Chicago: Part 1.

By: Shauna Wright

I was lucky enough to spend a previous weekend in the charming city of Chicago. Although, admittedly, the time of our flight wasn’t so charming. Unless you’re a morning person, that is? Knowing what was required, I made a brisk walk to Alice’s at 11:45pm for a medium vanilla latte. My eyes needed a little bit of encouragement to remain open.

Before I knew it, Jade (fellow brit) and I had reached 5:00am and were waiting excitedly at gate D10 for our 6:06am flight. We reached the Chicago loop at, I want to say 9:00am, but who cares about specifics? Stepping out of LaSalle street station, I tilted my head to enable a clear view of the skyscrapers towering over me cold air skimming my face; I wasn’t fazed by the cold. After all, I was in… CHICAGO!

After walking around for a considerable amount of time with suitcases lagging lazily behind us, Jade and I eventually found a sweet little place called “Goddess and the Baker.” This was just the start of the fantastic food experiences we were yet to encounter during our time in Chicago. Tired, cold, and in yesterday’s makeup, we decided to take refuge and recharge in our hotel room. Being the foodie fanatic that I am, I did some prior-research into recommended restaurants. As soon as I saw the words “deep dish pizza” – let’s just say, it was love at first read. Giordano’s: I NEEDED to go there.

Getting to Giordano’s would require a walk through the Magnificent Mile, so it was the cliché killing two birds with one stone kind of situation. The Magnificent Mile truly was magnificent: Bright lights, busy atmosphere and buzzing conversations surrounded me. Interestingly, I did not feel intimidated by the formidability that the city possessed. Chicago had a warmth to it, despite the physicality of the cold air. After a not so quick browse in Dylan’s Candy Bar which resulted in a Cherry Cheesecake Fudge purchase, Jade and I went forth on our mission of finding and then eating abnormal amounts of pizza pie.

Like the discovering a light at the end of the tunnel was the feeling I had when I saw  the Giordano’s sign dazzling in the distance. Understandably packed at 8pm on a Friday night, we waited patiently to be seated. We ordered two medium Chicago classics; I’m not the type to share, particularly pizza.
Happily chatting away at our table, I saw it approaching us like a golden beacon of hope. I allowed the smell of fresh peppers and pepperoni to engulf my nostrils while reaching for a slice of the pizza pie. The thick stringy cheese, impressively, refused to part from the rest of the pie. Having not eaten since around 9:30am that day, I was annoyingly, but NOT apologetically enthusiastic. My first bite was a gorgeous burst of pure delight. The wait had made it that much better, if it was even possible for the pizza pie to be any more marvellous than it already was. All that I can say, to sum up how full I was after ploughing through the pizza pie, is thank goodness for the 20-minute walk back to the hotel.

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