Chuckle Bros (7/14/10)

Every summer, my city hosts a massive downtown gorge-fest known as the Taste of Chicago. The offerings range from burgers and ribs to jerk chicken and sautéed goat, but as I navigated the Taste earlier this month, I noticed that something was missing: namely, breakfast. There were no pancakes, no waffles, and no plates of crispy bacon waiting to be devoured. This was a shame, given the number of 24-hour diners that dot the city. We’ve got the Golden Apple on the north side, Huck Finn Donuts on the south side, the Original Pancake House in the suburbs, and hundreds of other diners that are too numerous to name, but too wondrous to ignore. Maybe the city could set up a breakfast-only event earlier in the year. I have a hunch it would appeal to shift workers, retirees, college students, and those of us who prefer French Toast to a bowl of Cheerios.


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