On the first morning, we left our home around 7 and dropped Patch off at a friend's kennel on our way. That day we travelled through the rest of New York, a smidgen of Pennsylvania, all of Ohio, an hour or two of Indiana, and stopped for the night in a suburb of Chicago. Finding ourselves in Chicago and met with our abiding hunger for good pizza, we knew we had to find some famous deep dish. After a Google search for "Chicago's best pizza", we found ourselves in an outpost of Lou Malnati's, mouths drooling, stomachs rumbling over the rich smell.
It turns out Chicago's deep dish, while interesting and deliciously fragrant, left my hankering for pizza largely unsatisfied. Maybe it's ridiculous to say this in the MidWest, but there was too much corn in that tall, flat crust. Besides, the sauce to cheese ratio was off and the sausage was one piece the size off the pie, hiding out somewhere under the sauce and cheese. It was strange. I went to bed and dreamed of large slices of New York pizza heavily laden with every scrumptious topping my mind could conjure.
Patrick reading to the kids in the Illinois hotel:
Patrick reading to the kids in the Illinois hotel:
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