with one of the film’s creators, Peter Hawley, our list of dream-chef-interviews was short, and easy to craft. If you want to talk to chefs in Chicago, you start with Charlie Trotter. And you jump to our local champions of the farm-to-table movement, Rick Bayless and Paul Kahan. I’m delighted to say that all three have agreed to be filmed for the documentary.

We began with Chef Trotter. It’s safe to say that we were all extremely nervous to enter his restaurant. It was our first interview, and he is a renowned perfectionist. We felt the pressure. Chef Trotter’s assistant, Adriana, was grace personified. She did her best to put us at ease–but we were a little too excited to take this event lightly. Our film crew prepped camera angles, lighting, sound… and when we were just about set, discovered that something or another broke. I’m not even sure what it was. Suffice it to say that there was a frantic e-mail sent to someone back at their studio, who dutifully bolted to the restaurant with the replacement component. We were ready, and Chef Trotter was eager to talk.

And the interview was simply fantastic. It was clear that he’d carefully thought about the questions we offered in advance. He quickly told stories of how he gardened growing up, and what that meant to him as a person, before he knew he’d become a chef. He further recanted a history of trends in fine dining, from the 1980′s to the present. He noted that in the ’80s, chefs sought exotic ingredients. It was the beginning of globalization when it came to food, and getting exotic ingredients–regardless of their quality–was the trend. Today, that’s changed. Chefs are far more concerned with serving local foods, perfectly ripened, ready to eat. Ingredients are where it’s at, and that’s where gardening helps everyday people prepare the most delicious meals for their families. Honestly, if we’d prepped a script for Chef Trotter, it couldn’t have been as perfectly suited to our mission than what his words actually were. When we wrapped, we were elated. What could make a better day?

Well, we were about to discover just that.

Chef Trotter thanked the full team, then asked Adriana to follow him into his kitchen. She emerged a few moments later with a single question: “Chef Trotter wonders if you might have time to stay for lunch?”

Take a moment to imagine what is running through our heads at this point. And just imagine what it must have been to be Adriana, watching our faces as we digested this question. Then think about the employee of the production company whose only role was to bring the infamous broken component to the restaurant. Talk about a lucky guy!

We had time for lunch. Oh yes we did. And that’s the story I’ll tell on my next blog post.

Borage in bloom

I decided it was high time to post photos of my progress in my own back yard. This is my first year doing raised bed gardens, and just two months into the growing season, I’m continuously eyeballing my yard, deterining where I’ll build more next year. 

I’ve had some interesting discoveries. 

First, I think the vegetable gardens are gorgeous. I balked at planting vegetables in my back yard when we first bought our house, because I didn’t think they would be pretty. It’s incredibly ironic in retrospect. My back yard has never looked as good as it does now. 

We have a very small yard, typical of a Chicago Bungalow. My husband built two raised beds, one along our house, and one along our garage. There’s no doubt that the vegetables there are growing more quickly than those in the yard. They’re thriving. The only down side so far is the illustrious dog vomit slime mold (yes, that’s its real name) that the mulch around one of the beds created. But really, the beds shouldn’t be blamed for the mulch, should they? 

In the ground, I still love perennials.  I’m working on ways to weave in both edibles, like the borage in the top photo above, with monarda, coneflower, artichokes,  terragon (I have a monster-sized plant), chives and thyme. Next year, I’ll toss leeks and garlic in , too. I’m learning that when I add a few strategic zinnia, the whole bed lights up. I don’t have it perfected yet, but it is starting to look good. I can’ t wait until next year, when the monarda is tall, the iris I transplanted bloom again, and I have one full year of experimenting in that bed under my belt. I know it’s going to be gorgeous. 

The concrete patio we inherited from the previous owners still demands that I have lots of terra cotta pots to camoflauge the concrete. I used some of the large, two-foot-tall pots to plant full-sized carrots. That’s been a great success, and I really wish I’d planted more. I also have mint, rosemary, thyme and lemon verbena in pots. My logic is that they make the seating area smell great when we’re sitting out at night, and that’s absolutely proven true. I’ve also discovered that I love munching on the chocolate mint any time I’m within arm’s reach of the plant! Having spent hours considering where to add more pots, it finally occurred to me that I can plant a new raised bed on top of the patio itself. That’s the beauty of raised beds: you can put them on top of just about everything. They cover a multitude of landscaping sins–like gratuitous amounts of concrete! 

With this success comes an unquenched desire for more. I still want to find a way to make the conduit trellis more aesthetically pleasing. Of course it looks great once covered in beans, cucumbers and tomatillos, but when it’s exposed? It’s just ugly. 

Raised bed along my house

I’m also searching for more ways to plant vertically. I’m scoping out some iron terra cotta plant holders, so that I can have potted herbs hanging outside my back door. I’d also like to add window boxes for more herbs and lettuces. My logic is that it will keep them away from any potential rabbits, and they’d be easy to grab from the windows outside my kitchen. 

Gardening is an addiction. Once you’re in, you can never get enough. 

My oh-so-pruned tomatoes. They're flamingo-esque.

My sweet millions... so close!

Chocolate mint, spearmint, coleus

Carrots undercover

Big picture, little plant

I was sitting at The Peterson Garden Project one day with my friend, Xan. We were tired, understandably. It was June 6th, a month ago. We were thick in the midst of dealing with logistic challenges to getting the garden going–compost for our beds was repeatedly delayed. The fence was repeatedly broken, then repaired, then broken, then repaired. We weren’t sure how long it would take to build the 140 raised beds that we needed to create gardens for our initial gardeners.     

So we sat, tired, under a beat-up tent that had been partially destroyed by the latest compost delivery. LaManda, the garden’s founder, had been teaching classes on planting earlier in the day. Because it was raining, she’d used a pan, some dirt, and miscellaneous seeds and seedlings to demonstrate basic planting techniques to a dozen or so new gardeners–we like to call them “grewbies”–underneath the dilapidated tent.  

So Xan and I sat, talking, about what we were doing with the garden, and in a flash, she said the words that encapsulated all our efforts, intentions, and wishes. She said, “It’s not a garden. It’s a revolution.” And in true Xan style, she followed that up with, “We’ve got to find a pen and write that down! That’s it, but my memory is crap. I’ll forget it. Where’s a pen?”     

I found a pen. She wrote it down. And we may as well have chiseled it in stone: The Peterson Garden Project IS a revolution. It’s a revolution in gardening, in community, in food and hopefully soon, in eating, too.     

140 boxes awaiting compost

Two months in, we are well on our way. We’ve broken ground, built the garden, built 140 raised beds. Then, we built 17 more because we had room and there was demand. We’ve held a fabulous Re-Dedication Party; I’ll write about that soon. It’s all been part of making a community garden, which is simple enough. But I do think we’re part of a much larger movement, and I couldn’t be happier to be a part of it.     

I’ve always been looking for a great revolution. Finally, I’ve found it. 

The Peterson Garden Project has rapidly come to  life. The interesting thing is: we haven’t even planted yet. So what’s going on?        

I joined the project for a few reasons. I love fresh food, and want to learn to grow my own. Plus the benefits of growing food locally have a significant impact on a city’s sustainable development, and that’s important to me. I also love gardening—it’s swiftly becoming my favorite hobby.        

What I didn’t see coming was the incredible community impact of the garden.     
While helping to plan and promote the project, I’ve met an amazing group of people, all drawn to the community garden project for different reasons. From LaManda, the project’s founder, I’ve learned about Chicago’s Victory Garden legacy. But more importantly: I’ve seen the catalytic affect her inspiration and leadership have on a project. This isn’t just a garden for LaManda: it’s a life mission. And she’s looking for accomplices.        

From there, the cast of gardeners grows. From the young dancer who has a passion for baking pastries, to the ice-skating grant-writer looking to share her incredible knowledge of growing and cooking food, this garden is bringing people together.        

Entrepreneurs. Artists. People looking for a new career path—they’re all here. And: they’re mainly my neighbors. I had the pleasure of meeting John and Eileen, who have lived in my neighborhood—Arcadia Terrace, for the record—for 50 years. They’ve never grown vegetables before, but when they got the flyer for the Peterson Garden Project, they figured: why not?     
It’s never too late to learn to grow your own vegetables. And it’s not too late to plant them this year, either. Come on over and join in on the fun; volunteers are always welcome at The Peterson Garden Project.  

Alderman O'Connor surveys the site

I’m delighted to say that these images of The Peterson Garden Project are already outdated. I took these last Friday, at groundbreaking. They’re now a visual record of just how much our band of volunteers has accomplished in a very short time. 

The site, primed for transformation

My goal for Memorial Day this year? To plant heirloom seeds in a reborn Victory Garden. 

Neighbors gather, in anticipation of planting

We begin!

Today, community gardening is once again gaining momentum, but for different reasons. Personally, I became interested in urban gardening for two reasons. First, because I like the flavor of fresh, organic vegetables. And second, because I am looking for ways to contribute to a more sustainable future for my city. Turns out, there are lots of people doing the very same thing… in my own neighborhood.

This weekend, I was introduced to the Peterson Garden Project. It’s a local effort led by one of my neighbors, a blogger who writes at The Yarden. She began doing research on Chicago Victory Gardens, and decided it was high time to revive the tradition. So: she found a site, talked to Alderman O’Connor, rallied her troops, and… voila! A reborn Victory Garden breaks ground this Friday, May 21 at 11 a.m.

My plan for my plot at the Peterson Community Garden

Naturally: I had to be a part of it. So here’s my plan for what will be my first foray into community gardening. Now that my own square foot garden is firmly in place in my own back yard, I’ll use the community garden space for a few things. First, to meet my neighbors. Second, to learn about gardening from people who know a heck of a lot more about it than I do. And finally, to grow some unusual veggies to share with my friends. If you’re hungry & willing to help me weed a little now and again, come on out to the garden and dig in!

Chef Katsu at work

Last night, Chef Katsu was garnishing all the nigiri with daikon leaves. I didn’t realize they were so minty. My son loved it, and immediately asked if we can grow daikon in our garden. That’s my research project for the day. Here’s a closer look at that sushi platter, which Chef Katsu garnished with flecks of gold.

Sushi platter at Katsu

Box Number One, at the back of my house. Square foot garden #2, along my garage, on top of the sidewalk.

At long last, after many weeks of toil, construction, dirt-mixing and planting, here are my raised bed gardens. It’s official: I am an urban farmer. 

The second square foot garden, along my garage, on top of a sidewalk.

I’ve faced a few surprises. First, mixing a bunch of dirt is hard, in terms of the physical effort. Don’t let the books fool you. And then, the agonizing part: waiting for seeds to sprout. In my case, the subject of much staring, worrying, and even blaming wonton, seed-eating birds has been the situation with my peas. I planted eight. I have two sprouts. 

When do I give up and plant a few more? What’s the right timeframe? How do I fend off the marauding robins and squirrels who are the likely culprits of my struggling pea crop? I’ll be thinking about all of this for a few more days. 

Two peas sprouting in a square. Where are the other two?

The lettuce, on the other hand, is marching on. Don’t know what’s going on with the head lettuce, but the leaf lettuce is a great source of hope for me. 

Lettuce sprouting!

SCHWA
Schwa is Chicago eating personified: daring, avant-garde, gritty, delicious, urban. There is no front-of-house staff here; the chefs serve every dish themselves. It’s a tiny restaurant in a nondescript location. And yet, Chef Michael Carlson’s food has been well-documented. My favorite article is one that appeared in GQ, that chronicles his struggle with the stress of becoming a truly great chef. Many have photographed their meals at Schwa; my friend Anthony has some of the best photos here. I’ve eaten here many times, and my favorite dish among mighty contenders is a simple quail’s egg ravioli in brown butter. The food ranges from the unexpected (road kill—you have to see it to get it) to the sublime (Hendrick’s Gin deconstructed, one of my favorite appetizers). Reservations are nearly impossible to get, but well worth the effort, and this is a BYO restaurant. Call to inquire about the menu & match your wines to your meal.

HEMAS KITCHEN
Guess what? Hema’s Kitchen really is Hema’s kitchen. Hema is a delightful woman who serves delicious food. She has two locations now: one on Devon, the heart of the Indian community in Chicago, and one in Lincoln Park. There are moments when nothing but Hema’s Sag Paneer will satisfy my cravings for spicy food. My personal favorites on the menu are the Sag Paneer, Chicken Tikka Masala, and Bindhi Masala. I think this is one of the best take-out spots around, although you can eat there, too.

SMOQUE
This is hands-down the best barbeque in Chicago. It is to die for. It’s southeastern barbeque, vinegar-based, and true to its name it is indeed quite smoky. I can’t bring myself to order anything but the pulled pork because I just love it that much. All the side dishes here are scrumptious, too; I particularly like their cole slaw. It’s a crowded, busy place, but worth the wait in line.

DOUBLE LI
(see full details on earlier blog post below)
Since I recently wrote about this restaurant at length, I won’t say more. This is the best Chinese restaurant in Chicago, and it’s sited in the heart of Chicago’s Chinatown on Cermak. Simply great food, at great prices. This is another BYO restaurant.

MOTO
I am a self-professed foodie who grew up loving the Jetsons, so I was destined to adore Moto. Your dishes here may be freeze-dried, or dehydrated, or smoking because they’ve been freeze-dried and then dropped into hot liquid. You will eat things that don’t seem to make any sense. And you will reel from how delicious each and every bite is. Chef Homaru Cantu’s experiments in molecular gastronomy are sure to delight any foodie, and may put off people who are not interested in taking a few risks. The cocktails here equal the menu in their innovative nature and delicious flavor. And as an added bonus: chef Cantu is a genuinely nice guy, who loves food, and thrives on taking risks. What’s not to love?

KATSU
I am a sushi lover, and have eaten at all the hot sushi restaurants in the city. Katsu is not trendy, nor particularly hot. It’s just the best sushi in Chicago. The fish is delicious, and the chef is outstanding. My son nearly bankrupts me each time we eat here; he cannot get enough of their nigiri. If you too love sushi, you should make the trek to Katsu. You’ll be delighted.

SOL DE MEXICO
I am a big fan of Rick Bayless, and am enormously grateful to him for educating a cadre of Mexican-born chefs in the art of running a restaurant. While I love Chef Bayless’ food, I hate how trendy and popular his restaurants have become. I seek out the restaurants that his colleagues open, and I’ve found them unfailingly delicious. Sol de Mexico is one such restaurant, and chef Clementina Flores (Bayless’ one-time nanny, believe it or not) serves some of the best Mexican food in the city. All the dishes here are exquisite, and once again, make it worth the trek to the far west side of the city.

PUBLICAN
My husband proposed to me at one of Paul Kahan’s restaurants, Blackbird, so his restaurant ventures always have special significance for us. When we ran into Paul a few years ago, he told us he was about to open a new place, which he described as “a shrine to the trifecta of beer, oysters and pork.” He had us at “pork.” The restaurant became Publican, and we do indeed love it. We particularly love sitting in the section of Michael, their beer sommelier, who has introduced us to some particularly divine food and beer pairings. This is not light food, but it is indeed delicious food. If you love the trifecta, you should go.

GREAT LAKE
The only bad thing about Great Lake is that the food critic for Esquire Magazine recently named it the best pizza in the country. Combine that with the fact that it’s a pizza joint that probably seats 20, and you have a traffic problem. The thing is: the critic was right. Our favorite was the Taleggio mushroom, but a close second (with mouth-watering ingredients) was the smoked bacon, crème fraiche, onion & chive. The owners are a husband-and-wife team, one of whom was an architect who worked with our good friend, Joe. So we found the service absolutely delightful—how could we not? Others complain that it isn’t attentive. I think they’re missing the point. This place is all about one thing: damn fine pizza. Go there if that’s what you desire.

UNCOMMON GROUND

My reason for loving Uncommon Ground right now is not their delicious food. Don’t get me wrong: the food is indeed delicious. But the reason it’s one of my favorites now is that they are on the cutting-edge of urban farming. At their Devon location, they grow their own produce on the roof of the restaurant. And on weekends, they host a farmer’s market. That’s the kind of food culture I’d like to see fostered in this city, and my hat is off to Uncommon Ground for getting it going. As an added bonus, it’s one of my very favorite breakfast/brunch/lunch spots in the city. Their stout potato soup is just spectacular, too.