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Chilly? Think Chili
A multi-bean cure for the common Chicago winter.
Monday Oct 30, 2006.     By Michael Nagrant
Centerstage Chicago Nightlife City Guide Arts

Mother Nature has spat upon us. Inefficient radiators and poorly caulked windows are rearing their ugly heads, and staving off the frost with jugs of port wine or visions of roaring fires will only last so long. You need an internal space heater, and there's no better version than a hearty bowl of chili. Here's a guide to some of Chicago's best bowls.

Try Cincinnati-style sweet chili at Ramova Grill
Greasy spoon meets greased palms at the Ramova Grill, which lies a few blocks north of the 11th Ward Democratic headquarters (the political birthplace of the Daley clan) in Bridgeport. The prices, like the decor, are a throwback (a burger and fries costs $2.25), and the plate glass window frosts with condensation from the heat of the overworked grill in the winter. Homemade in 50-gallon batches, the chili is saucy mix of meat and beans with a sweet tinge of cinnamon and allspice. Accompanied by a side of shredded cheese and diced onions, this is the best example of Greek/Cincinnati-style chili served in Chicago.

Heat it up Mexican-style at Chuck's Southern Comforts Cafe
The drive may be long to this south-of-Midway suburb, but the taste of the chili will stay with you much longer. One look at the sign of a ravenous cartoon pig wielding a fork and knife will verify that this place is serious about food. Chuck's bowl of "red" topped with sour cream, chopped cilantro and fresh deep-fried corn tortilla strips is the best bowl I could find. Unlike many chilis brewed with expired spices, the aromatics used in this bowl would have satisfied Marco Polo. The chili's chocolate finish is reminiscent of Frontera Grill's famous moles, which makes sense, since proprietor Chuck Pine once worked with Rick Bayless.

Beans and beef meet nostalgia at Lindy and Gertie's
Open since 1924, the double strip of colored neon light buzzes incessantly, while a black and white photo of Harry Caray getting spoon fed by a buxom Lindy's waitress hovers over families parked in wooden bench-style booths. One upping the Billy Goat, this Archer institution doesn't serve Coke or Pepsi, just straight up Royal Crown, and the burgers and fries take a backseat to the ice cream and chili, a beefy mix with a thick coating of sauce and a hint of spice, served with Lindy's private-label oyster crackers. If you really like it, you can back your truck up to the door and load a 55-gallon drum of the stuff into the bed for $2,299.

Go cheap and hearty at Wild Goose Bar & Grill
This place has more plasma than a Red Cross blood-mobile, with almost one television per square foot, and serves chili that will warm even the most sedentary armchair quarterback. Any Texan worth his salt will tell you that real Lone Star chili doesn't have beans, but despite this misstep, the Texas Chili, a hearty blend served in a vintage ceramic crock, meets the rest of the criteria. With diced onion and a heavy sprinkling of shredded cheddar, it's a rich stew with thick hunks of farm-raised ground buffalo, peppers and chunky tomatoes. Best of all, on Wednesday nights, it's only 50 cents a bowl.

Get your chili green at Twisted Spoke
Biker joints and political correctness rarely go hand in hand, but brothers Mitch and Cliff Einhorn are always on the lookout for farm-grown and organic ingredients. Except for a few frozen appetizers, they strive to make their food "socially correct" and from scratch. There's no better way to taste this than in their "Bowl of Green" which includes hunks of pork shoulder floating in a tangy blend of tomatillos, green chilies and cilantro topped with tendrils of Chihuahua cheese. If you prefer your chili red, try the sans-beans Texas-style chili with hunks of steak. If you can't make up your mind, score a cup of both via the "chili sampler."

More bountiful bowls of the good stuff:

Cafe Selmarie Non-meat eaters can score a great veggie chili with hunks of tomato, green and red pepper, celery, rattlesnake beans and white cheddar cheese here.

Quenchers Saloon Beer aficionados can score a good bowl of Earle's famous chili, named for owner Earl Johnson.