Boat Tours & Deep Dish (Chicago, Monday, April 5, 2010)

Another late morning wake-up after an evening with a school friend of Tess', and then Cara's late-night arrival from St. Louis (which is in Missouri!).

Lunch time. After a frantic race against the clock to drop the rental car--bye bye, big hunk of metal--at Midway airport, we rush into the heart of city to meet another one of Tess' friends for the architectural boat tour.

We took in the Sears Tower (now Willis), what used to be the tallest building in the world, but whose record has fallen first to the Petronas Twin Towers (in Malaysia) and Taipei 101 (weee--AZNs!),

If you can see the wee bump on the left hand side of the building, it's the glass skydeck. From below, you can see tiny flashes blinking as sightseers photograph the view from 103 floors up.

...Marina City (first multi-use residential building that I christened the corn-cob buildings),



...Lake-point Tower (purportedly an execution of a design by Mies van der Rohe by two dudes who once studied with him, and only made possible by later innovations in architecture/engineering):



The other ladies were much more impressed than I was. The docent (or whatever) just seemed to be on some kind of Micro Machines, methamphetamine kick:

"This was built in the International-style-Deco-Greco-Chicago-School-Prairie-School-Kohn-Pederson-&-Fox-Bertrand-Goldberg-blah-blah-blah-if-it-doesn't-say-Micro-machines-it's-not-the-real-thing!"

The highlight of the day: the BLT and caprese sandwiches...and...the Bean (actually a sculpture entitled "Cloud Gate") in Millennium Park. Who would have thunk? A giant, shiny lima bean shaped object?

The thing is part fun-house mirror, and on a clear Chicago spring afternoon, there are just as many grownups gamboling under and around it as kids.

Like so:



I think what's interesting about the sculpture is that it manages to be so light and airy, despite its size and mass (110 tons). The way the Chicago skyline sweeps across its surface--you see it in a new way...I mean, I suppose it's analogous to throwing a mirror in a small room to make it appear larger, so no huge feat of trickery, but captivating nevertheless.

Past this and Gehry's Jay Pritzker Pavilion and then another interactive sculpturel the Crown Fountain--two glass brick structures facing (literally--aah!) each other, with videos of faces alternating on the inside walls:


Crown Fountain--or, "How To Recognize a Sex Offender"

Water spouts out of the mouths on temperate days, in addition to cascading down the two towers. Alas, spring in Chicago...

Then to DePaul U to wait on Cara's lil sis at the Bourgeois Pig, a cafe (proudly???) emblazoned with a sign designating it a $40 a Day, Rachael Ray location. Urgh. Have a too-sweet mango Italian soda, to tide me over 'til we decide to head to dinner for deep dish.

Giordano's is touted as one of the Chicago-style pizza triumvirate (although contenders can vary). I'm dropped off to get us a table, and sign in as "Esmeralda" because the place is hoppin' (I figure the less common the name, the less likely there'll be another motherfucker with the same name)--and sadly, a sort of Disney Store of Pizza, all outta-towners who've been dicking around the Magnificent Mile. The ladies make do during our hour-long wait with Hefeweizen (312) and amber (Honker's Ale, named after/brewed on Goose Island, a man-made island on the Chicago River). I'm an amber girl myself, but as alcohol seems to disagree with me now, I guzzle an Arnold Palmer. I know, lame-balls.

First, a garden salad that four women hoover: the usual peperoncinis, olives, carrots, tomatoes, black olives, cucumbers, in a vinegar oil dressing.

Then, the piece de resistance: sausage, green pepper, onions, and mushrooms.

And, not to be one of those annoying, "nothing's ever good enough food bloggers," but it's JUST. NOT. THAT. GOOD.

I'm just not that into you, Giordano's. I get the casserole-cum-pizza thing--the Bay Area does it really well (see, Zachary's, and even more succesfully, Little Star), and Giordano's primary failing is the lack of attention to the crust. Texturally disappointing (leaden and under-cooked dough) and bland. (Also, unspectacular toppings.)

So how does Giordano's get away with this and continue to attract the hordes? I think it's the hour long wait. By the time you're seated and presented with that turgid, cheesy, lumpen disk, you're too dizzy with hunger to discern whether what you're putting in your mouth is actually tasty or tasty because by this point you're so famished you could rip open someone's throat and eat their trachea and call it delicious.


Eh.