Maria Nelson

The massive mural of Mao Zedong in Tony Hu’s new restaurant has raised a red flag for more than a few food critics. Lao Hunan is embellished with all the amusing touches of the Hunan province of China, including the face of its most prominent former resident, Chairman Mao. The servers are decked out in drab olive People’s Liberation Army uniforms, complete with matching messenger bags. A fellow diner noted that it was a bit unnerving to see waiters dressed in military uniforms smile at him, but for the most part the decorating effort comes off as more historical than radical. In fact, the only things truly communist in this joint are the communal tables. Despite Lao Hunan’s busy décor, the crowd-pleasing menus are stocked with unpretentious, well-executed Chinese staples.

Tony Hu, regarded by many as the unofficial mayor of Chinatown, is a humble and ambitious man. His philosophy is simple: cook authentic Chinese food true to the culinary traditions of the provinces his restaurants represent. Despite Hu’s modest aims, each of his projects has received consistent critical attention and acclaim. He is sometimes credited as the key source of Chinatown’s transformation over the past two decades into an accessible dining destination. His newest restaurant, Lao Hunan, sits behind a yellow and red sign and matching canopy on Wentworth in old Chinatown.  Lao Hunan specializes in dishes from the Hunan province in southern China, which borders Hu’s native Sze Chuan. Hunanese cuisine is known for packing a scorching dry heat; the spice used numbs the mouth, temporarily enabling diners to consume remarkable quantities of spicy food.

The medium-sized dining room comfortably seats about 50 people at various small rectangular and large round tables. For a Friday night, the wait is not long, the frazzled host quickly moving through the long list of reservations.

Lao Hunan has two menus: one which offers Hunanese specialty items (as well as cameos from Lao Sze Chuan, such as the Sze Chuan Green Beans and Ma Po Tofu) and the other, a “Taste of Asia” menu, which provides a more general spread of Chinese appetizers, stir-fry dishes, and fried rice and noodles.

Flavorful, delicate, and refined, the Jade Tofu ($5) is a good choice for a first course in place of generic fried offerings from the Taste of Asia menu. Thin chilled slices of firm tofu are served in chili oil with chopped scallions; the mixed sensation of cool and spicy on the tongue is unusual and memorable, and the scallions provide a textural counterpoint.

As in most traditional Chinese restaurants, plates are placed in the center of the table to be shared and served with a large bowl of rice. Popular dishes are eaten quickly while the less preferred are neglected, eventually boxed up and handed off as leftovers. The clear winner of the evening’s main courses was the Spicy and Crispy Chicken ($11)—fried bites of chicken served on a bed of dried red chilies. The Famous Stir Fried Lamb ($15) and House Fried Rice ($8) were also finished quickly. Chairman Mao’s Favorite Pork Belly ($10) was intensely spicy sweet, though too indulgent to justify a second serving; the table went through this course slowly due to fattiness of the meat and portion size, which was three times the size of similar pork belly dishes found in trendy farm-to-table small plate restaurants sweeping Chicago.

Spice, the centerpiece of Hunanese cuisine, was subtle enough in many dishes to be enjoyed by even the most pain-intolerant of diners. One item on the menu, however, begged adventurous guests for a bite: the Famous Hunan Chili in Black Bean Sauce ($9), a bowl of black beans accompanied by strips of spicy green peppers in a tongue-tingling chili sauce.

Noting that the dish was already marked with two chilies on the menu (out of a possible two), in the spirit of inquiry one daring diner asked for the dish to be prepared extra hot. While the heat drew tears and cries for milk from some, others remarked that the heat complimented the more nuanced flavors of the chili nicely. Suffice it to say, Lao Hunan is equipped to satisfy a wide range of palates.

2230 S. Wentworth Ave. Monday-Sunday, 10:30am-11:00pm. (312)842-7888

Chelsea Leu

The name White Castle brings to mind myriad associations—nickel meals, greasy sliders, and Harold and Kumar. But whenever you think of White Castle, it’s hard not to picture one of the actual restaurants. Since the chain was founded in the 1920s, the company has relied on its trademark design to make it more recognizable among consumers. Each branch, the company dictates, has to look quite literally like a castle—Chicago’s Water Tower castle, to be precise—complete with turrets, crenellated walls, and white porcelain brick. Effectively, the buildings themselves became wordless advertisements, glistening roadside invitations to come in and eat.

White Castle #16, at Wabash and Cermak, was built in 1929. Weathering the Depression and the eight decades that followed, the porcelain structure slowly lost its sheen. But, in 2010, after its current owner was awarded a $280,000 grant from the city to rehabilitate this Chicago artifact, the White Castle’s façade was returned to its former gleaming white glory. In September, the site was deemed so important that the Commission on Chicago Landmarks awarded White Castle #16 the “2011 Chicago Landmark Award for Preservation Excellence.”

While the building itself is gaining preservation notoriety, the food won’t be receiving any awards for historical accuracy. In fact, the former White Castle now houses two separate but related restaurants—Gourmet Chicken and Chef Luciano, both owned and operated by father and son team Dave and Rocky Gupta. The two restaurants occupy the same enclosed space, though each has its own special fare. Chef Luciano (Dave’s alter ego) serves Italian staples with, as their menu says, “Cajun, Jamaican, African and Indian” accents. Gourmet Chicken, on the other hand, serves fried and roasted chicken, fried okra, and incongruously, Indian dishes, such as curry chicken and naan.

Rocky can constantly be seen in the kitchen, moving between the two sides of the restaurant, while Dave makes appearances on the customers’ side of the counter, his friendly face crinkling with a smile as he wishes visitors an enjoyable meal. One wall of the brightly lit space is painted a bright vermilion, while the rest are covered with framed newspaper clippings and photographs of happy customers. Racks of homemade and hand-labeled bottles of hot sauce, lemonade, and ginger beer flank the ordering counter—a flavorful spread that seems a far cry from what the eighty-year-old building originally offered.

Gourmet Chicken and Chef Luciano aren’t devoid of their own history. Here the workers all wear the same black T-shirts, proclaiming that Gourmet Chicken has been “proudly serving the South Side” since 1982 but the legacy of White Castle still (quite literally) surrounds them.

The Guptas are conscious of this legacy. To celebrate the completion of the renovation last November, they offered their take on White Castle’s famous Depression-era five-cent burger deal—a two-piece roast chicken dinner with rice pilaf for a nickel. But their mission of bringing gourmet yet affordable food to Chicago seems in direct contrast to the assembly line-produced fast food of White Castle. As a chef, Dave sees bringing tasty, nutritious, and affordable food to his customers as a life mission. This belief was the driving force behind his decision to switch from fried to roasted chicken dishes in 1988. Though some scoffed that roasted chicken wouldn’t sell, Dave firmly believed that “if you give people choices, they will make the right choice.”  Gourmet Chicken and Chef Luciano, then, occupy a unique niche—neither fast-food chain nor pricey fine dining, but  a simple, two-part eatery where the staff look after their customers.

Still miss that quick-and-dirty White Castle fare? While the former White Castle #16 no longer serves Chicagoans, a modern-day, functional White Castle is visible just across the street—a testament to the chain’s power as a cultural icon and, perhaps, the unchanging tastes of the American palate. According to White Castle Inc., the chain “is more than a company. It’s an experience that transcends time, space and sometimes, rational thought.” Though it may sound like hyperbole, it seems as if this mantra still rings true in White Castle #16, even though its royal burger days are done.

49 E. Cermark Rd. Monday-Saturday, 10:30am-8pm. (312)326-0026. chefluciano.com

Maggie Sivit

When the final stake was hammered into the transcontinental railway in 1869, many Chinese immigrant workers found themselves without a home. One year later, Chicago’s Chinese population was first documented, and from this original population, today’s Chinatown developed. Bolstered by a second wave of immigration in the ’50s and ’60s, the area has developed two distinct sections.  “Old Chinatown” runs down Wentworth Street, and is a string of family restaurants and shops that have been in the neighborhood for years. Here, the iconic Pui Tak Center, designed in an exaggerated pagoda-style by Norwegian architects in 1926, ushers in Chinatown visitors. “New Chinatown” on Archer Avenue  attracts a diverse, younger clientele. Two of the neighborhood’s most popular restaurants, Joy Yee’s and Lao Szechuan, are located here, drawing crowds from across the city. Nearby, statues of the twelve zodiac animals stand guard over college kids clutching cups of bubble tea.

The streets mimic the bustle of Hong Kong’s crowded roads, with cars and jaywalkers fighting for road space. The shop signs here are bilingual (traditional Chinese characters displayed more prominently) and most, if not all, of the shop owners speak Cantonese. But this district is a quieter replica than the Chinatowns in New York and San Francisco. It lacks the claustrophobia, the ear-splitting market yelps, and the breathless pace that any modern Chinese city notoriously features. On weekends, the streets are more lively with echoes from karaoke bars, but overall, the neighborhood has a subdued spirit characteristic of the city of Burnham’s wide boulevards.

Best Place of Solace
Enlightenment Temple
Tucked away between a tea shop and the World Treasures Emporium, this little Buddhist retreat is concealed from the ordinary, wandering tourist. Its humble storefront is only distinguished by an overhanging yellow sign, informing visitors that behind the display glass is the Buddhist Enlightenment Temple. Those so inclined can pray, light incense, and set their offerings on the altar inside. Otherwise, visitors can browse the temple’s gift store and purchase talismans, rosaries, and devotional statues. The sanctuary is maintained by dedicated nuns under the International Buddhist Friendship Association, who not only lead prayer and scripture sessions, bust also care for the temple’s famed thousand-armed Guan Yin Bodhisattva. 2249 S. Wentworth. Daily, 9am-6:30pm. (312)881-0177 (Wenjia Zhao)

Best Chinese-Style Breakfast
Chi-Café
For those looking to deviate from a run-of-the-mill American breakfast, this stylish, contemporary restaurant on Archer Avenue is a must-try. In addition to typical Chinese restaurant fare like congee and fried dough, Chi-Café offers harder-to-find delights such as honey garlic chicken wings and baked rice bowls. On weekends, while most of the other restaurants on the street are closed, this place is full of hungry customers. Diners can sit and relax on its comfy white booths, and enjoy the sunlight reflecting off the glass art panels on the walls. Early-risers and nights-owls can both rejoice: Chi-Café opens early and closes past midnight. A meal for two (including tips) typically costs between $8-12, and so even the budget-conscious can have their fill. 2160-A S. Archer Avenue, Sunday–Thursday, 8am–2am; Friday- Saturday, 8am–5am. (312)842-9943 (Wenjia  Zhao)

Best For the Novelties Collector
World Treasures Emporium
With so many gift shops in Chinatown, it might be easy for the passing traveler to simply accept shelves crammed with a boilerplate repertoire of overpriced miniature Buddhas, plastic flowers, and lucky cat charms. Fortunately, World Treasures Emporium sets itself apart. Despite the name, this shop does not actually carry wares from across the globe, or even attempt to go beyond Chinese borders.  Excuse the stretch, though: they sell higher quality trinkets than most of their counterparts, and the store is neatly organized—you’ll find no random piles of wholesale items here. Its comfortable aisles offer breathing space for the visitor to marvel at merchandise supplied nowhere else in Chinatown—a golden hand-painted ship, for instance, or scented sandalwood fans. True to its name, this shop may actually contain modest treasures for the keen of sight. 2253 S. Wentworth Avenue, (312)808-1818 (Wujun Ke)

Best All-Rounder
Richland Center
With a conspicuous glass rotunda and red block lettering resembling that of an office supply chain, the entrance to Richland Center towers over a corner on Wentworth Avenue just north of the Red Line stop. Home of the Richland Real Estate Group, this three-story building also houses an indoor/outdoor food court and shopping center on its ground floor. While Bollywood crossover hit “Jai Ho” inexplicably plays on a never-ending loop, the food stalls are truly reminiscent of those in China—compact, flamboyant, and arranged around a café area. Shoppers may enjoy a quick Chinese bun or sit down at an Asian buffet, teppanyaki grill, or sushi bar. From the purikura sticker booths where friends can squeeze into a snapshot to the practitioners of acupuncture, Richland Center offers a range of merchandise, food, and services found all over China but nowhere else in Chinatown. 2002 S. Wentworth Ave. Opening and Closing times vary by vendor. (312)225-2828 (Wujun Ke)

Best Grocery Market
Richwell Market
If you’re looking for food so fresh it’s alive, forget your local Dominick’s or Jewel Osco and head over to this supermarket on the border of Chinatown. Not only can you get crawling crabs in the back, but a more typical selection of fresh fruits and vegetables is also available. Though the live fish market is the biggest draw, don’t forget to grab a tasty bun from the bakery. The condiment aisle features all sorts of ingredients for every variety of Asian cooking, from the ubiquitous Sriracha chili sauce to Bagoong, a Filipino fish sauce. Located slightly off the beaten trail, and away from the general Chinatown vicinity, make sure you don’t fill too many bags with your purchases—it’s a 20-minute walk to the Red Line. 1835 S. Canal St. Daily, 9am–7:30pm. (312)226-9611 (Wenjia Zhao)

Courtesy of Peregrine Program

“A larger view” hangs on the off-white walls of the Peregrine Program, an art gallery on the western edge of Chinatown. Rectangular shapes compose a visual symphony, curious not because of the inherent orderliness of the straight lines and 90-degree angles, but because of its arbitrary arrangement. The stark presence of industrial materials like pewter and graphite contrasts with the vibrant colors and shades that decorate the panel, ensuring that every form can be seen even from a distance. A touch of phosphorescent pigment gives the work a reflective sheen that shifts with the viewer’s gaze, provoking an inquisitive double-take.

That impulse to take a second look is at the heart of Joan Waltemath’s “Contingencies” exhibit. Contingency involves both the whimsies of chance and the connection between things. In both senses of the word, contingency originates the moment Waltemath begins a new piece of art. Using math as her basis, Waltemath begins every project by programming a three-dimensional cube on her computer, where she locates a point that will give her a rectangle that adheres to the Golden Ratio. Once she draws a perfect rectangle, Waltemath releases the project from her control, allowing the program to draw horizontal and vertical lines based on the Fibonacci Sequence across the virtual cube. As soon as the artist decides the computer program has drawn enough lines, she lays the grid as the foundation of her work and intuitively marks forms she believes will make her artwork more impactful.

Formerly a professor at The Cooper Union in New York, Waltemath’s treatment of space and lines emerges from intellectual experimentation that combines both hard science and instinct. At first, Waltemath’s style seems to mimic late De Stijl compositions by Mondrian and van Doesburg. But a closer look reveals that her art is in fact highly nuanced—it is clear that Waltemath has her own ideas about how to use color, medium, and form in order to emphasize space.

Waltemath plays with texture to give her pieces more depth—literally and figuratively—using a wide range of materials, including Khadi paper, egg tempera, and metals. The artist’s close attention to materials contributes to the subtle beauty of “Dinwoody I,” an 80.5-inch-tall work made up of a huge rectangle that appears completely black from far away. Up close, though, different shades of graphite suddenly emerge and form dark valleys that run throughout the piece.

Because of the reflective nature of the materials, every work looks different at different points of the day. Waltemath also chooses her materials so that the viewer’s visual understanding of the work can change the moment he or she walks from one side of the room to the other. This creates a dynamic subject-object relationship, inspiring viewers to question their understanding of Waltemath’s art. In addition, Peregrine Program curator Edmund Chia arranged the pieces so that they bounce off of one another creating what Chia terms a “formal connection” between the individual pieces. Whether by connecting a line from one artwork to another or determining which colors complement each other, Waltemath and Chia strive to encourage viewers to examine space within the individual pieces and in the gallery itself.

An average person probably spends a mere two or three seconds looking at a painting, yet in her exhibit, Waltemath argues that taking time to absorb detail is fundamental to experiencing art. In a fast-paced world that feels as though there is never enough time, “Contingencies” creates a realm in which the viewer’s sense of temporal reference slows to a near halt.

Peregrine Program, 500 W Cermak Rd #727. Through May 14. Viewing by appointment. Send all queries to Edmund Chia via ed@peregrineprogram.com.

Spanning three blocks on Wentworth, the Lunar New Year Parade rang in one of the most important holidays on the Chinese calendar, melding traditional symbols with local politics and color. Men dressed as Cai Shen, the god of prosperity, waved at the spectators between groups of local high school marching bands that blared intermittently.  Two men held American flags in a gazebo riding on what looked like a tissue-paper-covered tank. Brightly colored dragons with furry trappings bobbed and slithered down the street, greeted by cheers from the sidelines.  A couple of University of Illinois students got swept up in the moment; one of them screamed and wagged her finger, “Woo, it’s a dragon! A silver dragon! I’m gonna catch it!” The other, slightly more reserved, belted out “This is the greatest parade in Chicago.” And then, reaching her arm out and groping the air, “I want a fortune cookie! The short girl back here wants one!”

At TenRen, a tea shop down the street, a local TV crew interviewed Frank Fine, the store president, about his wares. Fine, an affable elderly man from Southern China, patiently listed off the benefits of the teas and herbs he sells. The interviewer nodded and repeated, at a high pitch, certain select words and phrases: “longevity,” and “oh, so it’s nutritional,” and “brings good fortune…” Fine broke her train of presumptuous thought when he told her that the ginseng from Wisconsin was of higher quality than that from China. The reason? “Virgin land.”

Where in Chicago can I find live turtles? Unless this is your usual follow-up question to “What’s for dinner?” a visit to any one of the many markets lining the streets of Chinatown is sure to expand your culinary horizons.

For a decent starting place, you might want to follow a local to any of the several markets within easy walking distance of the Cermak-Chinatown subway stop, either dispersed about Chinatown plaza or along Wentworth Avenue. While these mom-and-pop establishments—complete with aisles of preserved goods surrounded by butchering blocks as well as tables of vegetables, fruits, grains, and roots—can’t quite compare to the open-air wet markets of China, they still manage to stock an impressive enough variety of food that rivals that of most massive Asian retail outlets.

In China, many families visit open-air wet markets daily for ingredients meant for immediate preparation. Wet markets—so named from floors perpetually slick from hosing down—usually feature live animals available for butchering on-site or at home, as well as greens brought from nearby farms. The availability of live animals in Chinatown, on the other hand, is limited to a few stores (Fat Lee Grocery, Starlight Market), including turtles, blue crabs, shrimp, and lobster. Meat is generally pre-butchered in sides and sold per part, with some particular specialties restricted to a single store (pork liver at Chinatown Market, chicken’s feet at Fat Lee Grocery). The vegetables found in markets in China—bok choy, bamboo, chives, lotus root, napa cabbage, water spinach, and bean sprouts, to name a few—are seldom missing from the shelves of authentic Chinese grocery stores in Chicago. The only difference between those markets and the groceries in Chinatown is that the greens here are imported, not fresh from the field. A few goods come from overseas, while many more commonly found vegetables, such as tomatoes and broccoli, are grown in Indiana, Florida, or Mexico.

That’s not to say that Chinatown residents are anything but satisfied. At May Flower Food, Inc. on Archer Avenue, one mother identified herself as a regular, saying, “It’s a good store. It has a good selection.” Though one might from time to time question the freshness of a few of the leafy greens, usually a conversation with the workers in the back will land you a fresher batch. Not to mention, an often overlooked nook of Chinese fare is made up of preserved goods. With these products, a distant expiration date is a better mark of quality than purported “freshness.” Dried shrimp, salty duck egg, various pickled vegetables, century eggs, dried fish, and preserved plums crowd the shelves adjacent to a array of sauces ranging from soy to spicy tofu. Even a Japanese customer at Chinatown Market deemed the selection appropriate for her style of cooking, finding the shiitake mushrooms just right and the Chinese King mushrooms “just a bit larger than Japanese King mushrooms,” but still to her taste.

Non-Chinese visitors to Chinatown markets are a more frequent occurrence than one might expect. The stores certainly aren’t English-friendly—the labels for the vegetables and meat are often handwritten in Chinese, and the store employees speak only Cantonese. For those monolingual Chicagoans who appreciate a change in palate, however, the markets in Chinatown can offer many uncommon pantry items and snacks. Prices are also a large part of the stores’ appeal (lobster at $8.50 per pound), as is the chance to ogle bizarre foods from the other side of the world.

Some stores have noticeably adjusted to the influx of non-Chinese patrons. One interesting indicator is the in-store music—while Hong Kong Seafood City plays soft strains of Cantonese ballads, the air at Chicago Food Market is usually filled with pop melodies from Billboard hits. The new customers may be instrumental to the groceries’ continued success. One worker spoke to the fact that business has been a bit difficult. “We were established twenty years ago, but now there’s been more competition. More stores have been built nearby because on this street there are a lot of tourists.” The counter she worked behind was lined with what looked like the contents of a child’s Halloween basket—Butterfingers, M&M’s, Kit Kats—all facing the doorway and contrasting sharply with the rest of the store’s traditional assortment of Chinese ingredients.

At the same time, some grocery stores still remain largely unconvinced of the need to reach out to an American customer base. At Starlight Market, located a floor down and tucked away from the main street, most of the patrons were Cantonese-speaking residents living in the neighborhood. “Americans usually only come in during the holidays,” the cashier admitted.

While the rise in foot traffic from outside of Chinatown is sure to be welcomed by local business owners , the authenticity of some stores like Tai Wah Grocery and Hong Kong Seafood City that include small altars with meat or fruit offerings to Taoist gods would be out of place in a Chinatown that was trying too hard to assimilate to mainstream American culture. At the end of the day, Chinatown seeks to live up to the promise of authenticity made by its name.

From the elevated lines of the 54th and Cermak Red Line stop, the smell of dumplings beckons crowds to the gates of Chinatown. If the broad, open streets and modern buildings in this neighborhood feel different from the crowded, urban environment of the well-known Chinatowns in New York City and San Francisco, it’s largely because of the unique history of the people who built it up and still maintain a tightly knit community.

The Chinese district began first began developing in Chicago around Clark and Van Buren in the early 20th century, well after Chinese communities had been established on the West Coast. Many immigrants to Chicago were looking to escape racial violence in California, Washington, and Oregon, and to find work after the completion of the Transcontinental Railroad.

Discrimination and soaring rents pushed the Chinese population south, obtaining leases in a former red light district around the intersection of Cermak and Wentworth. The iconic building in Old Chinatown that now houses the Pui-Tak Center, a community center dedicated to the needs of new immigrants, was actually built by Chicago-born Norwegian architects in 1926. The building was intended to be a bold symbol of Chinese culture, but at the time there were no Chinese architects in Chicago.

New Chinatown, a shiny, two level outdoor strip mall area just west of the Red Line stop, was built in the late ’80s. Here, you’ll find a huge variety of restaurants (from sushi to sweet shops), hairdressers, and even a liquor store specializing in traditional baiju. All three of restaurateur Tony Hu’s restaurants—Lao Szechuan, Lao Beijing, and Lao Shanghai—are crowd pleasers, but wait times are long, so it’s worth branching out to discover something new and perhaps more traditional.

best sichuan
Spring World

Tucked away in the strip mall of New Chinatown, the modest space of Spring World was bustling even late on a Monday night. An entire extended family squeezed into pushed-together tables, rubbing elbows with men busily devouring giant bowls of noodle soup. When I inquired about vegetarian fare, the waitress breezily gestured to the entire “vogetable” section, but be warned: a boat of Ma Po Tofu arrived speckled with chunks of pork. But despite the confusing presentation, Spring World brings the deliciously numbing heat of traditional Sichuanese fare. The Chengdu Noodles are unsurpassed, and the classic Sichuanese Dan Dan noodles were superb. Adventurous eaters may choose to sample medicinal mushroom dishes, pig’s tongue, or various intestines. For the nuts and bolts of ordering and getting the check, I would suggest bringing along a native speaker, but aside from that, good food is universal. 2109 S. China Place. Monday-Friday, 10:30am-10:30pm; Sunday, 10:30am-
11pm. (312)326-9966 (Vriti Jain)

best chinese home cooking
Ken Kee’s

Though it can’t boast the bright lights and glitz of neighboring Joy Yee’s, Ken Kee’s still draws in a steady crowd with its delicious home-style dishes. Half of the items are dishes I would expect my grandmother to cook up in her tiny kitchen in China, from the tender and garlicky snow pea tips to the stir-fried fish filet with ginger and onions. Ken Kee’s menu is easy to peruse, with a wide range of favorites pictured on the front followed by an extensive list of dishes. If you’re feeling bold, try one of the specials written on colorful construction paper and pasted on the walls—they include every imaginable animal part in at least two preparations. With Ken Kee’s affordable prices, it’s possible to try a wide selection of dishes, whether you’re dining alone or with a group. A note to the wise, though: skip the bubble tea here and hop over to Joy Yee’s after your meal. That is, if you can fit anything else in your stomach. 2129 S. China Place. Daily, 11am-1am. (312)326-2088 (Han Zhu)

best bubble tea
Joy Yee’s Noodle Shop

Bubble tea was ostensibly first created in Taiwan, but it’s not particularly traditional. Invented in the 1980s, the earliest forms of bubble tea weren’t popular until publicized by a Japanese TV show. Authenticity aside, bubble tea is a unique, delicious concoction, and no one does it better in Chinatown than Joy Yee’s. The food here is not particularly interesting, though it is an attractive option for those seeking more familiar fare. The bubble tea pros preside over a counter with multiple blenders, piled high with a variety of fruit. The drink menu is impressive, boasting fresh fruit “freezes,” milk teas, green freezes, shaved ice, and—my personal favorite—mini tapioca pearls. Especially recommended: the taro smoothie with tapioca. The fresh flavor, perfect consistency, and delicate lavender shade complement each other to create a great end to any meal. 2159 S. China Place Monday-Thursday, 5pm-10:30pm. Friday, 5pm–midnight. Saturday, 11am–Midnight. Sunday, 11am-10:30pm. (312)842-8928. (Vriti Jain)

Savory Radish Cake (avlxyz/flickr)

Opened in October 2009, Sweet Station is Cantonese restaurateur and amateur graphic designer Kevin Wu’s second restaurant in Chinatown Square. Aesthetically similar to Chi Café, opened three years earlier, Sweet Station offers an expanded menu of Cantonese barbeques, dim sum dishes, and Hong Kong specialties as well as Chinese pastries made in-house.

Wu conceptualized Sweet Station as a bakery-café-restaurant along the lines of trendy places he’d seen on frequent visits to Hong Kong and San Francisco’s Chinatown.

“I saw a lot of great restaurants over there, on the other side, that combined fresh and healthy ingredients with style, and I thought, we need to make one in Chicago’s Chinatown,” Wu said.

The fact that Wu studied graphic design in college, does design consulting work for friends, and runs a construction company alongside his two restaurants comes across in the meticulous matching of the dining room’s design elements, and the way these elements reflect the restaurant’s health-conscious take on traditional Cantonese food.

Wu designed Sweet Station using the aesthetic and colors of the restaurant’s logo. White spirals alluding to the logo’s Chinese sweet cake symbol cover the southern wall, and everything, from the white laminate booths to a double row of granny smith apples bisecting the narrow restaurant’s central booths, use the four colors of the logo.

Sweet Station’s simple, minimalist design was intended to reflect the freshness and health of its items, not a minimalist menu. The shallowness of the open kitchen at the back of the dining room is deceptive: a custom dumbwaiter connects the small, one-stove kitchen to a twenty-chef studio spanning the dining room’s length. Sweet Station’s menu lists over two hundred dishes, not including milk teas, specials, and bakery options. Including Cantonese hot pots and specialties like tea tree mushroom and roasted pork, radish cakes, and ginseng and silkie chicken stew, Sweet Station’s menu is as extensive and exotic as that of another Chinatown staple, Joy Yee’s. The restaurant also serves Americanized Chinese food staples like Crab Rangoon, egg rolls, General Tsao’s and Kung Pao chicken, and unlike Joy Yee’s, includes low-cost dim sum lover’s comfort dishes, like barbecue pork buns, rice noodle wraps, and fish balls.

Wu’s passion for design in no way implies that he puts food on the back burner, so to speak. Prior to opening his own restaurants, Wu worked in the kitchen of upscale Chinese restaurants in Peoria and Naperville, and he continues to work in the kitchen alongside Sweet Station’s head chef, a Hong Kong native. “I like to cook. I like to see good food,” Wu said. And he’s quick to emphasize that design, not cooking, is the hobby.

The food served at Sweet Station is not gourmet, fusion, or cutting edge, but it’s solid, and visitors can expect quality along the lines of upscale chain restaurants like the Cheesecake Factory. Pretty much anything you order at Sweet Station, from Chinatown standards to dim sum dishes to more exotic offerings like fresh lily bulbs and pork stomach, will be light, healthy, and well prepared.

Considering the restaurant’s ambiance and fresh, quality dishes, Sweet Station is a bargain. Traditional noodle, fish, and meat dishes run on the low side of Chinatown prices, and the restaurant also serves cheap bakery and dim sum offerings at all hours. Add to this the fact that it’s one of the few places in Chinatown where fried appetizers don’t leave rings of grease on the dishware, and that it may be the only place where you can fill a Chinese bun craving after 9pm, and Sweet Station is worth repeated visits.
Sweet Station, 2101 S. China Pl. Daily, 6am-2am. (312)842-2228. mysweetstation.com

(Ellis Calvin)

This time last year, the Weekly came out with its first guide to 24-hour restaurants on the South Side. In that issue, we covered classics like Izola’s, Depot, and the original Maxwell Street Polish stands. We’re back this year with a few more selections from the South Side nightscape. From the welcoming diners of Bridgeport and Pilsen to a dim sum restaurant in Chinatown to a fishery along the Chicago River, we present the second course of our after-dark dining manual.

Scott’s Hamburger Heaven
1546 W. 35th St. (773)890-1042
Sitting down at a booth in Scott’s Hamburger Heaven, you get to wondering if the name is meant to be sacrilegious. Decked out for Halloween, campy ghoulish figures hang from the water-stained drop ceiling and little plastic spiders stud the windowsill, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the place were almost as creepy and bug-ridden year-round. The Bridgeport joint’s bill of fare is almost identical to that of its progenitor, the legendary Kevin’s Hamburger Heaven, and covers a range of accidentally ingenious spins on standard diner staples. In true truck-stop form, Scott’s serves breakfast in perpetuity. The hash browns are delightfully greasy, and the omelets are rather airy but come blanketed in a thin, pernicious sheet of melted “cheese.” A whole section of Scott’s menu is devoted to hamburgers, although with a dish called “The One and Only,” how could you order any other burger in good conscience? The signature patty is homemade, over-salted, and stacked with sweet grilled onions, limp pickle slices, and cheese. Meat lovers face the perennial catch-22 of taste and hygiene, as the menu forewarns, “Tenderness not guaranteed on ‘Well Done’ Steaks, or Medium well.” If it’s any consolation, you can order all the meat-n-egg combinations you’ve been craving at Scott’s. The “Pork Chop-N-Egg Sandwich” might actually be decent, while the “T-Bone Omelette” is recommended only for the hardiest patrons. As a side, consider the “Summertime Special Fruit Salad,” which is colorfully described as a “melody of in season fruits,” or perhaps some spicy “Japapinios.” Scott’s may not be paradise, but there are some similarities: like the Pearly Gates, you’ve got to pay in advance (cash only) and the staff reserves the right to refuse you service. If the afterlife is anything like Scott’s Hamburger Heaven, take comfort in the fact that you can look forward to an eternity of heartburn and hilarious typos. (Rachel Wiseman)

Don’s Grill
1837 S. Western Ave. (312)733-9351
A warmly lit, cozy diner on the border between Pilsen and Little Village, Don’s Grill can brighten up your late night. Its cheerful faux-brick space is plastered with kitschy posters, and its fluffy pancakes taste like Bisquick and smell like an American morning. Stick with breakfast food for guaranteed satisfaction; the cherry pie ($2.50), though it looks good, is only mediocre. The French toast ($3.69) is better than average, and the hash browns ($1.69) are better than serviceable. For a midnight pick-me-up, Don’s won’t let you down. (Sam Feldman)

“Little” Three Happiness
209 W. Cermak Rd. (312) 842-1964
Three Happiness’ s original location doesn’t have a large dining room, and on weekend nights it can fill up fast. If you’re craving Chinese late one weeknight, though, Three Happiness is the place for you, conveniently located only one block from the Red Line Cermak-Chinatown stop. It’s not the quickest or cheapest late-night joint—you won’t find anything on the menu for under $3—but while you wait you can enjoy samplings from the weird world of Chinese music videos. Among the appetizers, the creamy crab Rangoon is a solid choice, and the potstickers are also good. The egg rolls taste a bit like chalk and mustard, but not in a bad way. The beverage selection is surprisingly classy, with offerings like White Zinfandel, Chablis, Burgundy, and a sweet, thick plum wine that tastes a lot like mead. Reviews tend to vary wildly, perhaps because the quality of the food is uneven, but if you’re not a connoisseur and you’re tired of diners and Polishes, Three Happiness is a good bet. (Sam Feldman)

Steak ‘N’ Egger
1174 W. Cermak Rd. (312)226-5444
On a dark, industrial stretch of Cermak Road, a coal-powered generating station operates round the clock for the seemingly sole purpose of electrifying a brightly-lit diner across the street. “We doze…but never close!” boasts, or, perhaps, admits, the fluorescent, aging sign in the parking lot of Steak ’n’ Egger. The menu is extensive but pitches few surprises, from the eponymous Steak ’n’ Egger to the Chopped Steak ’n’ Egger, the Country Fried Steak ’n’ Egger, or even just the Two Egger with a side of hash browns and toast. Ordering becomes a complex procedure as we wrestle with dinner versus breakfast orders, half orders, combinations, condiments, and salad options. “Dressing?” “Um, vinaigrette?” “Not here, hun.” We should have known. A short wait and the waitress delivers approximately what we ordered. While not exactly bad, the imitation vanilla milkshake, the candy cinnamon in the pumpkin pie, and the coffee in plastic mugs serve mostly as a reminder of how much better it could be. For late night eating, the fried chicken is just what the doctor ordered, even if we didn’t. The biscuits and gravy are top-notch and the cheeseburger is decent. Steak ’n’ Egger falls a bit short of an ideal diner, but those only exist in movies anyway. (Ellis Calvin)

Lawrence’s Fisheries
2120 S. Canal St. (312)225-2113
Driving north on Canal Street near Chinatown, Lawrence’s Fisheries’ towering sign is a beacon of light on a late Thursday night. Inside, people are lined up along a stretch of countertop between two ordering stations, not quite drooling in anticipation of grabbing a steaming brown bag of freshly fried fish. At Lawrence’s, it is scarily easy to eat an entire meal consisting of battered, fried food.

What distinguishes Lawrence’s from other fried seafood I’ve had, even in cities much closer to the sea, is the crunchy batter coating that is far from the greasy mess of past experiences. Our fish was well cooked and flavorful without tasting like it had been swimming in Lake Michigan just a few minutes before. At $6 for a half-pound, the frog legs are a low-cost way to expose your palate to foods you didn’t think could be found on the South Side of Chicago. As for the oysters, a word of caution: they are truly flavor bombs in the style of Grant Achatz. Be careful when biting into one not to squirt hot oyster juice in the face of the person opposite you.

A sign outside advertises “GREAT TASTE & 0% TRANS FAT PER SERVING.” At least if you’re clogging your arteries, you’ll be doing it one-hundred-percent naturally at Lawrence’s. And that’s more than can be said for some establishments. (Mackenzie Cramblit)

White Palace Grill
1159 S. Canal St. (312)939-7167
At the intersection of a canal, a derelict train yard, and retail stores all but abandoned at two in the morning, the White Palace Grill is a literal beacon of light. Step inside and you’ll find the diner you thought only existed in movies. The unyielding flux of inebriated college kids and chrome-laden furnishings make this a lively, yet comfortable joint. White Palace Grill is the sort of diner where you would want to become a regular. The bacon and cheese Chicago Burger comes with the option of soup or salad and crisp, golden fries. The wall that displays Michael Jordan playing Go Fish with Mayor Daley, and waitresses like Teresa make White Palace Grill the best pit stop this side of the Loop. (Carl Brozek)

Chinatown is a busy South Side commercial district with a CTA Red Line stop near its center, so it’s a popular destination. Students beware: This popularity can be troublesome. Chinatown Square’s Lao Sze Chuan and Joy Yee’s are both worthwhile culinary destinations, but you will probably be seated in between your ex and that kid from your humanities class.

best spot to practice tai chi
Ping Tom Memorial Park
On the former site of a rail yard, the pavilions and bamboo gardens of Ping Tom Memorial Park offer one of Chicago’s finest river vistas. Nestled between rows of gray townhouses and two aging bridges, the park is an uncrowded oasis, with gently rolling lawns dotted by boulders and low trees. Amtrak and freight trains roll over the rusty skew bridge to the south every few minutes, but the swans floating in the river and the old men practicing tai chi in the pavilion don’t seem to mind. Encouraged by and posthumously named for a local businessman and civic leader, Ping Tom belatedly compensates Chinatown for the two parks demolished in the Dan Ryan Expressway’s construction. An underpass to the north leads only to a damp baseball diamond at the moment, but the Chicago Park District has plans to add tennis courts and a pool. A word of caution: the park’s single entrance can be maddeningly obscure (the final episode of a reality show challenged contestants to race there from downtown, sans map), but if you head north from Chinatown’s commercial heart on Wentworth and then head west on 19th Street, you won’t miss it. 300 W. 19th St. (Michael Joyce)

best sichuanese
Double Li
There are plenty of Sichuanese restaurants in Chinatown, but Double Li stands out. Sinus-clearing heat is the order of the day, assuming you can manage to convince the staff that your palate is up to Chinese standards. The black pepper garlic beef tenderloin is a star of the menu, and chef Chungjun “Ben” Li claims most chefs don’t know how to make it. He’s probably right—I’ve never seen it elsewhere. Served with a side of steamed broccoli, the tenderloin chunks are covered in a black pepper and diced garlic rub and cooked more or less dry on the surface. The dry chili chicken and bear paw tofu have received favorable reviews too. Unfortunately, the menu isn’t translated very clearly—the idiomatic meaning of the character translated as “maw” is a Chinatown-spanning mystery, and it’s not apparent that many of the tofu dishes contain chicken and egg. But the staff is helpful, and if you can go with a native speaker, all the better. When asked for hours, an employee reported more hours than occur in a typical 24-hour day. Take these as an educated guess and call ahead. 228 W. Cermak Rd. Monday-Friday, 11am-9:30pm; Saturday, Sunday 11am–10:30pm. Entrees about $10. (312)842-7818 (Michael Joyce)

best alternative to joy yee’s
Saint’s Alp Teahouse
Living up to its name in most regards, this outpost of the Hong Kong-based Saint’s Alp Teahouse serves a confusing variety of small plates and tea-ish drinks. I tried #59, the Double Chocolate Sorbie. Clearly invented by someone who’d never tasted a milkshake, the texture resembled ice ground with chocolate syrup and small pieces of mud. In contrast to the MatchaAgar, FavorWater, Coco de Nata, and most of the menu, the Sorbie was not trademarked. But like most of the menu, and the paintings of an Asian-populated cityscape with palm trees, Mediterranean architecture, and double-decker buses, it baffled me. Though not as popular a spot for drinks as Joy Yee’s, Saint’s Alp has a few things going for it if you’re willing to try something new. The service is efficient, but without the bedlam atmosphere, and though the benches are firm, they’re an order of magnitude more comfortable than the Chair Ones at Joy Yee’s. Perhaps the only downside was the Avril Lavigne-heavy soundtrack. 2131 S. Archer Ave. 11am–midnight. (312)842-1886 (Michael Joyce)

best tea shop
Ten Ren Tea
When I was last visiting Ten Ren, a tourist and paterfamilias boldly led his family to the door of the shop. Gazing upon the entirely white and mostly confused customers and the lone, annoyed Chinese employee, he declared, “This is where the real Chinese locals go.” He wasn’t particularly observant, but Ten Ren is an excellent place to buy Chinese and Japanese tea and tea ware. It is the lone Chicago branch of a Taiwanese export company, and Chicago’s only Chinese tea shop that focuses more on good ol’ camellia sinensis than on sea cucumbers, mushrooms and medicinal herbs. Their collection ranges from the lightest senchas and silver needles to the blackest pu-erhs at every quality grade, and their prices are low. The Chicago store with the most comparable selection—Germany’s TeaGschwendner in Old Town—has prices several times Ten Ren’s. While you wait for the clerk to bring you bins of tea to sample, you can admire the perversely intricate sculptures that are their high-end yixing teapots and tasting cups. 2247 S. Wentworth Ave. 9:30am–7pm. (312)842-1171 (Sam Bowman)