No I will not stop talking about hot dogs or how much I love Chicago, IL. Every meal I ate there involved hot dogs, tacos, or bacon. This meal, this magical final dinner of the trip, involved all three. A bacon-wrapped hot dog (covered in beans, salsa, crema and guacamole) with a taco al pastor kicker. I mean, ffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuccccckkkkk are you kidding me? AND the restaurant was called Big Star as if I could love it any more.
We had an early flight into Chicago and arrived at our hotel at 9:25 am on Thursday. I was expecting the sort of attitude you’d get in New York from the hotel, where they’d look at me as if I were crazy for daring to show up so early before check in time. Best case scenario I was hoping they’d store our bags until we could check in. Instead, the concierge grabbed our suitcase from us, and hustled us into the atrium saying, “Free breakfast is over at 9:30! Hurry up and get something to eat, then we’ll get you all checked into your room!” I was like, “Mom?”
THINGS I LOVE THAT ARE MENTIONED IN THIS POST
*Ever since I moved back to the Midwest I have craved hot dogs every single day. On Sunday I ate two, standing up, bunless, dipped in mustard. (The hot dogs were bunless and dipped in mustard. I was amply bunned and dipped in sunscreen.) I don’t think this is going to go away any time soon. I think it’s in the air. (See also: malted milkshakes.)