giordano's | where to eat in chicago

You know how you shouldn't go grocery shopping when you're hungry? Well, you probably also shouldn't blog about pizza that stole your heart and hid it in a restaurant in Chicago when you're hungry, either. But, alas, life is short... and hopefully plane tickets to Chicago are cheapcheapcheap by the time I finish writing this.

I don't want to say that I'm a pizza snob, or a foodie - pizza version. But those things may be accurate descriptors. Pizza is absolutely, without a doubt, my favorite food on the planet. I used to say that sort of embarrassed and admit immediately after uttering it that I know it's a kindergartener's favorite food, too. I used to think it meant I had a weak, undeveloped palate. But that's just not true. There isn't much that could be more wrong with that sentiment. Pizza, nay, good pizza, has a depth of flavor - basil and garlic and oregano and lightly seasoned tomato sauce that pop, that dance on your tastebuds. The crust can be light and fluffy, or crisped, wood-oven seared, thick, or, in the case of my work trip to Chicago a few months ago, deep dish.

I'm a pizza traditionalist, although, with the world's most adapted food (we're talking corn as a topping in Japan!), is there such a thing? I mean it in the sense that I prefer Neapolitan-style pizza - thin, crispy, with fresh tomatoes, mozzarella and basil in each bite. That said, I'm also a meat-lover so you'll almost always fine pepperoni and sausage on any slice of mine. (I guess I'm not so much of a traditionalist then, am I? But leave off the corn, please.)

I had my mind expanded for the better when I tried Giordano's Famous Chicago Pizza. Sure, I've had deep dish pizza - the gooey, massive servings at District of Pi in DC were a good introduction. But the real Chicago deal made my mouth water just looking at it. As I picked up a piece, mozzarella oozed off, fresh garlic hit my nose, and - the true test of deep dish success - I couldn't eat more than a single piece. I tried for a second. I put my mind to it, and I only got a bite in before admitting defeat.

I read an article recently about how the love of pizza brought a couple together. It was beautifully written. It got me reminiscing about my travels and just how often I've turned to pizza for a taste of comfort and home - and to experience how a local culture interprets the dish. I mentioned the Japanese style with corn - there's also mayonnaise as a topping. In China, going to a Pizza Hut is a reservations-needed event. In South Africa, I washed my cheese-heavy slices down with a Savannah Dry. And in Chicago, I fell in love with deep dish pizza. If you're ever in the area, order a pie from Gioradano's for me, okay?

Hi, my name is Cyndi, and I'm a pizza addict. What's your favorite slice and style? 

travel tuesday | chicago by nightfall

I was in bed last night in my sparkling clean, new apartment (to me) for the first time, and without internet or cable set up, I spent my last sleepy 40 minutes awake editing the handful of photos I took in Chicago last week. I kept stopping myself, wondering why I was doing it. I only spent 48 hours in The Windy City, and 90% of it was indoors, attending a conference for work. Why would I post the few measly shots I managed to get out in the city on the blog? But I kept editing, knowing I was going to write about it anyway. 

I hear from a lot of people that a trip isn't really "travel" unless they have ample time to take in every sight, sound, exhibit, restaurant, etc. It's not a trip worthy of committing to memory unless we have the time to take it all in. I don't think that's true at all. 

I couldn't tell you much about the city of Chicago. I couldn't tell you the must sees and the must dos, or how to get around to different areas of town. I couldn't tell you the best scenic running route, or what it's like to stand inside Wrigley Field. I don't know what exhibits are on display, and I've never seen a play in the theater district. I've never cheered on "da Bears" or eaten one of those famously messy hot dogs they have there. 

But I've seen Chicago from above the clouds. I know what the horizon looks like, with clouds pillowing and folding and bunching and letting loose right before dipping down into the mesmerizing grid of city lights blurred by rushing wind, high rises, and a snow fall that blankets everything white. 

I know the locals are fast moving in a crowd, their heads lowered, knowing like the back of their hands their routes so they never need to look up and feel the full force of winter on their faces. I can spot other tourists, other first timers to the city: we're the only ones looking up, up, up, at the towering buildings - taking in the sharp angles of the city, the perpendicular lines, the neat placement of it all, like Chicago's city planners were an organized bunch. I know so intimately that 15 degrees in Chicago means -3 with wind chill.

Chicago felt draped in an aura of mystery and pulsing energy that I wanted to keep breathing in, keep being a part of. Chicago felt like Gotham City to me -- probably because, as I just learned, some of The Dark Knight was filmed there. Movies make the unfamiliar familiar sometimes.

We don't need a week or 10 days or any number of days we've arbitrarily decided is the "right" amount of time to feel like we've traveled to a new place. Forty-eight hours is a trip. It's travel. 

Where's your next micro-trip?