Best of Evanston 2021

There are few news events that have spread across Northwestern Twitter quite like the time Tomate Fresh Kitchen announced it was closing, then re-opening, then delaying re-opening, then officially opening once again. The Noyes joint, famous in Evanston for its well-portioned burritos, has a unique hold on undergrads and community members compared to the area’s other Latin restaurants.

I am ashamed to admit I came to know Tomate only after moving from deep South Campus to an apartment near Foster-Walker during my senior year. I had long heard about the delicious burritos and tacos, but never challenged myself to actually try it. But after just the first bite I took into the pillowy soft tortilla, sharply salted carne asada, fluffy rice, thick beans and mild red salsa, I was hooked. You would think that first taste is the best, but true fans know that every bite contains a bit of heaven, down to the last ends of the tortilla.

For those who haven’t had the chance to be floored by a great plate of food in a while, I highly recommend the asada, chiles relleno or fried tofu burritos, although you really can’t go wrong with any of the available options. Treat yourself to an horchata or a Jarritos to wash down your food. As we saw in the cold, dark weeks before the restaurant’s March re-opening, Tomate’s menu is a gift that we cannot take for granted.

In Evanston, I don’t use the Spanish pronunciation of my name very often. But every time I walk to the counter to pick up my weighted bag of burritos, tacos and chips and say the order is for “Mah-ree-sa,” I feel that much more enveloped by the warmth Mexican American food always brings me.

– Marissa Martinez

I took my first trip to Bennison’s Bakery last fall. The line wrapped around the corner and the wait lasted for 20 minutes — a short line for a Saturday morning, I later learned. The crowd was hushed, almost reverent.

The bakery, a family-owned establishment that smells like magic and sounds like an old movie, has been around since 1938. Warm light glows from within the bakery; the tall, retro neon sign posted over its entrance feels nostalgic. Glazed croissants, pastries dusted with powdered sugar, rich cakes and bursting tarts beckon. I once tried to count the number of treats on display in the bakery’s windows to pass the time in that long line, but I Iost track after I hit 150.

My Italian pastry chef grandfather raised me on fresh home-baked cannolis, spice cookies and danishes — but Doug Spoto has some serious competition here. The pumpkin donut I bought on my first visit to the bakery was life-changingly good. The ambiance? Even better. I’m now a regular.

When I think of Bennison’s, I think of community. Friends have met me to exchange Bennison’s donuts in the pouring rain, our paper bags soaked but our donuts still miraculously intact. I’ve taken dates to the bakery, caught up with acquaintances in that long, long line and even taken refuge from the wind tunnel that is Maple Avenue within Bennison’s doors.

In every way, Bennison’s is an unparalleled establishment - and if you don’t believe me, meet me there.

– Maia Spoto

Picture this: you’re a college freshman failing Spanish 101-1. After you cry into your pillow, questioning your choices in life that have led you here, how do you convince yourself that attending Northwestern wasn’t a mistake? Do you: A) make friends B) change your major or C) go get a frozen custard?

If you chose C, you chose right. Andy’s Frozen Custard, the unchallenged owner of the Best of Evanston dessert slot for six years, lent itself to ten beautiful years in Evanston before closing in April 2020. The desert chain was arguably THE most popular Evanston restaurant among students –– it was certainly my most visited place in the city –– and a quintessential part of Northwestern culture.

Andy’s was a short walk from campus, ready for you to duck in and grab a pick-me-up. The store sold sundaes, but its claim to fame were its Concretes, mounds of frozen custard blended with toppings. Each one, from queer icon BootDaddy to the strawberry-blended Snowmonster was a top tier snack, perfect for eating your feelings with. Trekking through snow to get to Andy’s and sitting on the wooden bench at the back of the store, eating your Concrete under the weirdly harsh fluorescent lighting, was a pivotal Evanston experience.

Unlike most business shutdowns last year, Andy’s didn’t close because of the pandemic –– the chain opted not to renew its lease when it expired. I mourn for the freshman who never got to experience Evanston with it, and as I prepare for graduation, I remember the times I turned to Andy’s when it felt like my life was falling apart. Andy’s was a reliable king, and although the store abandoned us in a time of need, I don’t think I’d have survived Northwestern without it.

– Wilson Chapman

A beacon of greasy hope in a town where nearly everything else closes at eleven, the Evanston Burger King on Clark Street was the best late-night drunchies establishment near Northwestern last year. And now, it’s gone.

“Fast” food is a misnomer for this particular Burger King. It often took 10 to 20 minutes just to get a milkshake and chicken fries. But maybe that’s because every other person at the party you just left is also there, ordering the same thing you ordered. The plastic tables were always sticky, the bathroom always smelled, but it was the perfect place to go on a Saturday night (or Tuesday night, no judgment!) to satisfy that fried-food craving.

When the pandemic started, Burger King swiftly lost much of its charm. Who needs an after-party snack when there’s no party to go to? It closed permanently in December of 2020, and remains vacant to this day.

My roommates and I, however, found a way for it to live on. When we moved off-campus at the beginning of winter quarter, we spotted a discarded, six foot by six foot sign in BK’s dumpster. We knew we had to rescue it. After much finagling, and a borrowed step-ladder, it now lives on our enclosed porch.

When one of my roommates tweeted about the pilfered sign, Burger King replied, “pls take care of her.” And we will. Through her, the memory of Evanston’s Burger King will become immortal.

-Jordan Mangi

Oh, La Macchina. La Macc. La hallowed alcohol-encrusted ground. How I will miss the moonlit metamorphosis from charming neighborhood ristorante to overcrowded college bar

La Macchina Café was a jack of all trades, tickling the senses of Orrington Avenue with aromatic and mouth-watering autentica cucina Italiana, lively jazz on weekday evenings and a vintagely playful pub-meets-wine-bar ambiance. It was a venue for families, couples, foodies, musicians and students alike, possessing an astonishing ability to transport our wayward souls to Rome by day (and something resembling a Big Ten town by night).

I pity the Wildcats who will never taste the sweet sausage and perfectly cooked eggs of a La Macc “Boozy Brunch,” where the orange juice for the mimosas runs out almost immediately but the André flows perpetually. They will never know the anxious thrill of being dragged to an a cappella concert in the dimly-lit underbelly of your restaurant, only to see their crush sitting uncomfortably on the concrete floor (because of course there are only 10 folding chairs supplied). They will never have their life flash before their eyes after a behemoth football player accidentally bumps them off the booth they were both dancing on. And they will never bite into a pillowy gnocchi on a cold winter quarter evening, thankful for your delicious takeout.

On my very first night of college, I entered your crowded doors with nothing more than a mere Wildcard, facing a lawless terrain of blaring club music, randomly elevated surfaces and dancing first-years packed together. I will never forget the smell — sweat, watered-down vodka and possibility (with a hint of sottocenere al tartufo). On the alignment chart, you fell perfectly into the category of chaotic good in a city that consistently ranks in the neutral evil category. In just eight years, you left a mark that will be felt in perpetuity.

To La Macc — I raise a forkful of Ravioli di Zucca Mantovani and a glass of champagne (with a drop of Tropicana) to you. Sogni d’oro, amore.

- Daisy Conant

In winters past, Unicorn Cafe’s wide, foggy windows served as an invitation into the Evanston mainstay’s toasty interior. Though the haze often masked the independent coffee shop’s contents to outside eyes, upon entry, students could be sure to receive a warm cup of joe, a tasty baked treat and free WiFi.

But not this winter.

After nearly 30 years in Evanston, Unicorn Cafe’s once-fogged windows remain clear, now offering only a glimpse into the sadly familiar sight of an abandoned storefront.

When Unicorn Cafe’s doors officially closed in September, amid the pandemic-driven recession and after concerns of dwindling city support for independent businesses, Downtown Evanston lost not only a coffeehouse, but a communal space.

The musical talents of Northwestern students occasionally reverberated off those big windows, filling Unicorn Cafe with the sounds of whichever open mic the store happened to be hosting that particular weekend.

Its cozy atmosphere, ample seating and seasonal drinks also made it a prime study spot before the pandemic hit.

When news of its closure broke, one Twitter account recalled the shop as the University marching band’s “go-to spot” for coffee before practice, just one of many who lamented the loss on social media. After the well-loved cafe brewed its last pot of coffee, many realized just how short their time with Unicorn had been.

Students can still choose from a wide array of coffeehouses off and around campus — but none quite like Unicorn Cafe. As the name suggests, Unicorn Cafe captured a unique spirit not found among the city’s selection of other shops, both independent and chain. There may never be another Unicorn, but its memory will live on in those who graced those small, circular tables with a cup of coffee and a mountain of work.

- James Pollard