Return to Glory

My brother and I did the unthinkable last evening- we drove 6.8 miles away (roughly 20-25 minutes in the car), two suburbs over, to go to a Chili's. I know what you're thinking- Did you at least get the bottomless chips and salsa? The answer is yes.




Now like anyone who grew up in Deerfield, my relationship with Chili's is long and storied. There was the time before a 4th grade concert where Josh Altman, in attempting to order the Guiltless Chicken Sandwich, asked for the gutless chicken sandwich, sending my grandparents into hysterics (he also fell on the way out of the restaurant, sending mud up his pants, which probably would have been more embarrassing had we not only been in 4th grade, but trust me, it was still pretty funny at the time).

There was the time in junior high we got take out and when they mistakenly gave my mom corn on the cob instead of french fries, she ripped the manager a new one over the phone, letting him know why a burger and corn just wouldn't suffice (this memory narrowly beats out her driving back to Chili's in a snowstorm because in her order of fajitas they did not include her boat of salsa, guacamole and rice).

There was the time in high school our waiter inexplicably asked if we wanted ranch with our chips and salsa, and then charged us $1.50 for the ranch, not that I'm still bitter about it.

And then one day, just like that, all the memories were gone when Chili's up and left (I remember this being sometime around 2004, because I remember eating there with John Nollin and my memory tells me that such a meal could have only taken place in 2003). Forever since, a void has been left in the take-out hearts of Deerfield residents.

Sure, we had a Bennigan's and Applebee's within walking distance of Chili's, but both of those restaurants do a poor job of recreating the magic of dining in Chili's.

But out of despair, came a miracle. When I left for Champaign in the fall of 2004, I was graced with a beautiful site of seeing a Chili's in driving distance (made only mildly more disturbing by the fact it was surrunded by an Outback, Applebee's, Cheddar's and a bevvy of other restaurants all offering the same items).

And let me tell you, if you liked Chili's in the suburbs, you'll love them in college towns.

Inexperienced waiters- Check.

Uninformed hosts who provide inaccurate seating times- Check.

No Salsa consistency and each time charged a different amount for the chips- Check.

The greatness emanating from this Chili's was that it seemed as if almost all of the employees were indifferent to their jobs, willing to engage in time consuming conversations about nonsense while teaching us the Chili's shorthand, like reggae boat. No one stood out more than legendary waiter Brian. One meal alone he delivered two all-time classic lines.

1. We walk in and sit down. Brian comes over, takes our drink order, and before we say anything else, asks "Do you guys want the chips? Yeah, you want the chips!" and walks away. Veteran move.

2. After presumably eating like 3 baskets of chips, I barely made a dent in my nachos (shocking). Brian asks if I want a box. I mull the decision briefly. Ultimately, I inquire from Brian "These aren't going to be good reheated are they?" Brian says no and we nix the box. Then what happened next was out of this world. Only Brian's head emerged from behind the kitchen door, like he was a sock puppet or something, and the tone of his voice raised dramatically as he said "But they're pretty good cold!" He then laughed and retreated back into the kitchen, before emerging again with a box. Only Brian.

So it was with a mixture of nostalgia and uncertainty that my brother and I ventured back to Chili's yesterday, the first time for both of us in years really. Was the magic still there?

Check back tomorrow.

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