We are now in DeKalb, IL
We seem to be heading West.
Italian and Polish immigrants play an important part of the history of Chicago, but they’ve also played an important part in our family. My great grandparents on my dad’s side came over from Italy. My great grandparents on my mom’s side came from Poland. After a visit with my two grandmas, My sister and I decided we should celebrate our Italian and Polish roots with sausage.
We started in on Taylor street in Little Italy, a neighborhood that had once been the biggest Italian neighborhoods in Chicago, and also where our grandmother grew up.
We had lunch at Rosebud, one of Chicago’s most famous and oldest Italian restaurants.
The Italian sausage was super good and tasted pretty close to what our grandmother used to make us.
The dish of parmesan cheese didn’t stand a chance against a parm lover like me.
Then it was time for espresso at an Italian coffee shop. Starbucks is good, but espresso at a coffee shop in Chicago’s Little Italy is divine.
We also checked out some Italian grocery shops in the neighborhood.
Then it was off to a Polish neighborhood. My other grandmother grew up in a Polish neighborhood on the South side of Chicago. This neighborhood is no longer Polish. My grandparents raised my mom, aunt and uncle in a different Polish neighborhood on the south side of Chicago. But, traffic was bad and Chicago is big. I didn’t want to make my sister drive all the way to the south side, so instead we checked out the Polish neighborhood on Milwaukee Ave.
The advertisements of the meat in the side window was a bit off putting.
But, once inside we checked out every kind of sausage. It seemed like all the food came directly from Poland. Everything was in Polish, even the bottled water and Barbie cake mix.
I had no idea how many kinds of Polish sausage there are.
Unfortunately, the weather outside was freezing, so we had to eat our pierogies and Polish sausage in the car. The sausage was great. The pierogies were good, but my grandma makes better ones.
By the end of the day we really didn’t know anything more about our heritage from our sausage quests. But, both sets of grandparents have taught us a lot about our heritage throughout the years. So, really this was just an excuse to hang out together.
Jeff has been sick with bronchitis for the last two weeks. He’s been lying low so we haven’t ventured into downtown Chicago yet. But, I was able to drag my sick husband over to Devon Avenue for what is as close as I think you can get to India in Chicago. Devon Avenue is a long mutli block corridor of Indian restaurants, sari shops, Indian video stores and grocery stores.
First we ate some of the most amazing Indian food we’ve had in a long long time.
After dinner, I walked up and down the street, peeking into sari stores and peeking into all kinds of cool shops.
Poor Jeff had to wait in the car with the heat on, but I didn’t let a little thing like a husband with a lung infection stop me from looking around. Not only were the sari’s amazingly beautiful. The mannequins didn’t disappoint either.
If you are ever in Chicago and dying for a samosa, you have to go to check out Devon Avenue. It’s more than just a place with good Indian restaurants. It’s a glimpse into a really cool ethnic neighborhood. That is one of the things I love about Chicago. Sure there is the Sears (Willis) Tower, Michigan Ave, and Art Institute that make Chicago great, but the thing I love about Chicago are all the ethnic neighborhoods.
I’ve postponed the White Castle slider eating contest until Jeff feels better. I already know I’m going to win, but I want there to be a little competition.