Food Memoirs: "Tastes Like Cuba"

What are the limitations of a food memoir? Eduardo Machado's memoir <span style="font-style: italic;">Tastes Like Cuba: An Exile's Hunger for Home</span> reads like an object lesson on what you can -- and can't -- do with this genre.<br /><br />The early chapters are delightful: the foods of Machado's childhood in Cuba effectively illustrate the relationships of his various grandparents and his early feelings of security, belonging, and family loyalties. One grandmother makes "Newspaper Soup" every day -- from a recipe that was long before published in a newspaper and torn out without its proper title. One grandfather, though he lives with his wife, cooks separately -- his job on the docks gives him access to all kinds of imported luxury foods. The author distrusts the food at his Catholic school because of a roomful of taxidermized animals, whose flesh, he fears, is what's for lunch. He loves Cuban tamales from a street vendor:<br /><blockquote style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">Piping hot cornmeal, the saltiness of pork, all heightened by the bits of fatback throughout. The skin gave texture while the fat delivered the taste of corn and the pork in swirls of steaming flavor. So much that I ate one every day. (p. 12)<br /></blockquote>Vivid. Iconic. Just what most food memoirs do best with their subject.<br /><br />But Castro takes over -- cheered on and supported by Machado's whole family. Disillusionment sets in quickly. The grandfathers lose their jobs and businesses to Castro's policies. The family aren't eating quite as well.<br /><br />Soon the author and his brother are sent alone to America to live with impoverished and unwelcoming relatives. All they have to eat is Spam and other poverty foods supplied by welfare organizations:<br /><blockquote style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">At around five we had a dinner of cold Velveeta cheese sandwiches on white bread with a salad of lettuce and canned garbanzo beans in vegetable oil and distilled vinegar. ... The food tasted more like the chemical processes used to preserve it than any kind of actual flavor. The salad was a disappointing Easter basket, all plastic frills of soggy iceberg covered in wet beans that tasted like metal." (p. 71)</blockquote>When the brothers' parents arrive from Cuba, finally, their mother manages to make even the low-quality American food taste more like home, which of course reinforces the theme of separation, anxiety, and restoration of the family. His father finds no work in Miami, and quickly accepts an offer from Catholic Social Services to relocate them to Los Angeles, sponsored by well-meaning Americans. (Unfortunately, Machado can't resist making fun of their clothes and some of their habits.) Life becomes much more complicated as the author adapts to life in L.A. -- and food, while still important and iconic, begins to fail as a metaphor for all of his life.<br /><br />One food experience involved the author's family's road trip from L.A. to Miami, where they decided to visit the relatives who were still there. Crossing the Deep South, they are not recognized to have the white skin privilege that would allow them freely into the public accommodations that they might choose.<br /><br />"Maybe they thought you were Mexican," says his mother when his father is refused a room at a hotel with a <span style="font-style: italic;">VACANCY</span> sign in Dallas. In Louisiana, "The bathroom signs said <span style="font-size:85%;">WHITES ONLY </span>and there was a long line of black customers waiting to use a ramshackle outhouse way in back. My father had gotten on that long line. I just looked away, unable to believe what I was seeing."<br /><br />That evening, they rented a tourist cabin in an area that was evidently reserved for blacks. But they had dinner in a whites-only restaurant, making the other customers whisper and making the waitress very nervous. She convinces them to order dessert to go. "That night we felt much safer in the security of our own little porch in the long row of cabins. It's easy to forget injustice as you feast on the glorious flavors of homemade peach and pecan pie. Maybe that's why pies are so popular in the South. They're good when your soul hurts." (p. 165-169)<br /><br />I think the author's reduction of his family's treatment to a remark about pie was a little too flippant and over-simplified. Maybe it's a limitation of what you can do in a food memoir, though I doubt that. It seemed to me that his idea of injustice was that they should have been treated as whites, not blacks. He doesn't really seem to have any empathy for the real victims of that era. I'm really uncomfortable with this!<br /><br />The author's high school years involved conflict with his father -- who was becoming very successful as a CPA. Descriptions of food are far from adequate to describe the author's struggle to become an actor, and then, after graduation, his development as a successful playwright. He meets a woman who makes and eats huge, hippie salads, which is interesting, but this isn't enough to express the marriage of the 19 year old author to a 42 year old counter-culture-type. At this point, I think the food memoir genre begins to get in the way of the autobiographical goals. In fact, sometimes I felt as if it was a way to avoid dealing with lots of issues in the author's life.<br /><br />The second half of the book documents the author's successes writing and having his plays produced. (I must admit that I had never heard of his work, and was aware of this book only via a favorable review in the <span style="font-style: italic;">NYT Book Review</span> some time ago.) The later chapters also describe his development as a gay person, though this is not done with much depth. He seems to have finally settled down with his co-author Michael Domitrovich, but Domitrovich's role as a significant other and co-author is not particularly elaborated.<br /><br />Only when Machado returns to Cuba to present one of his works in a theater festival does the food theme return effectively, representing his homecoming and coming to terms with his Cuban identity. It's never as clear and iconic as it was in the first few chapters, though. Too bad.<br /><br />I recently ordered this and two other food memoirs from my long list of books to read. So I'll be adding more to these thoughts. Incidentally, these books were all very heavily discounted -- I wonder if that represents a softening of interest in the subject. <span style="font-style: italic;">Tastes Like Cuba</span> only cost $1.08 (no shipping, I'm an Amazon Prime subscriber) for the hardcover -- I wonder if there will ever be a paperback.<br /><br />For a completely different point of view about this book, see <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/13/books/review/Kamiya-t.html?scp=1&sq=Eduardo%20Machado%20Domitrovich&st=cse"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>Tastes Like Cuba - <strong>Eduardo Machado</strong> - Book Review.</a>

Food Memoirs: "Tastes Like Cuba"

What are the limitations of a food memoir? Eduardo Machado's memoir Tastes Like Cuba: An Exile's Hunger for Home reads like an obje...

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Not the Cake Doctor

Cake mix would produce good results even if it was formulated with dried egg in the batter, but manufacturers have found that women feel more creative if they add eggs, not just water. Or so long-ago rumors said. This was part of the commonly-held, probably correct lore that told us that Betty Crocker, Duncan Hines, and their competitors had determined the formulation of cake mix by a process of laboratory science combined with market research.<br /><br />I do know that the cake-mix producers did market research, because my mother and I participated in it. I think I was in around fifth or sixth grade at the time. Our neighbor Mrs. Rosen had a job organizing survey participants on a variety of topics. She recruited my mother, who allowed me to help her bake the cakes from the plain white numbered boxes with separate instruction sheets. We followed the instructions, ate the cakes -- with my sister, brother, and father of course, and filled out the questionnaires. I don't remember whether we preferred adding eggs to not adding eggs. I think we did prefer a yellow cake to a white cake. I felt very important to be involved, using my mother's fairly new Mixmaster to beat the batter.<br /><br />For layer cakes, I still tend to use cake mixes. If I want plain cake layers, I think cake mixes give a fine result. I admit, however, that I'm a bit challenged when it comes to stacking up and frosting the layers. And I don't get fancy about it -- I admire <span style="font-style: italic;">The Cake Doctor</span> only from afar. Her methods require too much skill.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIc6aO0sYKRv0pY2dHNTHP77cQH1CrA_YgkOh_pnd6bQco55e5QG-9PDglVa2u08vG2rlTAEK4gAv96od5O1CJ-YkRS_mvhX85DytiBFUVavzRDzkgD2nZoRt77CA3NnXoKlV-WeDHnRob/s1600/cake3887.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506758765165940450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIc6aO0sYKRv0pY2dHNTHP77cQH1CrA_YgkOh_pnd6bQco55e5QG-9PDglVa2u08vG2rlTAEK4gAv96od5O1CJ-YkRS_mvhX85DytiBFUVavzRDzkgD2nZoRt77CA3NnXoKlV-WeDHnRob/s400/cake3887.jpg" style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" /></a>Yesterday I was baking a layer cake for Lenny's birthday. A few seconds after I put the layers together, the top layer slid off the bottom layer.<br /><br />Oops.<br /><br />The room-temperature Trader Joe's lemon curd I used between them was too runny to hold them together. (I love TJ's lemon curd -- the jar lists only good ingredients, unlike some of the lemon curd jars in ordinary grocery stores.)<br /><br />You can see from the photo that I subsequently put the cake back together with poultry skewers -- clean ones, naturally -- and chilled it, hoping that the lemon curd would stiffen up enough to keep the top layer in its place. I took out each skewer in turn while I applied the cake frosting. (Unlike cake mix and TJ's lemon curd, I think only home made frosting will do. Every time I bake a cake, I scan the splattered pages of my <span style="font-style: italic;">Joy of Cooking</span> til I find the one I want. This time, lemon.)<br /><br />It worked! When it was time to serve the cake, I pulled the skewers out and the cake stayed put while I sliced it. It was delicious.<br /><br />Just after I put the cake in the refrigerator with its skewers in place, Ruby called, and I described what I was doing. So she told me a story of how she was once assembling a cake, when the phone rang -- in the old days, she said, when all phones were wired so she was tethered in place across the room from the cake. As she talked, she saw her layers slide from the newly assembled cake onto the floor, but couldn't get there in time to save them. I was lucky -- my layer had only slid onto the edge of the large cake plate and I rescued it quickly.<br /><br />Also I remembered a few years ago, when I baked a birthday cake for my friend Ellen. That time, the problem wasn't that I failed on the construction but that I missed the right proportions for the frosting. The result looked so childishly frosted that Ellen started to laugh when she looked at it, explaining that her mother also could never get the frosting nicely onto the cake.<br /><br />This time, I got the frosting right. But I definitely feel challenged when it comes to baking layer cakes.

Not the Cake Doctor

Cake mix would produce good results even if it was formulated with dried egg in the batter, but manufacturers have found that women feel mor...

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Michigan Wine

I normally don't have anything to say about wine -- I just like to drink it. But this morning's <span style="font-style: italic;">L.A. Times </span>has an article on top of the front page (if that's what you call the home page of an online newspaper) featuring Michigan's 100 wineries! Also a few from Illinois, but mostly Michigan. The article summarizes the common view that wines from the Midwest are sweet and not very good -- and then describes how they are improving and gaining recognition and fans.<br /><br />See this: <a href="http://www.latimes.com/business/la-fi-midwest-wineries-20100817,0,6923906.story">Midwest makes case for its wines </a><br /><a href="http://www.latimes.com/business/la-fi-midwest-wineries-20100817,0,6923906.story"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://www.latimes.com/media/alternatethumbnails/blurb/2010-08/53566836-17021008.jpg" width="400" /></a> <br />I've had Michigan wine from time to time, though I haven't become a serious customer. Given the terrible economy here, I hope the article predicts great things for this one area of our agriculture.

Michigan Wine

I normally don't have anything to say about wine -- I just like to drink it. But this morning's L.A. Times has an article on top of ...

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Black Orchids and Corned-Beef Hash

<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPhdrmZIG0XY4OOuatpNaQP7GEaaosi8nJIBpNXHsAGkNwVJRZtXqh31XMRpZM9nLCwA4FMIeW0rjz5Bp2mefuRRSYJhsvzwzCnnXC5NrmChXWlw4mJt85SaygCpOkbsDqe19nF7knQZrx/s1600/orchid.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505784121708620226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPhdrmZIG0XY4OOuatpNaQP7GEaaosi8nJIBpNXHsAGkNwVJRZtXqh31XMRpZM9nLCwA4FMIeW0rjz5Bp2mefuRRSYJhsvzwzCnnXC5NrmChXWlw4mJt85SaygCpOkbsDqe19nF7knQZrx/s400/orchid.jpg" style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 366px;" /></a>Nero Wolfe had unusual taste. He grew orchids and experimented with recipes that by modern standards (and probably also those of his own time) were plebeian. In <span style="font-style: italic;">Black Orchids</span>, exotic black orchids serve as a backdrop to murder, and excite a weak point in the sort-of infallible detective.<br /><br />I don't even know if there's such a thing as a black orchid: the few plants that Nero Wolfe obtained were unique in the whole world so I guess Rex Stout didn't really think there were any. I think orchids look more like the ones in the Botanical Gardens near Hilo that I photographed a few years ago. Nero Wolfe loved the rarity, and for that was willing to do detective work that he might otherwise scorn. He spent a good part of each day in his orchid greenhouses, which play a role in every Nero Wolfe mystery I've read thus far.<br /><br />Wolfe was willing to go the extra bit for a recipe (in some books, more than a bit). I find it odd that the recipes in the books I've read are not in the least what I would call an exotic. In the book <span style="font-style: italic;">Black Orchids</span>, the great and large detective is seeking<span style="font-style: italic;"></span> a recipe for a perfect corned-beef hash. Lowly corned-beef hash. If it wasn't lowly, why would a cheap restaurant be called a hash house? Well, that's my opinion, not the master's.<br /><br />Nero Wolfe was delighted when a southern belle named Maryella revealed the secret ingredient for corned beef hash to Wolfe and his cook Fritz. She came into the kitchen (she was involved with some quite dubious characters, but pure, and coming in because she was a witness to something in a case). She leaned over. She peered into the bowl where Wolfe's hands were about to go into a corned-beef mixture and --<br /><blockquote style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;">"Excuse me," she said... "but corned beef hash is one of my specialties. Nothing in there but meat, is there?"<br /><br />"As you see," Wolfe grunted.<br /><br />Wolfe scowled at her. I [that's Archie, Wolfe's sidekick and the narrator] could see he was torn with conflicting emotions. A female in his kitchen was an outrage. A woman criticizing his or Fritz's cooking was an insult. But corned beef hash was one of life's toughest problems, never yet solved by anyone. To tone down the corned flavor and yet preserve its unique quality, to remove the curse of its dryness without making it greasy -- the theories and experiments had gone on for years. He scowled at her, but he didn't order her out. ...<br /><br />"Now you just calm down." Maryella's hand was on his arm. "It's not ruined, only it's better if it's coarser. That's far too much potatoes for that meat. But if you don't have chitlins you cant ---"<br /><br />"Chitlins," Wolfe bellowed.<br /><br />Maryella nodded. "Fresh pig chitlins. That's the secret of it. Fried shallow in olive oil with onion juice."</span></blockquote>So the secret ingredient in the plebeian corned-beef hash is the even more plebeian chitlins. Corned-beef hash one of life's toughest problems? Chitlins a cosmic solution? Is Rex Stout playing a joke on all his readers? The book was written before I was born, so I think the cultural and food environment has changed so much that I might never know.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzQ78hZMP6BhJJctBV6k7kLQfuJCRievmqyTXXvHgi550IOmlugFPWDq2Q8rXGGeDq3RXVRRT5x5acIyRnfcnxdApqQaICP-GpajTyxRLebAbKZPuGjmkaJ6VHsGa7vuiwFAxDTTt8OQOZ/s1600/wolfe-toon.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505784130106503634" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzQ78hZMP6BhJJctBV6k7kLQfuJCRievmqyTXXvHgi550IOmlugFPWDq2Q8rXGGeDq3RXVRRT5x5acIyRnfcnxdApqQaICP-GpajTyxRLebAbKZPuGjmkaJ6VHsGa7vuiwFAxDTTt8OQOZ/s400/wolfe-toon.jpg" style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 380px;" /></a>At least one other blogger has commented on Nero Wolfe and his recipes, mentioning a cookbook dedicated to the detective's culinary creations. This blogger even found the delightful cartoon. See: <a href="http://somecamerunning.typepad.com/some_came_running/2009/10/saturday-brunch-and-my-latest-get-rich-quick-scheme.html">Some Came Running...</a><br /><br />As the blog author wrote: "I can still envision the comic possibilities inherent in the spectacle of my cleaning several pounds of pig chitlins for homemade corned-beef hash."

Black Orchids and Corned-Beef Hash

Nero Wolfe had unusual taste. He grew orchids and experimented with recipes that by modern standards (and probably also those of his own tim...

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Making a Daube (or Stew)

<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/12003515@N05/4889758808/" title="daube2 by mesander2000, on Flickr"><img alt="daube2" height="500" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4082/4889758808_f49a88cb5a.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />Daube is one of our favorite French dishes.<br /><br />This week, Michigan veal was available. I bought a shank that had been sliced with the bone in, and I further cut it into small pieces. I browned it, added vegetables, herbs and a piece of orange rind, simmered, overnight aged it, and then baked it for dinner. The orange rind adds something essential. My friend Michelle showed me how to make this in her kitchen in Provence.<br /><br />The marrow from inside the bones was really delicious. What fun!

Making a Daube (or Stew)

Daube is one of our favorite French dishes. This week, Michigan veal was available. I bought a shank that had been sliced with the bone in, ...

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Deep Fried at the Indiana State Fair

Deep fried butter, deep fried Oreos, deep fried Pepsi, deep fried peanut butter cups, Krispy Kreme burgers ...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLDZHW1xa8Cwfi8wuSqL12B9eAnlEoNkR5GAVY4feyfRxlAKZrnrhX6IyeRT6PURB-YZ123C5gQ8icULiOnb5efZBvVRd92KiOvNhhZgV2iHsYT2FDGevrnUE0zVOAnwTl8S7C8lwxqOmV/s1600/deepfried2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504128508298983138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLDZHW1xa8Cwfi8wuSqL12B9eAnlEoNkR5GAVY4feyfRxlAKZrnrhX6IyeRT6PURB-YZ123C5gQ8icULiOnb5efZBvVRd92KiOvNhhZgV2iHsYT2FDGevrnUE0zVOAnwTl8S7C8lwxqOmV/s400/deepfried2.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwN_1HiAwHQJUxzhswCIV7r9JdQ5VynbHlk7MPvF5Ab_Yv-Ie60omu6TLX8lhPc8X824jgOm5Janx8cSPrAcdFjh4-yISZ21N0HZXnuIhB623Yspne23EIC_D05253Zl65peczs25tkm3u/s1600/deepfried3.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504128521272993970" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwN_1HiAwHQJUxzhswCIV7r9JdQ5VynbHlk7MPvF5Ab_Yv-Ie60omu6TLX8lhPc8X824jgOm5Janx8cSPrAcdFjh4-yISZ21N0HZXnuIhB623Yspne23EIC_D05253Zl65peczs25tkm3u/s400/deepfried3.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; width: 308px; height: 400px;" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPzOVrNG2i2QvDH5YjeuaN5sE9piI_JqgSWMLVMHDFPXUksVSw1V-MiKwy_H9cE9mAA40wQxHb1ASf5bEAcoUOOM62m6lxPXxrsUKKYqLyjyoEBryfDJ7o0WinriUPvrJhMtScZeTwLJ5R/s1600/deepfried1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504128504775138994" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPzOVrNG2i2QvDH5YjeuaN5sE9piI_JqgSWMLVMHDFPXUksVSw1V-MiKwy_H9cE9mAA40wQxHb1ASf5bEAcoUOOM62m6lxPXxrsUKKYqLyjyoEBryfDJ7o0WinriUPvrJhMtScZeTwLJ5R/s400/deepfried1.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 240px;" /></a><br />Jim Venable, a friend of my sister's, sent me these photos of the Indiana State Fair showing Deep Fried Everything. In contrast, a hospital had a booth encouraging people to eat more healthy food!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8bcwJBF97s8vh-F419XCBr_qdw1Xgws3LkCMiqjMe9Eey3sIrl6ykM56ViPL50qfdx84cEdCDPn1M0pzYEnHE3QlljLVBKzGKAZlWR9mcGMwORAlDNJTC5x3fuSPKFl2Wx9Wj_BtqSNx-/s1600/deepfried4.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504128525511698050" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8bcwJBF97s8vh-F419XCBr_qdw1Xgws3LkCMiqjMe9Eey3sIrl6ykM56ViPL50qfdx84cEdCDPn1M0pzYEnHE3QlljLVBKzGKAZlWR9mcGMwORAlDNJTC5x3fuSPKFl2Wx9Wj_BtqSNx-/s400/deepfried4.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" /></a><br /> <br />Jim wrote:<br /><blockquote>"St Vincent’s did have a large presence at the fair. Which we thought was somewhat ironic given the lack of healthy food. There was one food vendor that offered salads, vegetable kabobs and some low fat turkey sandwiches. Everything else was typical fair fare.<br /><br />"We started the day healthy with salads and veggies. We were good. But we did allow ourselves to sample the temptations of the deep fried world."</blockquote>

Deep Fried at the Indiana State Fair

Deep fried butter, deep fried Oreos, deep fried Pepsi, deep fried peanut butter cups, Krispy Kreme burgers ... Jim Venable, a friend of my s...

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Chicago Dining

<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/12003515@N05/4876644747/" title="chicagofood by mesander2000, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4100/4876644747_c92aac1d99_b.jpg" /></a><br /><br />Mercat a la Planxa restaurant is nearly across the street from the Chicago Institute of Arts. They specialize in tapas. We had several marvelous dishes: garlic shrimp, jamon serrano; white anchovies with pancetta, goat cheese and pine nuts on flatbread; saffron noodles with clams and squid, lamb brochettes, and green bean salad. It's a mystery to me (and to others I know) why tapas actually seem better in the US than in some parts of Spain. The waitress pointed out that their style is Catalan, which is probably better. Every bite was delicious. I definitely have some experimenting to do -- some of the dishes could probably be recreated in my kitchen. I already have a recipe for garlic shrimp.<br /><br />Breakfast was at Yolk, which is closer to the Field Museum where we were heading on Sunday morning. In the corner of the collage you can see my waffle with yogurt, granola, and strawberries and a glimpse of Len's French Toast.

Chicago Dining

Mercat a la Planxa restaurant is nearly across the street from the Chicago Institute of Arts. They specialize in tapas. We had several marve...

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