After the hotel concierge dashing our
dreams of a barbecue –style restaurant where we might feast like Two Men Versus
Food (she curtly intoned there weren’t any in central Chicago), she sent
us to the next best thing.
Jake Melnick’s is a no-nonsense sports bar
serving up gargantuan baskets of fried stuff, and great glasses of that crisp,
light American lager.
As we’d flown in from New York City that
morning, we were up for a food challenge and kicked things off with their
deep-fried pickles, and a basket of hot wings – voted best in Chicago and victors
of the annual Chicago hot wing competition (which surely merits a return trip
even if nothing else had grabbed our fancy all trip).
When our main course came – pulled pork
sandwich and pulled pork platter – we groaned, sacrificed our remaining beer for fear
it would take up useful room in the stomach for delicious meat and weighed in.
We were defeated, and muttered profuse
apologies as the waiter took away our still-heavy plates, as if we’d insulted
his own child in the school play.
For cheap, commonsense American bar food,
I’d recommend this warm and inviting place – but be prepared to eat your
country proud, where we certainly failed.
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