When the weather gets hot in Chicago...

...there's only one thing to do: get the convertible out and drive down to Maxwell Street for an authentic Vienna Polish sausage with grilled onions and mustard. John and I went down there for dinner tonight and parked the Sebring across the street from those two venerable Chicago eateries, Jim's Original and the Express Grill on South Union Street. They're both outstanding but the Express Grill had the shorter line and that sealed the deal for us. I have to admit that I wavered for a brief second there and seriously considered the pork chop sandwich at the last minute. But John reminded me of our original mission and we both ordered the Polish, John's first ever.

In case you haven't eaten at the Express Grill, you order your meal at the window from a guy who barely speaks English (it's Chicago, remember?) and then place your money in a small plastic tray. I only figured that out after several uncomfortable moments of trying to hand the guy a ten and having him point to the tray. "Oh, it's kind of like a cab in New York; I get it." The guy behind the counter then takes the tray and gives it back to you with your change. I have no idea what that's all about, but whatever. There's no indoor seating at the Express Grill (or outdoor, for that matter) so after you get your order you sidle over to an aluminum shelf-like structure where you eat your food standing up and facing a wall, Chicago-style. Now I know how Bugs Moran and his gang must have felt just before they were gunned down on St. Valentine's Day all those years ago. I think I even glanced over my shoulder once or twice. I also kept a close eye on the guy behind the counter, just to make sure he didn't duck down when one of the many sinister-looking cars would drive up to the curb for a carry-out order. I figure you can't be too careful when you're only a stone's throw (or a stray bullet) away from Taylor Street, where there are plenty of guys in wife-beaters and two-toned shoes who are only too quick to tell you to "Mind yer own business, if you know what's good for ya."

Anyway, John gave it a big thumbs up and we both agreed that it hit the spot. You can't go wrong with a Polish, fries and an ice-cold lemonade served al fresco on a summer night in Chicago. Somebody should put a call out to Guy Fieri.