Saturday night, which happened to be my last night in Chicago, we chased food. Never mind that Evanston has plenty to brag about food-wise. We wanted to go to a place that was a 45 minute drive away, in a neighborhood far west of downtown, among warehouses and fast food eateries.
Why the effort? The place has the reputation of being the best “inexpensive” (this term is admittedly relative) restaurant in town.
The place happens to be called Think.
And this says mountains about who we are, our small eating foursome that has sat around a table and chomped its way through many a meal in the last decades. We are bound in our common love of eating together (at places that show a great respect for the food, the people who make it and those – us – who consume it).
Fresh and honest, lack of pretension, intimate, exciting – food presentation qualities for which we will travel far.
So this should have created a perfect moment.
And it did. Almost.
I have no complaints about the food. Smoked salmon with capers and caviar over crispy potato nests in a horseradish sauce, followed by pasta with frutti di mare in a spicy tomato sauce, finished off with a chocolate dipped cannoli with mascarpone cream and fresh fruits. All great stuff.
think: in the beginning
think: what matters in the end
But life does move beyond the dinner plate and this morning our small band had to take a breath and move on to the next moment in time.
I drove my youngest to the airport. O’Hare was starting to swell, even at the crazy early hour of 6 a.m. The drizzle changed to rain and as I switched gears, turning northward toward Madison, I played one CD over and over and contemplated the days behind and the days ahead. If I sound pensive, I am that and then some. In a calm way though. In a good way.