Showing posts with label country house. Show all posts
Showing posts with label country house. Show all posts

Thursday, November 16, 2017

THE JOHN BRUNI MUSEUM OF MEDIOCRE (AT BEST) SHIT #25: CHEESEBURGER REVIEWS






[I love cheeseburgers. Always have, always will. I have had many cheeseburgers in many places in this country and in Ireland. But my findings in this review stand to this day. The Country House still makes thegreatest cheeseburger in the land. Maybe they’re not $7.50 anymore. It’s more like ten bucks, but it is still worth every penny. I’ve been down to Tennessee and Georgia, where oddly enough they can’t cook anything lower than medium well. I thought the south was supposed to have great burgers. Oh yeah, and Ireland had awful burgers everywhere I went. Apparently they have to cook meat to a crisp due to Mad Cow disease. Also, they use shredded cheese instead of sliced cheese. When they present it to you, it looks like a cat puked on hockey puck. Too bad. The Irish will never know what a good burger is supposed to taste like. This appeared in the Elmhurst College Leader on April 24, 2000.]


It’s so hard to find a good cheeseburger these days, especially since restaurants are concerned with being sued by customers who got food poisoning because of unseared meat. Fear not—there are still places that serve a cheeseburger like it was meant to be served (ie. medium rare; bloody burgers are too slimy, and well-done is too dried out).


First of all, Denny’s is not one of these places. Sure, they’re open 24 hours, which is a godsend for those drawn to the night by either desire or necessity. Yes, some of the food is edible, like the mozzarella sticks. However, the burger is dry and crispy. Meat was meant to be tender and juicy. If the cheeseburger crunches in your mouth, it’s a bad sign. Denny’s will not cook the meat to its proper state. Not only that, but they put too many sesame seeds on their bun, which is just wrong. However, the waiters can take a lot of crap, which is a very good quality to exploit. They’ll do anything but have the cook make your cheeseburger medium-rare.


D’s Diggety Dogs Diner, 2121 Butterfield Rd., Oak Brook, has a better cheeseburger, but not by much. They don’t cook a burger to the desire of the customer, and the burger itself is wafer thin served on a cold bun. Imagine eating a McDonald’s cheeseburger without the grease, and this is what D’s burgers taste like. Unlike Denny’s, D’s has an excuse. D’s is a hot dog place, not a cheeseburger place. Their hot dogs are great, just stay away from the burgers. Besides, they have fish tanks to keep you entertained, and you can always try to figure out whether or not those marlins on the walls are real.


Ye Olde Town Inn, 18 W. Busse Ave., Mt. Prospect, is much better. Not only is there a live band at night with pool tables in the back, complete with pictures of the Mexican War moments on the walls, the cooks aren’t afraid of medium-rare. Unfortunately, their idea of medium-rare is closer to medium-well. The meat isn’t tender enough, and the bun is too hard. The burger’s good, just not good enough. However, they give you popcorn for free. Maybe it’s not the greatest popcorn in the world, but it’s free, and you’re college students. You don’t need a math professor to help you figure this one out.


Where Ye Old Town Inn fails, the Silverado Grill, 447 Spring Rd., succeeds. On the walls are rifles and spurs and, of course, a picture of the Duke in Rooster Cogburn get-up (what Western oriented place would be complete without the Duke?). They serve their mozzarella sticks with barbeque sauce. Most importantly, they’ve got an extremely rare sense of medium-rare. The animal’s heart stopped beating a few minutes before they brought out the burger on a plate. It was literally bleeding its juices all over the place, saturating everything in sight, including the already grease-softened fries. It’s so messy they serve it with a gourmet bun, so the bread won’t fall apart. The only problem with the burger is that only the inside is tender and juicy. The outside is a bit rough and flaky. Thus, the Silverado has to take second place.


The greatest cheeseburger in the world comes from the Country House, 241 W. 55th St., Clarendon Hills. Biting into the Country House cheeseburger is like taking a bite out of Heaven. Juices fill the mouth, and the meat is tender, all on a bun crisped just right. With the perfect fries on the side, it is a meal fit for the gods. Thankfully, you don’t have to end up getting your liver cut out by an eagle every day to get it—$7.50 for a cheeseburger may seem like a bit much, but it’s worth every penny for the ideal cheeseburger.


What, then, is the ideal cheeseburger? Medium-rare. American cheese. A bun, lightly crisped. Nothing on it but mustard and ketchup. With fries. You might ask, what qualifies John Bruni to give such criteria? I’m on the Leader staff, am I not? You can trust us—we’re professionals. If that isn’t enough, I’ve been all over this great country of ours, and I have had my share of cheeseburgers. Some places in Arizona make great cheeseburgers, but why go to Arizona when the greatest cheeseburger in the world is made in Clarendon Hills at the Country House?


Elmhurst College students, why settle for a burger from a typical fast food place? If money is a problem, stop making obscene phone calls and start stealing cars. This is Elmhurst, land of the expensive car. The land is rife with rich people to steal from. Reach for your piece of Heaven. Eat the Country House cheeseburger.

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

THE JOHN BRUNI MUSEUM OF MEDIOCRE (AT BEST) SHIT #16: FIRST HAND (SIDEBAR TO LOCAL HAUNTS)



[This sidebar accompanied my Local Haunts piece in the Elmhurst College Leader. It was true then, and it’s still true today: the Country House makes the greatest cheeseburger in the world. I go at least once or twice a month. I also go out to Bachelor Grove Cemetery every once in a while. One time I went with my friend and co-creator of THE COCAINE! BROS. Robert Tannahill. He took a picture of the double grave all the way back and left from the gate. It looked like someone had been digging in it. When we got the film developed, he saw fog in the shape of a face. Sure enough, it was clearly a face, and it took us a moment to see a second figure, this one head and shoulders with two cigarette burns for eyes. I would love to post that picture here, but goddammit. That asshole lost the picture when he moved away from Chicago. As for Munger Road, it is no longer as creepy as it used to be. It’s paved and well-lit. The house by the railroad tracks is gone. There are no more frogs or even fog. Too bad.]



I went to a lot of these places in order to research them, and given the number of sites I visited, I had a minimal amount of “supernatural experiences.”


The first was at the Country House. I had just finished my interview with David Regnery and was unlocking my car door when I heard a knocking sound on the hood of my car. It wasn’t anything weak like a tapping, it was an actual knocking. It was my second trip to the restaurant (of three), and I have not experienced anything else there. I don’t know what to make of it, but spooks or not, the Country House makes the best cheeseburger I’ve ever had.


At a second trip to Bachelor Grove Cemetery (again, of three), I didn’t have any experience while I was actually there. I took a few pictures. Nothing fancy, just a point and click camera. When the film developed, all the pictures except for one came out with a strange white streak through them in the dark background. I don’t know what to make of these pictures, but I’ve been asking around. So far, there hasn’t been an explanation, but I’m having a friend of Richard T. Crowe look at them.


Aside from that, I just went to very spooky places. In fact, the first time I went out to Munger Road, it was 3 am, and raining fiercely, complete with thunder and lightning. Fog covered everything, but I saw no dead children. Whether these places are haunted or not, I don’t know, but they certainly are scary places to be.


And yes, I do have a pinch of dirt from Mary Alice Quinn’s grave. I experienced the smell of roses while I was there, but that was because someone actually left a couple of roses there that time.

Thursday, December 22, 2016

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #240: A MIRROR BRIGHTLY

Not too long ago I went to the Country House with a dear friend of mine. In case you don't know me very well, the Country House in Clarendon Hills is home to the greatest cheeseburger known to humanity. If you love cheeseburgers, then you need to go there immediately. I don't care if you're currently in Siberia. Make the pilgrimage. You'll love it.


At the end of our meal I went to the bathroom, mostly because I eat like a slob and needed to clean my fingers off. I happened to look up into the mirror, and I was kind of surprised by the face I saw. The lights in the bathroom are very bright, so I could see every wrinkle and gray hair on my head. I looked fucking old. That's the first time I noticed that. I've made comments about gray hair in my beard this year, but this is the first time I saw that I was no longer 19 years old.


There is one annoying gray hair near the top of my head. It pisses me off because every time I see it I think I've got something stuck in my hair. But the others? I don't mind them so much. From what I can tell, aside from that one irritating hair, I'm going to go gray like old-time Nick Fury. That suits me fine.


I'm OK with getting old, but not too old. That's a topic for another day. Maybe for my 40th birthday I'll write a piece on that. Which, by the way, isn't too far off. In 2017 I will be 39.


Only a handful of people I know will recognize that as familiar. I'll probably get deeper into it someday. But for now . . . goodnight, fuckers.