Why We Love Chicago in the Summer
Well, why do we? For starters, just step outside. The lake is sparkling, the air is warm, people look genuinely glad to be alive, and the city crackles with activity. Here are just some of the reasons why we love Chicago best right now
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Illustration: Juliette Borda  |
...Because It's Not So Much What You Did Last Summer; It's What You Dreamed About Doing
What I remember most about summers in Chicago is not what my best friend, Eric, and I did, but what we didn't do. For instance, we didn't take up Eric's sister on her suggestion that we drive south to Soldier Field, sit on the hood of a car, and try to listen to the Springsteen concert from the parking lot because none of us had had the presence of mind to buy tickets. We never quit school to spend a year in L.A. writing screenplays. We didn't buy lanterns at Manzelman's Hardware in order to play late-night basketball at Chippewa Park. I never summoned up the nerve to ask for a date with Gwen Billings. Or June Newberry. Or Demetra Karras.
And then there was the week in early June when Eric and I sat with a Casio keyboard in the backyard of my folks' house on Mozart Street, composing hip-hop songs for our rap group, the one that we were planning to call Big Mac and the Pounders. Eric thought that we had at least an album's worth of material-romantic songs like "(She's Just a) Nice Girl," topical numbers like "(Her Name Was) Flo-Jo," anthems like "Doin' the Penguin." But the project stalled on the second night of rehearsal when we realized that my rhythm was off, and so was Eric's pitch. And besides, our $10 Radio Shack portable tape recorder would hardly have been sufficient to produce a professional-sounding demo cassette.
Which left us heading back once again to the beach, where we would skip stones, gaze out at the skyline, drink 32-ounce Cokes, and dream aloud about what we would do with the rest of our summer.
During those hot nights on Lunt Avenue Beach, there was always a new plan. We would build a raft out of planks of wood, line it with milk cartons, and sail it all the way to Michigan. Or we'd grow beards and drive out into the wilderness in my mom's gold 1978 Volvo GL. Or we would start a radical political newspaper called The Free Press, and distribute copies in front of City Hall. Or we'd rent video cameras from Triangle Camera and make a stellar independent film, presumably in one take, because neither of us owned or knew how to use editing equipment. Or, as soon as morning arrived, maybe we would head down to Lyons Office Supply on Devon Avenue to buy a plastic sheet of rub-off letters and a burnishing instrument, with which we would make fake IDs so that we could buy liquor at Armanetti's or get past the bouncers at Club 950, Octagon, or Metro. Just so we wouldn't have to spend another pathetic night dancing at Medusa's, then returning to the beach.
Somehow, though, we never got very far in our plans.
Eric drew the sketches for the raft, but I was a lousy swimmer, and intentionally forgot to purchase the necessary lumber. Our macho road trip ended up as one night frightened of wild animals in a campsite outside Madison, Wisconsin. I went downtown to the Marquette Building to interview former Republican mayoral candidate Bernard Epton for the inaugural issue of The Free Press, but we lost interest in our newspaper after it took more than a day to lay out a page. We did shoot about 20 minutes of footage for a video, but when we met Charlie Sheen on the beach-he was in town filming a real movie called Lucas-we felt embarrassed by our amateurish project, and lost heart. And, yes, we really did make some fake IDs (highly unconvincing driver's licenses from Massachusetts), but when we hit the liquor store and attempted to purchase a bottle of Night Train, the guy at the register didn't even card us. We wound up taking two swigs of the vile fluid, then burying the bottle atop the toboggan hill in Warren Park, vowing that one day we would return to dig it up.
We never did.
What we actually did was take our piddling salaries from our summer jobs and internships to buy gas, burgers, and pop, then drive from one end of the city to the other and back again, taking side streets the whole way, blasting cassette tapes by Lonnie Brooks, The Ventures, and Falco, talking about how we would spend the next night, and the rest of our lives.
A few years after graduating from college, I met a local film producer in Printer's Row to discuss a script I had written about two teenagers in Chicago, and what they did on their last summer before college.
"But nothing happens," she said. "It's all setup with no payoff. All they do is drive around, hang out by the lake, and talk about what they're going to do; they never actually do anything."
Exactly. That was my kind of summer.
–Adam Langer
Cold Comfort, Part II: Ten Frozen Delights
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Photography: Nathan Kirkman |
1. Made from rich, creamy frozen custard, the Boston Shake at Scooter's in Lake View is a milk shake topped with a chocolate sundae-decadence worthy of a Roman orgy (Scooter's Frozen Custard, 1658 W. Belmont Ave.; 773-244-6415. $5.24).
2. The Mexicana Shake at Hyde Park's stalwart eatery will perk up even the dourest University of Chicago grad student: the extrathick vanilla shake is spiked with Mexican chocolate for a beguiling hint of cinnamon (Medici, 1327 E. 57th St.; 773-667-7394. $3.50).
3. Fans of Wisconsin's Chocolate Shoppe brand of super-premium ice cream will rejoice upon receiving the gargantuan portion at Sweet Occasions and More: a whopping seven-ounce single scoop, surely the best deal in the city (Sweet Occasions and More, 5306 N. Clark St.; 773-275-5190, plus two other city locations. $2.85).
4. At the Ritz-Carlton, executive pastry chef Anthony Chavez offers a gourmet blueberry cheesecake sundae: sapphire blueberry sorbet, silky graham cracker ice cream, fresh fruit sauce, and, just when you thought you'd reached the farthest outpost of indulgence, chunks of house-made cheesecake (The Ritz-Carlton; 160 E. Pearson St.; 312-266-1000. $12).
5. Push aside the tourists and go off menu when ordering Ghirardelli's Strike It Rich sundae, which ascends from classic to outstanding when you sub in dark chocolate fudge (Ghirardelli, 830 N. Michigan Ave.; 312-337-9330. $6.95).
6. Hands down, the best hot fudge is at Margie's, where customers form a line around the block for the thick yet pourable chocolate sauce. The joint gets bonus points for serving it on the side (Margie's Candies, 1960 N. Western Ave.; 773-384-1035. $3.95 for a classic sundae).
7. The Macaroon Crumble sundae at this recently opened outpost of a California chain is crowned with crumbles of buttery cookie goodness atop marshmallow and fudge sauces (Billy Berk's, 3 Westfield Old Orchard Shopping Center, Skokie; 847-763-4600. $6.95).
8. The mascarpone gelato may be only the best of several outstanding flavors (try the pistachio and blueberry) at this low-key South Loop chocolate maker (Canady le Chocolatier, 824 S. Wabash Ave.; 312-212-1270. $3.50 for a large).
9. Since the 1930s, Mitchell's has been cranking out its renowned chocolate chip ice cream, a rich vanilla shot through with chocolate chips. Make it a double (Mitchell's Candies & Ice Cream, 18211 Dixie Hwy., Homewood; 708-799-3835. $3.60 for two scoops).
10. We grant that the locally themed dessert menu at the Chicago Chocolate Company is hokey and pandering. Still, we couldn't stop eating the South Side Sundae, two scoops of vanilla, chocolate, or mint-chocolate-chip ice cream topped with almonds covered in chocolate and loads of whipped cream (Chicago Chocolate Company, 847 W. Randolph St.; 888-568-1733. $4.99).
Take It Outside: 10 Ways to Get Your Sweat On
Golf
Calories burned per hour*: 300
If you walk for 18 holes-typically about three and a half miles-while shouldering a 15-pound bag, a round of golf will burn calories and tone your core. Off the course, load up on bicycle crunches, which mimic a torso's rotation through a swing.
Gardening
Calories burned per hour*: 270
Trade the crouching position for more muscle-engaging stances-lunging with your front leg bent and back leg straight is particularly effective. Then pull out the non-motorized lawnmower and a rake.
Calisthenics
Calories burned per hour*: 600
Tackle two or three circuits of the wood-and-metal exercise stations-also known as the Perrier Parcourse-that run south from Belmont Harbor in Lincoln Park (and elsewhere along the lakefront). Jog in place between circuits to keep your heart rate up.
Basketball
Calories burned per hour*: 700 (full-court)
Talented high schoolers and college athletes bring their pickup game to the courts at 63rd Street and Lake Shore Drive, which have been known to attract the occasional NBA player. Foster Park (1440 W. 84th St.) is another competitive venue.
Kayaking
Calories burned per hour*: 350
Paddle your way down the Chicago and Des Plaines rivers and around Lake Michigan in a sleek fiberglass kayak. The Chicago Kayak Club (www.chicagokayak.com) offers excursions and Chicago River Canoe & Kayak (www.chicagoriverpaddle.com) rents boats by the hour.
Swimming
Calories burned per hour*: 800
Dive into the lake at Monroe Harbor (100 N. Harbor Dr.), which is patrolled by city lifeguards. To maintain a straight course, you'll need to practice what triathletes call "sighting": looking forward as you turn your head to breathe.
Running
Calories burned per hour*: 600 to 800
Energize a routine gone stale by introducing fartlek (Swedish for "speed play") runs once a week: after a ten-minute warm-up, run hard for two minutes and recover for one. Repeat seven or eight times. Advanced runners should increase the hard run to four minutes.
Tai Chi
Calories burned per hour*: 280
On July 16th, take a free class at 8 a.m. on the lawn in front of the Jay Pritzker Pavilion. Throughout the summer, the Chicago Botanic Garden (1000 Lake Cook Rd., Glencoe; 847-835-5440) offers an outdoor tai chi class for beginners on Thursdays from 8 to 9 a.m.
Ultimate Frisbee
Calories burned per hour*: 240
Ultimate Chicago's friendly coed league plays on Mondays and Wednesdays through August 10th, at 6:30 p.m., in a variety of locations (www.ultimatechicago.org). Bring up to three friends, but remember that the league enforces a strict five-to-two male/female ratio.
Volleyball
Calories burned per hour*: 560
Sharpen your spiking skills at one of Players Sports' outdoor clinics. The next session, to be held at North Avenue Beach, begins in mid-August (www.playerssports.net). Then go online to find a team through Chicago Sport and Social Club's excellent message boards (www.chicagosportandsocial.com).
*Based on a 150-pound person.
Outdoor music sprouts up around Memorial Day and flourishes until a few weeks after Labor Day, when it's too cold for lips on a brass mouthpiece. With almost too many options, dare we say, we solicited some expert advice on which acts coming this summer are a must-listen.
"The Stephen Sondheim [July 14th through 16th] is a huge deal," says James Palermo, artistic and general director of the Grant Park Music Festival (www.grantparkmusicfestival.com). Stars of musical theatre, including Scarface actress Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio, Liz Callaway, and Northwestern alum Brian d'Arcy James, will sing Sondheim classics on July 14th and 15th (Palermo hopes the composer himself will be in the audience). Palermo also recommends the percussion-centric symphony by the contemporary Australian composer Carl Vine (programmed with the always-popular Carmina Burana), on July 19th and 22nd. Welz Kauffman, the president and CEO of Ravinia (www.ravinia.org), told us to catch the Chicago Symphony Orchestra's three-day superstar showcase, August 4th to 6th. Violin virtuoso Gil Shaham, star soprano Renée Fleming, and cellist Yo-Yo Ma will perform in successive concerts, the third of which features Ma premièring a piece by Argentinian/Israeli orchestral composer Osvaldo Golijov, whose music deftly weaves together classical, jazz, Latin American rhythms, and klezmer. Art Lange, chairman of the programming committee of the Chicago Jazz Festival (www.cityofchicago.org; search for "chicago jazz festival"), says September 2nd is the night to see the tight, talented Joe Lovano Nonet, a nine-piece band that revisits the radical instrumentation of the Birth of the Cool combo led by Miles Davis. Saxophone legend Lee Konitz, who played on Birth, will conduct a workshop for young musicians on Friday, September 1st (it's free to attend), and perform over the weekend. The Evanston Starlight Concerts series (www.cityofevanston.org/departments/parks/starlight.shtml), which visits three parks in Evanston on Tuesdays and Thursdays, this year features rockabilly stars Big Sandy & His Fly-Rite Boys, a favorite of Evanston's cultural arts director, Jeff Cory. They play at 7:30 p.m. on July 25th at Dawes Park. Another act to catch, says Cory, is Cordero, an indie-rock band from Brooklyn with a Latin flair; they perform on July 13th at 7:30 p.m. at James Park.
–Graham Meyer
Like some benevolent strain of bird flu, a game called cornhole has invaded the yards, alleys, sidewalks, and taverns of Chicago in the past few years. The game-somewhat like horseshoes minus the potential for deadly brainings with flying iron hoofwear-requires participants to toss soft canvas bags filled with corn kernels about 30 feet toward a sloping plywood ramp with a hole at the far end; they score points by getting the bag to drop through the six-inch hole (hence the game's name) or stick on the ramp.
Though cornhole's origins are murky at best, future scholars will trace the dawn of the game's modern era to the turn of the new millennium, when it began sprouting up in the backyards of Cincinnati like a cicada infestation. Within a few years it spread to other regions. Mike Whitton, founder and president of the three-year-old Cincinnati-based American Cornhole Association (www.playcornhole.org), reports that about 20 percent of his organization's 10,000 members are in Illinois, mostly in Chicago-now arguably cornhole's second city. A group called ChicagoCornhole operates leagues with 80 teams competing at two North Side taverns (new leagues start in July; go to www.chicagocornhole.com).
Why the game caught on, as any avid cornholer will tell you, is a no-brainer. It's infectious fun, the equipment can be set up virtually anywhere, and the skills required are so minimal anyone can play. It demands close to zero exertion, which makes it an ideal activity for cookouts and tailgates-something to do between the lighting of the charcoal and the burning of the brats.
While the American Cornhole Association has codified the game's equipment specifications and rules, there's no agreed-upon technique for putting the bag in the hole or near it. Dave Rapp, who claims to be the cornhole king of the La Grange Fire Department, where he's a lieutenant, recommends holding the edge of the bag with your fingertips rather than resting it like a softball in the palm. My Cincinnati brother-in-law, Mike, is a master of the Frisbee-style spinner, which lands flat and slides smoothly to the hole-or can be laid up shy of the hole to create a "blocker." The cornhole association's Whitton advises getting plenty of loft on your throws-the more vertical the descent, the less likely the bag is to skid off the ramp. He offers one more solemn bit of wisdom: "By holding a beer in your non-throwing hand, you'll have better balance and accuracy." Just be sure to sip yours while egging on your opponents to guzzle themselves sloppy. In a game where no lead is safe, every advantage helps.
–Shane Tritsch
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He's wearing camo bermuda swim shorts that come to rest beneath his hairless, ripped torso. She's wearing a Burberry string bikini that enhances her perfectly sculpted assets. Sipping slushies poolside, they're among other hard-bodied tanorexics populating the rooftop deck at the East Bank Club. After all, it's summer and this is where the city's affluent unattached come to display what they've been working on all winter. If the East Bank Club is its own small city, made up of more than 10,000 members, then the rooftop pool area-a sprawling 60,000-square-foot lido deck-is its most visible subculture.
Lori Armon, a member since 2001 and the director of corporate PR for Hyatt Corporation, offers this helpful guide to the three-tiered terrain: "Regulars know that the ones who sit on the upper deck by the pool are the people who want to be seen. The people on the second tier want to be seen just enough for the scenesters to say, ‘Hey!' as they keep walking up to the main level. And the ones on the lowest level, well, they probably just got there late."
But single adults aren't the only ones served. Hip parents, like Geoff Alexander, the director of operations for Shaw's Crab House, take advantage of the communal vibe at the wading pool. "The kids can play, and parents can relax, catch up, and network," says Alexander, the 35-year-old divorced dad of Morgan, 7. "It's great, because I can watch your child while you enjoy the pool, and then you can watch mine and let me take a swim." Alexander has been dating Armon since last summer, when they got better acquainted at the kiddie pool. "Joining East Bank served its purpose for me," he says.
-Sarah Preston
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