It’s a daunting task to be omnipotent about sausage. It’s even harder when you live in Chicago, where you have hundreds of hot dog stands. And, harder still when you see that the local craft butcher shops are going strong. Sausages and hot dogs are everywhere.
Somehow, these small businesses are avoiding the Walmart asphyxiation death trap wherein neighborhood and small-town stores go belly up. Hot dogs, sausages and butcher shops are more prevalent than ICE agents in Chicago.
In the 234 square miles of Chicago, there are 1800 hot dog stands – or 7.69 hot dog stands in every square mile.
During WWII Stalin said, “You have to be a very brave man to be a deserter in the Russian army.” If you were caught deserting, you were shot immediately.
To open a hot dog stand or sausage restaurant in Chicago, you must be brave. There is a ton of competition – you better be brave and smart to survive in the hot dog-sausage biz.
Wurst Behavior is a shining example of the small competitor entering a vicious arena and coming into battle with above-average armaments. Unlike Portillo’s and that level of diner where imagination and hand-crafted ingenuity stops at the front door, Wurst Behavior welcomes you to the art of the sausage.
The storefront is not going to wow with Taj Mahal presence. Sit down, grab a menu and if your reading skills are above that of the average American (8th grade) you’ll quickly surmise that you have your choice of artistic works to choose from. It’s like the Art Institute is offering things to put into your mouth.
Take your time with the menu. Do you pick one from the sausage category, one from the brat section, or take a chance on one of the offerings in the handmade hot dog section? There is no Vienna hot dog to be seen. This could be a jarring realization to many Chicagoans – so be forewarned.
As you feel analysis-paralysis set in, make your choice easier and just stay on the left side of the menu. Pick one, go with it, and be ready to justify it to your companions.
My dining companion has quirky tastes. It’s rare her taste buds and mine overlap or align. She raised an eyebrow when I suggested the BBQ Brat, but I was quick to counter with the compromise that any appetizer she chose I’d go with. Pierogi was selected and I commended her on her brilliant selection. If the sausages and dogs are handmade, the pierogis had to be as well and, besides, Jordan our cordial server said that was the case. (Please avoid pissing Jordan off by calling him the Wurst server. He’s a good guy and doesn’t need to hear this for the hundredth time.)
We placed the food order. They have a variety of beers, wine, and booze. It was past noon but before 3 PM so I ordered a Pilsner Urquell. The Wurst Cocktails were tempting – I couldn’t decide between the Chicago Fire (mezcal base) and the Midwest Dram (bourbon base), and a nice glass of Wodka (polish vodka) on the rocks. When you have three booze choices, opting for a pilsner lets you know the superego was winning out over the id. We’d be at the Bulls game for 4 PM tip and Mr. Id would make bad drinking decisions there.
The pierogis arrived and we shut up. They disappeared faster than the Bulls’ playoff hopes. They were some of the lightest pierogis I’ve tasted.
Meaning, 98% of all pierogis have a half-life of 100 years in your stomach and 200 years on your hips. You can look it up – Guinness has recorded that no pierogi has ever escaped earth’s gravitational pull. There are some recently unearthed tombs in Warsaw discovered to have edible pierogis in the pocket of King Casimir III.
I’m not sure why these little savory pillows were on the appetizer list. But I guess they had to go somewhere on the menu. They were gone so quickly we didn’t pick up the phone to take a picture. When food anticipation overcomes cell phone camera usage you know something special has happened.
Before we burped out our thanks for the pierogi, the BBQ Brat showed up. We have pictures of this and only a Cinemax screen could do the brat picture justice. We were trying to avoid the death-by-over-eating syndrome and asked for the brat to be halved. Even being cut in half didn’t diminish the commitment it was going to take to eat all of this.
I didn’t have a golf ball with me but I’m pretty sure the diameter of the brat was larger than 1.68 inches. Plus, the bun and toppings of cole slaw and BBQ pork exceeded the size of the average male human mouth (which is 2.15 inches). In short, when presented in front of you, this work of art is asking you to do something physically unnatural.
These thoughts come to mind once you get past the stunned staring you do at the brats facing you. This is where sausage art becomes participatory art.
You are the canvas. The oils and paints are in front of you. You are going to apply this bun contained sausage to your face hoping that you can unhinge your jaw, knowing that it is very likely sausage shrapnel will decorate your face and shirt. Mr. Id is jumping on your shoulder cheering you on with profanity laced declarations. You realize you watched too many Russ Myers movies during your pubescent years.
Time stops. You have entered a hand-to-hand battle zone. You don’t have three hours to battle this monster – tip-off is at 4 PM.
The hand-to-mouth battle is failing. The brat and condiments are winning. Failure suggests a Plan B and you attack with fork and knife hoping no one you know sees your failure at unhinging your jaw while sausage shrapnel covers the table and most of your limbs.
The battle lasts longer than you want, and your life will go on. You’ve made headway and miraculously half the brat is gone, cole slaw scattered here and there. You sense some relief from the battle and then Jordan parachutes in three platters of sausage:
He’s adding more uranium to a hot core. We’re already past critical mass and the shrapnel wounds are affecting judgment.
We look up from the feast before us and thank Jordan for these lagniappes. I undo the belt and realize tourniquets only save lives when they are tightened. We plow on. It’s straight knife-and-fork nibbling now. There is no way we can pile three more sausages down. Fitting ten pounds into a five-pound sack is magic we can’t do.
We waive the white flag of the doggie bag brigade. We take the partially eaten bevy of sausages, condiments, and sausage buns with us. The car will smell heavenly for days.
The after-battle report is succinct:
- The battle went to Wurst Behavior. In military parlance, we were Overcome by Events (OBE), like Custer at Little Bighorn.
- The BBQ Brat was a monster – two people had to subdue it.
- The kielbasa was Top Three All-Time good, as was the pierogi.
- Chicken and Italian were very good, but the brat and kielbasa won the cage match.
- Kudos to Wurst for making all the buns and condiments work together and not have them overshadow the sausage art.
- Thanks for Sarah and Jordan for spending time with us and trading stories about the sausage business.
Postscript Note:
We want to credit Art Wnorowski and Gosia Pieniazek for bringing Wurst Behavior to life. This is a place of handmade craft art. It is another example of fine dining without white tablecloths and overpriced wine lists.
They weren’t at Wurst the afternoon we stopped by. It was four days before the opening of a new restaurant, Spoko (Spoko Chicago), in Lincoln Park.
Seeing that they also have Pierogi Kitchen (Pierogi Kitchen Chicago), Ella’s BBQ (Ella’s BBQ), and Earl’s BBQ (Earl’s BBQ), it looks like we have serious food artists taking some market share from the big guys.
Our Rating: Three sausages out of three sausages.
4009 N ELSTON Ave, Chicago, IL 60618
(773) 654-3122
www.wurstbehavior.com