Chicago fact-finding tour, 2017: A serene Chicago Botanic Garden, a bustling Chinatown and the re-delicious Baderbräu (Friday, July 7).

(backdated ... previously, day three)

The Chicago Botanic Garden is situated past even Evanston, roughly 23 miles north of the Loop. For this trip out of the urban area, we purchased tickets on the Metra suburban train, leaving from the Oglivie Transportation Center a couple of blocks from our hotel.

Alighting at Braeside, it was a 15-minute stroll to the Botanic Garden, which is free to enter. It's an impressive park.

The Chicago Botanic Garden opened more than 40 years ago as a beautiful place to visit, and it has matured into one of the world's great living museums and conservation science centers. In 2015, more than one million people visited the Garden's 27 gardens and four natural areas, uniquely situated on 385 acres on and around nine islands, with six miles of lake shoreline. The Garden also has a renowned Bonsai Collection.

For the Fitbitters among you, the fact that 10,000 steps had been recorded by the time we boarded the return train says it all.

Did I mention being with a Brit?

This train back to Chicago was packed with Cubs fans, as there was another afternoon game at Wrigley. It turns out that the Oglivie Transportation Center has a remarkable French Market food court. We bowed to temptation and ate Belgian-style frites with mayonnaise for lunch. I failed to properly examine the Montreal-style pastrami.

It's a trencherman's regret.

Having spent the morning in the north, it was time for a foray to the South Side and Chinatown, via the Red Line. The original plan was to eat there, but we'd already gorged on potatoes.

Still, having devoted a fair amount of time earlier this year reading and writing about Chinese food, it was a pleasure just to read the menus.

BOOK REVIEW: Chop Suey – or how Chinese food came to be taken for granted in America.

Our last visit to Chicago came in 2005. The cheapest hotel we could find was in Chinatown, and it was perfectly acceptable. We flew into Midway, bought public transport tickets, changed from Orange Line to the Red Line somewhere at the Loop, and noticed that the next stop past Cermak/Chinatown was (whatever the stadium that should be called Comiskey Park was named then), where the White Sox play.

Chinese restaurants: “Do you know why Americans don’t like eating meat with bones in it? They’re too lazy!”

The Chinese in Chicago have a long history, stretching to the 1860s grouped downtown, then with the establishment of the present-day Chinatown in 1912. Several blocks of Wentworth might as well be in Asia.

On the other hand, Chinatown is so American that McDonald's sponsors it. But a Chinese company might own McDonald's by now. It's moot.

After cursory shopping, it was determined that beer might restore our appetites. Diana delved into Google, and I was surprised to learn that a brewery was close by: Baderbräu, truly a name out of the past, though now doing business on S. Wabash, a 15-minute walk.

At the dawn of craft beer history in New Albany (that'd be 1992 or thereabouts), I traveled to Chicago for an interview with the State Department -- you don't want to know the sad details -- and while there, visited my first-ever American brewpub: Goose Island, long before it was absorbed by the Great Satan.

Soon I was involved with the Public House, and word came down through the grapevine that the finest beer in Chicago wasn't Goose at all. Rather, it was Baderbräu, which brewed only a Pilsener and a Bock, and was owned by the world's most incredible salesman, a former policeman named Ken Pavichevich.

Someone with connections in Chicago gave me his number, and I called him out of the blue to ask if we could get the Pilsener in Indiana. We had a few nice chats, and eventually he got some of his beer into the state, but unfortunately the brewery didn't last long.

For more on this story, old and new, go here. It's fascinating.

In any event, Baderbräu is back, with new owners, a few old recipes, and many new ones. The old/new Chicago Pilsener is just grand. After two of them, I was hungry; at this point, there was no use walking back to Chinatown, so our final Chicago meal became Reuben sandwiches and soft pretzels appetizers.

The best conceivable ending would have been a White Sox game, but the team was on the road.

If any loyal readers go to Chicago and drop by Baderbräu, please pick up some Chicago Pilsener for Papa. I'll happily pay cash for a couple six packs of cans, or even a case. 

On Friday, I didn't want to carry beer on the bus. So, we stopped at a bar on Randolph for a final Chicago drink, and motored out of town on Saturday morning ... with me probably ten pounds heavier, and with at least one of us craving steak & kidney pie, Marmite and a shandy.

Chicago fact-finding tour, 2017: Destiny's appointment on Thursday, July 6, with delectable food in Greektown and a nightcap at Monk's Pub.

(backdated; previously, there was a ballgame)

Now, for the appointment.

Diana's mother was born and raised in Plymouth, England. It's in the county of Devon, an area considered part of the West Country (or southwestern England). My wife's mom married a Mainer, and the rest is herstory, which took a fresh turn on July 6, when Diana reclaimed her mother's British nationality.

Diana now is a dual national, American and British. On a daily basis, there will be little if any change for us. You'll understand that this journey has been a deeply personal one, so there isn't much more that I care to add, apart from being very proud and 100% supportive that she has followed her conscience and honored her mother in this way.

It's why we went to Chicago, and with the appointment and ceremony concluded, we caught a bus back to the hotel, changed, and set out for Greektown on foot, perhaps a 20 minute walk.

Chicago's Greektown originally was located nearby. It was displaced by the expressway and a university expansion, and moved to the current location. I remember dining at one of the restaurant 25 years ago, and being told by the server that few Greeks still lived in the neighborhood, though they remained interested in preserving their collective heritage there.

I confess to Googling "best Greek restaurant in Chicago" and being told that the winner is Greek Islands, at least according to Trip Advisor.

Greek Islands bills itself as "America's most popular Greek restaurant," and a list of indie eateries in the United States shows it ranking 99th in gross sales, with just under $13 million in 2016.

Whatever. It was a damned fine meal.

We split warm and cold lima bean appetizers. Diana had a Greek salad with grilled chicken, and I dug into a savory plate of beef kapama with homemade noodles. My beverage of choice was a half-liter of Retsina, white wine with the subtle yet noticeable flavoring of pine sap.

The afternoon was hot and humid. We slowly made our way back to the hotel for a three-hour nap, venturing back outside at almost 7:30 p.m. for an ice cream on the Chicago Riverwalk, then a nightcap at Monk's Pub at Lake & Wells, just around the corner from the hotel.

In my case, make it three nightcaps and a salad. Diana was more restrained, but I took one look at the well-stocked Belgian contingent on the Monk's beer list and formed an immediate strategy.

St. Feuillien Grand Cru

Petrus Aged Red

Rochefort 10

Another great Chicago pub.

Next: Winding it up on Friday with a look at the Chicago Botanic Garden, Chinatown and a new/old brewery.

Chicago fact-finding tour, 2017: Cubs vs. Rays at Wrigley Field and the Red Lion Pub on Wednesday, July 5.

(backdated ... previously, we drank near the Haymarket)

It was my first visit to Wrigley Field for a game since the late 1980s, and Diana's first time ever.

The interleague matchup between the Cubs and Rays was slated for a 1:20 p.m. start, and as every real fan knows, there's nothing quite like day drinking in concert with day baseball. They go together like day drinking and day museum visits, or something like that.

From our downtown hotel, we had started the day by walking to Michigan Avenue via the Chicago Riverwalk (20 minutes), eventually boarding the Red Line at Grand, and emerging at Addison perhaps 20 minutes later.

Thinking back to the U2 show at Papa John's Cardinal Stadium in June, and how practically everyone in attendance drove in cars to get there, the joy of being able to ride to a ballgame on a subway train and walk a few hundred feet to enter the stadium ... to be able to drink and not worry about driving ...

It's simply priceless.

The Sports Corner Bar & Grill was as good a choice as any for baseball brunch, and we somehow managed to appear just as the doors opened, nabbing a sidewalk table in the shade and enjoying a healthy, restorative meal of loaded nachos and Chicago-style dogs.

This was our view of the Billy Williams and Ron Santo statues.

For my three beers before noon, I decided to try the same "import," three times) Urban Chestnut Schnickelfritz Bavarian Weissbier from St. Louis, in a big mouth tallboy can, one of the finest Hefeweizens I've ever had from an American brewery, and quite possibly the very best.

Diana did the modeling.

Our seats were at the very back of the grandstand on the first base side, completely sheltered from the sun on a day when a healthy breeze was blowing in from Lake Michigan. Too bad about the Budweiser sign; such are the indignities of life.

Of course, the late Harry Caray constantly pounded the ol' Budweiser, and rumors persist that during his many years in St. Louis, he sampled certain other pleasures pertaining to the Busch empire. We'll never know for sure, but Caray is immortalized with a press box image.

As for the game itself, the Cubs continued their 2017 struggles through the first five innings, meekly stranding a handful runners against an obscure Tampa starter named Snell. The Rays scratched out three runs by getting runners on base at the top of the order, stealing the occasional base and advancing others on grounders, with a couple of well-timed hits and a sacrifice fly to bring them home.

The lead had all the appearance of being safe, but Snell was relieved in the 6th by the reliever Ramirez, who came to the mound toting a huge gas can and blowtorch.

He promptly surrendered a three-run, pinch-hit homer from Jay, and the Cubs added four more runs in the last three innings against an imploding Tampa bullpen. The home crowd left happy.

Behind our seats on Addison, a large new mixed-use building is being constructed. We noticed that during the national anthem, activity stopped and the construction workers faced Wrigley with hard hats in hand.

Well played.

Later in the game, Diana noticed a strange phenomenon of hovering port-a-lets.

Perhaps Harvest Homecoming should consider these.

---

After the game, we strolled down Sheffield to Bittersweet Pastry on West Belmont, absorbed energy from sugar and caffeine, then hopped back on the subway for a quick ride to the Fullerton stop, and the Red Lion Pub on Lincoln Avenue.

An excellent short tap list at the Red Lion includes Bombardier, Fuller's London Pride, Fuller's ESB and Young's Double Chocolate Stout. Our evening meal consisted of Scotch eggs, chicken curry and bangers and mash, served in a gorgeous Anglo setting of wood, brick, books and booze. I'l borrow a website photo to make my case.

We chatted with the owner/bartender Colin, who apparently is somewhat the local legend, remarking that his pub is the last "adult" bar in the vicinity. A regular customer looked and acted like Joe Biden, and a couple from Australia were seated next to us at the bar.

I wish we could have made it back to the Red Lion for a longer session. Next time for sure. Wednesday evening closed with a walk along the Chicago Riverwalk, back to the hotel from Michigan Avenue.

Next: Some official paperwork, Greektown and Monk's Pub.

Chicago fact-finding tour, 2017: One or the other Haymarkets on Tuesday, July 4.

Greektown is right down Halsted ...

(backdated)

The Confidentials had an appointment in Chicago on July 6, and I'll have more to say about it. Why drive all the way up and back without spending a day or three seeing the town?

I'd have preferred an Airbnb in a place like Oak Park, but the last-minute nature of the exercise found the choicest rooms already booked. Diana gave Priceline a spin, and the result was an inexpensive room at the Kimpton Allegro downtown at Randolph and Wells in the theater district.

But when the parking costs as much as a discounted room, I recommend Spot Hero. It was flawless, and saved 60% off the hotel's parking fee. The car was 100 feet away in a garage across the street. Granted, there are restrictions. We knew we'd be walking or riding CTA with 3-day passes ($20), so it was worth it to let the car sit.

We arrived at noon on Tuesday, July 4. There'd be fireworks later in the evening, and crowds already were thronging Millennium Park in early afternoon. Still, many businesses were closed for the day. We found a passable Mexican joint for lunch, studied the map and found that a brewpub was within walking distance of the hotel -- west, over the river and under the transit hub.

This was Haymarket Pub & Brewery, located at the corner of Randolph and Halsted. The interstate passes between the brewery and the site of the Haymarket Affair.

The crowd gathered on the evening of May 4 on Des Plaines Street, just north of Randolph, was peaceful, and Mayor Carter H. Harrison, who attended, instructed police not to disturb the meeting. But when one speaker urged the dwindling crowd to “throttle” the law, 176 officers under Inspector John Bonfield marched to the meeting and ordered it to disperse.

Then someone hurled a bomb at the police, killing one officer instantly. Police drew guns, firing wildly. Sixty officers were injured, and eight died; an undetermined number of the crowd were killed or wounded.

Taken together, the bombing's agitated prelude and the overwrought reaction to it contributed mightily to the concept of May Day worldwide. That's right -- it all started in Chicago. I bet you thought it was Moscow.

We were told that the Haymarket Memorial near Desplaines and Randolph streets has been temporarily displaced for a building project and will return in the fall of 2017. Here's a file photo.

At the brewery, the doors were open facing the street on a temperate day, and we enjoyed beers and nibbles while watching baseball on television. I'd guess that Belgian derivatives and IPAs made up two-thirds of the draft list on the day of our visit. Seeing as I've finally relented to the notion of samplers, my choices ranged across the menu. Every Haymarket beer I drank, whether hoppy or malty, was very good -- with a single exception, the Kölsch.

Call me old-fashioned, but hop aromatics redolent of honeydew melon and strawberry are better deployed elsewhere. Somehow the characteristic Kölsch crispness was buried in fruit. It wasn't my gig; however, make no mistake. The Haymarket Pub & Brewery is outstanding, and I'd return there in a heartbeat.

We bought wings to go and returned to the hotel for a nightcap, only to find the bar closed for the holiday. Fortunately there is a Seven-Eleven right around the corner, and it yielded a six-pack of Revolution Gumballhead Sun Crusher cans.

Red alert to the trencherman in me, because Chicago was going to be caloric.

On Wednesday: Cubs and Rays at Wrigley Field and beers at the Red Lion.