Smile Politely. Speak Directly. A Champaign-Urbana Culture Blog

With my wedding just 16 days away, and a burning yet misdirected need to somehow shave off as many pounds as possible, my mind has been on one thing and one thing alone come dinner time: chicken. The fried kind.

We’re fortunate to live in a community that serves up some great choices if you’re willing to get your ass on the treadmill the next day, and so I present to you my Top 3 Places to Eat a Fried Bird in C-U:

Dig in after the jump.

There is something uniquely charming about taking a long drive to go out to eat. After all, most dining out experiences in these towns involve simply settling for second best: grab hold of what strikes you immediately, look at your array of choices in town and get a table. Sigh.

I’ll be the first to state it clearly: these towns really fail me in terms of offering up a good selection of places to eat out. I mean, not just kind of, but pretty much across the board. In fact, there are only four restaurants that honestly excite me in Champaign-Urbana. That's not saying much for towns like these and I am not even really a food snob.

So, that said, the drive to Gibson City to take in a meal at Bayern Stube, an authentic German restaurant that translates literally to "Bavarian living room," was filled with a certain anxiety. I have become accustomed to disappointing experiences when dining out ‘round these parts, so my expectations were light, to put it mildly.

My love for Esquire took about three years to develop, but it is a strong and enduring love.

Looking back, it seems incredible that I didn’t give Esquire a chance sooner. Centrally located in downtown Champaign, the recently expanded bar sits between some of my favorite places including Mike n' Molly’s the Brass Rail. The Blind Pig is also just down the street.

But, we all have our prejudices. Mine include crowded pool tables, people in matching bar-crawl shirts, the same REM and Tom Petty songs on the jukebox, and peanut shells on the floors, tables, and as far as the eye can see. I also tend to not eat at bars serving primarily as drinking establishments, unless I have no other options.

I admit it: I am an addict for Chinese take-out.

For a while, I thought that there were three Chinese restaurants in town that were owned by the same person. After all, they had the same menu — with the red typeface — and the exact same listings. The prices varied, but not by much more than a few cents on certain items.

Then, I learned these menus were something that Chinese restaurants can choose to purchase, and the restaurateur can opt to align his culinary choices around what has already been listed. It makes sense; a printing company someplace offers these hole-in-the-wall Chinese joints ready-made menus and four walls later, a place like No. 1 Wok is born.

Sometimes my friends and I try to expand our horizons beyond the usual haunts, downtown bars and fine dining options. Sometimes we’re delighted by our experimenting, and other times, regretful.

Twice in the last few weeks I’ve visited Farren’s, an ever-so-slightly upscale restaurant and pub behind Nitaya Thai at Church and Hill streets. People love Farren’s for the burgers, including The Russell, which comes loaded with mushrooms, bacon, blue cheese sauce and jalapeno cheese. The Green Chili Cheeseburger, which is topped with jalapeno cheese and green chili sauce is just as highly regarded. Even those who avoid red meat can do just fine subbing a black bean burger, which comes with a side of Cajun remoulade. The fries, which cost extra, aren’t anything to write home about, but they do the job.

If you aren’t here for college, then there are few reasons to roam among the suburban youth who tan, binge drink and mate along East Green Street for eight months each year. There are a few hidden treasures, however: some seriously decent eateries catering to academics searching for digestible food. One even offers full wait service (gasp!) and a full bar (no!). Soon to be swept into downtown Champaign's old train station, Café Luna offers delicious lunches, dinners and Sunday brunches. Make the trip if you are feeling adventurous or are otherwise campus-bound. Certainly after their move next month there will be no reason not to try it out.

While it isn’t difficult to find a bar in downtown Champaign that suits your mood or credit card balance available (or a club, if that’s your bag), finding a decent place to eat can be tricky. If you don’t feel like stepping on peanut shells or shouting over played-out pop rock, then be prepared to spend 30 to 50 bones for a traditional fine dining experience. Indeed, it would seem that neither downtown nor Campustown has a single spot that is casual, but not tacky; civilized, but not pretentious; that can accommodate the burger fiends as well as the more high-maintenance diners among us.

If you go east down Springfield Avenue, however, you can find a place that is, for both the seasoned foodie and the seasoned townie somewhere in between middle-of-the-road and just right. The place to go, which also serves the more sophisticated of dedicated drinkers with a recently expanded martini menu, is Urbana’s Crane Alley.

There’s very little about Papa George, the restaurant that was until recently Pickles on Neil Street, that says “Greek.” In fact, the exterior screams bland American cuisine (a la Pickles), but the fact that the seldom-busy parking lot was overflowing last Friday night attests to how popular this restaurant has become and how, after a rocky start, the food has greatly improved.

The problem of authenticity arises again when entering and seeing essentially Pickles, with a few minor changes — a strip of wall near the ceiling has been painted Mediterranean blue and the tables now have textured blue candleholders. So it’s almost unavoidable to ask: Must a Greek restaurant have white-washed walls and be adorned with Corinthian columns and tchochkes from the old country for the food to be tasty and authentic? In the case of Papa George, the answer is no.

After respective long days at work and a couple hours cleaning our home from top to bottom, my boyfriend and I looked at each other, tired and hungry. "Now what?" I asked, bleary-eyed, and he replied, "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going to Seven Saints." At least, I'm assuming he finished the "Saints" part, as I scrambled past him and out the door before he was done speaking, leaving a bleachy, lemon-fresh scent trailing behind me.