My Favorite Chicago Restaurants

If you've had a conversation with me at any point in the past few years, it has probably turned at some point to the topic of where to eat in Chicago. Chicago is one of America's great food cities; I am one of America's great food eaters; it comes up. 

To launch my Thursday Dive series, then, I thought I'd start by diving into Chicago's best restaurants. The list below contains my personal favorites, informed by twelve years of professional food writing and seven years of living full-time in Chicago and paying its chefs to feed me as often as I can. If you're visiting Chicago and need recommendations, if you're local and looking for new spots, or if you're simply nosy and want to know what my taste is like, this list is for you. 

If you read this and find yourself hungry for more — ha, ha, teehee — worry not. I plan to make lots more Chicago food content here going forward, from where to take your meat-and-potatoes parents to where to eat in Andersonville, my beloved home neighborhood (and one that I've spared you my full opinions on in this first, city-wide list). For now, though, enjoy this guide to Chicago's very best eats.

#1 in My Heart and On This List: El Che 

The best dining experience I have ever had was at the Chef's Counter at West Loop steakhouse El Che. There are plenty of places in Chicago to have a tasting menu, but this one — where you sit at two little chairs on the edge of the kitchen, with the expeditor shouting out orders to your left and the fire of the parrilla grill roaring just beyond your plate — is special. When we went, the chef-owner himself brought out our ten or so courses and talked us through each one, chatting about the moments from his childhood in South America that inspired each dish. The experience was unforgettable, and the food — steak, lobster, bone marrow, sweetbreads — divine. 

It's hard to find a direct-reservation option for the Chef's Counter online these days, but it's worth inquiring to see if you can book it. If you can't, though, the standard dining room will hardly do you wrong. Come hungry, and if you're sitting at the counter, come in a tank top: this is a real "you are in the kitchen, be prepared to handle the heat" situation.

Dinnery Places

Fiya. My most visited restaurant in Chicago, we go to this place constantly not just because it is five blocks from our house, but also because it is so good. They're a Middle Eastern / Levantine restaurant with a giant wood-fired oven in the middle of the dining room. Get as much pita as you can possibly consume. Drag it through the hummus with lamb. Thank me. Andersonville 

ROOP. Formerly known as ROOH until they realized there's a Roux in Hyde Park that made that too confusing. Fine-dining Indian; excellent. West Loop 

Alla Vita. My hottest Chicago dining take is having this as my favorite sceney Italian restaurant instead of the much more obsessed-over Monteverde. Monteverde is fabulous, but the food at Alla Vita is very comparable and in a restaurant that's much, much easier to get into. Make this your spot. Get the orange blossom and taleggio table bread, which is the best bread course in the city. West Loop 

Creepies. A more recent opening that is absolutely worth its extensive, national hype. Vaguely Frenchy bistro; do not skip dessert. West Town 

Tre Dita. Best place in town to feel like a celebrity and also maybe see one. Extremely swanky Italian (by Chef's Table alum Evan Funke) in the very beautiful St. Regis overlooking the river. 10/10 for views, pasta, and yes, bread once again. That Weird Bit Between the Loop and Lake Shore Drive That Is Legally Called "New Eastside" 

Duck Duck Goat. My personal favorite restaurant in the Stephanie Izard cinematic universe. Very good sit-down-dinner Chinese; surprisingly affordable when shared with friends. Get the green beans, which Stephanie Izard is a wizard with. West Loop

Sun Wah. Speaking of Chinese, if you live in Chicago and have not yet been to Sun Wah, congratulations, you played yourself. This place is technically classified as "Hong Kong-style barbecue," but you don't need to know that to know it is delicious. Many great dishes, but if you want to feel like a king, do the pre-ordering required to get yourself the whole Peking duck. They carve it up tableside, so, dinner and a show. Uptown 

Honorable Mentions

Avec (Middle Eastern, West Loop, famous and deserves it); Bar Mar (seafood, Loop, my personal favorite restaurant interior in town, complete with giant octopus light fixture); Bavette's (steakhouse, River North, fabulous); Brasero (steakhouse but Latinx, West Town, fantastic sister restaurant to El Che); Giant (New American I Guess, Logan Square, eat outside in the secret gorgeous backyard!); Il Carciofo (Italian, West Loop, yes I like Italian a lot, get over it); John's Food & Wine (Also New American Whatever That Means, Lincoln Park, recently named best restaurant in the country by Food & Wine and pretty deserving tbh, especially for ~vibes~); Mi Tocaya (upscale Mexican, Logan Square, great); Rose Mary (Croatian, West Loop, excellent)

Lunchy Places

Publican Quality Meats. The Publican is lovely for sit-down meals too, but personally, I'm here for the sandwiches. The savory, herb-buttery jambon beurre (and a chocolate chip cookie for good measure) has gotten me through many a stressful lunch break. West Loop 

Al's Beef. My personal favorite of the great Chicago Italian beefs (though this is a strong opinion loosely held; I welcome attempts from other beefs to usurp the title). Get it dipped if you want to be a structurally-unsound psycho like me. Various 

Sfera. My Sicilian grab-and-go boo thang. Arancini, panini, and pizza (pizzi?) are their holy trinity of menu items and all are great. Guy Fieri came here on Triple D and, as a nearby neighbor of this restaurant, I have never felt prouder. Edgewater 

All Too Well. Described at more length in last week's blog, this is the sandwich shop of the gods. West Loop, Lincoln Park 

El Rincon de Fabio. Phenomenal Venezuelan food inexplicably located in the heart of Asia on Argyle. It is worth enduring their uncanny valley of AI-generated menu photos to consume their arepas. This is also a delivery favorite in our house. Uptown  

Pizza

Milly's Pizza in the Pan, Milly's Pizza in the Pan, Milly's Pizza in the Pan. A truly fantastic independent pizzeria serving a sort of deep-dish/pan-pizza hybrid. Being online when they open daily orders at 8 a.m. will benefit you in the somewhat Sisyphean task of securing one of their beloved, when-they're-out-they're-out pies. Writing this makes me want to order a Milly's pizza today. Lakeview, West Town 

Pizza Lobo. Slinger of some frankly giant pies available whole or by the slice. Lots of fun toppings and specialty pizzas, plus immaculate vibes both in their pub-y interior and on their enormous front patio, which is the best in Andersonville. This is an A'ville stan account, so we will not be acknowledging their other locations. Andersonville, Some Other Irrelevant Hack Neighborhoods 

Bungalow by Middle Brow. Speaking of vibes, this brewery and natural winemaker that is also a homemade-sourdough pizza joint has it, obviously, in spades. Major bonus points for the get-it-yourself soft-serve machine on site. Logan Square 

Spacca Napoli. The most authentic (and repeatedly award-winning) place in town for true Neapolitan-style pies. All are great, but the sleeper GOAT is the Pistacchio, with fior di latte, sausage, and pistachio cream instead of tomato sauce. Trust me that you should try it. Ravenswood 

Little Treats (Broadly Defined) 

Lost Larson. My personal favorite bakery. Vaguely Swedish, so Scandi treats like cinnamon rolls and cardamom buns are done very well. Strangely though for a sweets girl, my top item here is the cheddar kale scone. It is giant; it is delicious; it is often my lunch. Andersonville, Wicker Park 

Lickity Split. Three-flavors-a-day frozen custard for when you can't get to Sycamore in Logansport and would rather eat local than go to Culver's. A truly delicious treat, and their A'ville location is a block away from a well-stocked Chicago Public Library branch, setting the stage for an unbeatable one-two punch of Little Goodies The Girlies Like. Andersonville, West Rogers Park 

Publican Quality Bread. If reading this list has taught you anything, it should clearly be that I am passionate about bread. Publican is the best source in town for gorgeous loaves of it, which in my book absolutely counts as a little treat. Get it from their bakery or one of their many stockists — a list which also conveniently serves as a tidy guide to which local market owners have the best taste.

GoodFunk. A delightful little natural wine bar with a longgg list of strange wines that you will look cool ordering and drinking, plus a wonderfully moody atmosphere. The downtown location is lovely on its own or as a post-dinner pairing with the aforementioned Bar Mar, located a few doors down. Loop, West Town 

A New Dawn for The Domerberry

Hello, friends and readers. It's been a long few months since I published here, but with the weather finally acceptable again (read: under 70 degrees), I'm feeling invigorated — and ready for a new, more dedicated chapter. I've been on a hot streak of networking and trying to build up my writing roster these past couple months, and the more I meet writers and do things that feel worth writing about, the more interested I've become in just publishing things on my own. 

Don't get me wrong: I am still very much a full-time freelance writer Available For Hire™️. But I also fancy a return to my roots. Life was better in 2011, was it not? We cannot recapture the recession-in-the-rearview, stomp-hey-music-listening millennial optimism of the era, but we can blog like we did back then — and that's what I'm thinking of doing.

My loose plan is to publish once a week, in two formats. Every other Friday, I'll drop my "Friday Five": five things, big or small, that I'm obsessed with at the time. On the alternating Thursdays in between, I'll publish a "Thursday Dive": a deeper dive into a thing I love, hate, or simply feel like ranting about. I have long thought of myself as an influencer in my own deluded mind, and this is an attempt to make it a teensy bit official. These posts will span the subjects I've always loved and written about here — books, music, general lifestyle — and the things that (lest we forget) I do actually cover professionally, like travel and food. Want to know my favorite Chicago burgers? You might see that here. Itching to get your hands on the apocryphal Dublin travel guide I occasionally share if people ask very nicely? This might be the place. Consider this my fun-but-authoritative free space for publishing the lifestyle tips and tricks I hand out in my day job, with a few less pitching-and-commissioning strings.

Since today is Friday, I'm launching this new era of The Domerberry with a Friday Five. Enjoy this glimpse at the benevolent bugbears currently occupying my brain space — and come back next week to kick off the Thursday Dive with an oft-requested list: my favorite Chicago restaurants. 

The Friday Five: 09.25.26

My obsessions du moment

1. Theming my entire life around the fact that it's fall. If you've been here a while, you know — and if you've met me even once, you can probably guess — that fall is my favorite time of year. The weather is dreamy, the leaves turn all fun, and there are endless possibilities for my favorite thing: sticking to a theme. I am the person who wore pink to Barbie, green to Wicked (parts one and two), and a bustier to see Moulin Rouge on tour (apologies to the elementary-school-aged child seated next to me for having parents who somehow did not foresee this). I prepared for a rodeo trip this summer by making a six-hour country playlist and reading a cowboy romance novel. If it's fall, then, you bet my daily life is showing it. How, exactly? Well: 

a. Books. 'Tis the season for witch books and slasher novels, folks. I've read almost nothing in the past month that isn't fall-themed, and while I can't say these are all great works of literature, I can say that Feel the Bern is a Vermont-in-autumn-set mystery novel where the amateur detective is Bernie Sanders. I believe this speaks for itself.

b. Candles. This is obvious but bears repeating. If you walk into my house between August and Advent and it doesn't smell like you've fallen into a vat of mulled apples, I have done something wrong. For the record, my favorite fall candle is Spiced Cider by Capri Blue for Anthropologie. Bury me with this so I can huff the cloves for all eternity.

c. Food. If you think I'm cooking from any source but my soup-themed Pinterest board this fall, you are out of your mind.

2. All Too Well (and not the one you're thinking of). Yes, Taylor Swift's "All Too Well" is a masterpiece (and, as it happens, a great fit for my fall theme; see "scarf"). But the All Too Well I'm currently obsessing over is a sandwich shop. If you are in Chicago — or randomly Naples, Florida, where they have their other location — you need to eat at this place. I've spent eleven years chasing the high of my time in Dublin, when there were so many worldbeating sandwich shops that I hardly went a day without a life-changing sando. Nowhere has lived up to it since, Chicago included, but this place gives me some hope. They make their own schiacciata bread (foccaccia but thinner and sandwichier) and stuff it with some truly A-grade fillings. There's the Bombay Chulet, with Indian chili crisp and spicy fig on top of turkey and prosciutto. There's the perfectly named "...I Make You Lamb," with shredded lamb, feta, and chimichurri. If they had an outlet closer to my house, I would be 80% bread by now. 

3. Colorado. I recently booked a vacation to Aspen (it's in December; send me your recs), and it has me fantasizing about all things Colorado. I would looove to step on a crunchy leaf out there while gazing up at a canopy of aspens. I'll miss fall this year, but that won't stop me from fantasizing, especially about these travel-writery tidbits: 

a. Hotel Jerome, Auberge Collection. The most swankified hotel in Aspen, according to me and many, many other basic white women. Moody mountain lodge vibes; 130 years of history; a price tag that we will not be discussing at this time. 🙏

b. The Winter Park Express Train. Amtrak runs a train every winter that gets you from downtown Denver to the literal base of a ski mountain in under three hours. This is one rare, isolated instance of us being a proper country. 

c. DIVA at the Denver Art Museum. They have an exhibit opening next month that's A) comprised solely of costumes and artifacts related to the great pop divas, and B) built in conjunction with the V&A, which anyone with taste knows is the best museum in London. I envy all who get to go.

4. Applesauce cake with brown butter frosting. As Logansporters of a certain age may be aware, one of my old choir- and school- and churchmates is now a highly aspirational family and home influencer. I live for her posts; my mom lives for her posts; if you're reading this, there's a good chance you live for them too. This week (in keeping with obsession #1), I decided to try out her recipe for applesauce cake with brown butter frosting. Oh...my God. The recipe said you'd likely have extra frosting, and she suggested you just bake up another cake the next week to use it up. I wrote this off immediately as something I would never put forth the effort to do, but this thing was so good that I might actually bother. The cake is moist and warm-fall-spice-y (and comes together in what felt like 10 seconds in a single bowl, which is a huge plus), and the frosting is, to speak plainly, the best thing that has happened to me since at least the first Trump administration. Brown butter really is That Girl, and you should make frosting with her at your earliest convenience. 

5. The new Taylor Swift songs. You know I couldn't publish today and not talk about them. Yes, The Life of a Showgirl: The Encore is here, and I have of course been listening to the new tracks on repeat. With one exception, I like them. "Patient Zero" is a good concept, well executed except for opening hook being a note-for-note copy of "Wait for Me" from Hadestown. "Pink Clouding" is fun; "Babylon" is nice. And then, well, there's "Cleveland!" With nothing but the purest love for my friends from the Cle, this song is a mess. Cleveland is fine! We love that our girl is happy! But this is the first big love song from Taylor Swift after her wedding. The greatest lyricist of our generation just gave us "I have an important announcement to make" and "this - is - the - love - of - my - life." It is not her best work. But I guess I'd be phoning it in at the office too if I were newly married to a man large enough to throw me around like a sack of flour and who will retire before 40 as a multimillionaire. Good for you, girl. Good for you.    

See you next week!

My Transplant Era Media Menu

If you somehow have found your way to this blog without also knowing my whole business via Facebook, let me catch you up: 

Hi. I'm Sarah. My boyfriend has had cancer for the past two and a half years, and two months ago exactly, he was admitted to the hospital for the Big Honkin' Process™️ of a bone marrow transplant. In his case, this meant one month inpatient and one month convalescing under 24/7 watch at the apartment we'd rented near the hospital downtown. 

It also meant a lot of downtime. 

So what's a girl to do with that time, besides worry and stress-bake and take baths and work (yes, mother, I worked this whole time too!!!)? Read and watch things, of course. And I wouldn't be me if I didn't tell you about it. 

This isn't my entire media diet for YTD, nor will it cover my partner's whole recovery, since there is still a long road of quarantined, non-normal time to come. But this is the entire survey of books, TV, comedy, notable magazines, and movies I took in during February and March: the two-month downtown transplant era. My top favorites and recommendations are marked with a star (★). If you want more quantified reviewing than that, IDK, go follow me on Goodreads and convince me to get a Letterboxd.

Without further ado: my things!

Books

Lock Every Door, by Riley Sager. If you ever have cause to move briefly into a downtown high-rise to care for a loved one, I highly recommend starting a book on day one of said move about a girl who undergoes horrors after moving briefly into a downtown high-rise. Also, the twist at the end of this was bonkers. 

Big Fan, by Alexandra Romanoff. ★ My first time reading an 831 Stories novella, and it was great! Washed-up pop star + government-employee girlboss of my Obama-era career dreams = surprisingly successful romcom pairing.

Be Ready When the Luck Happens, by Ina Garten. ★ An iconic memoir by an icon. If Paris is the first place I go after my quarantine lifts, blame this book.

Small Things Like These, by Claire Keegan. ★ Stepped out of my usual populist genre fiction lane to read some actual prose. As affecting as advertised.

The Woman in Suite 11, by Ruth Ware. Not as good as its predecessor (The Woman in Cabin 10). This character must stop accepting invitations on luxury trips. 

Save Me the Plums, by Ruth Reichl. The Ina book set me off onto a food writing kick, starting with this one from the famed final editor of Gourmet magazine. Bring back 2000s magazine culture STAT!!!

Anatomy of an Alibi, by Ashley Elston. Elston's debut was one of my top books of 2024, so this sophomore outing was an auto-buy. This one wasn't quite as good as the first IMO, but I still eagerly await her next. 

With a Vengeance, by Riley Sager. I tend to like Sager, but this one got a little ridiculous. For recent fiction in the "railway whodunit" genre, I prefer Everyone on This Train is a Suspect, by Benjamin Stevenson. 

Monsieur Pamplemousse, by Michael Bond. I stumbled on a recommendation of this in an old issue of Gourmet and rented it immediately, thanks to my best friend, the Chicago Public Library. Detective novel where the detective is a reviewer for a Michelin-style restaurant guide. His sidekick is his sentient dog, Pommes Frites. The setting is a five-star hotel and restaurant in the French countryside. There are hijinks. And the author wrote Paddington! Thoroughly charming.

Ingredienti, by Marcella Hazan. Cookbook-adjacent guide that walks you through how to buy, store, and use the best of various Italian produce, pantry, and deli ingredients. Has me very excited for farmer's market season. 

Magazines Worth Mentioning

British Vogue. It is criminal that Anna Wintour's replacement has effectively stopped publishing U.S. Vogue in print. If we all buy enough issues of the British version from U.S. stores, will they get the hint?

Town & Country. If you have never read this magazine, you have to pick one up. Its audience and its subject matter are both just "extremely rich people," and the things it therefore recommends are absolutely cuckoo. Just trust. 

Gourmet. ★ I'd already read one book back in January (All Consuming by Ruby Tandoh, highly recommend) that praised the Internet Archive back catalog of old Gourmet issues. Reading Ruth Reichl's book prompted me to finally go explore them, and as advertised, they are a delight. A must-browse if you are a foodie or a fan of vintage magazine culture.

COMEDY

Chris Fleming: Live at the Palace. I'm a simple woman. I see Chris Fleming, I click. 

Sarah Sherman: Sarah Squirm Live + In the Flesh. RIP to the people who know her only from SNL and turned this on expecting a nice, family-friendly, not appallingly body horror-filled comedy special. For those of us who knew what we were getting into, though, great. 

Caleb Hearon: Model Comedian. Perfectly good. I'll stick to only engaging with his content when his podcast has on someone I'm a fan of.

Las Culturistas: Feb. 4 Episode feat. Sarah Sherman (YouTube Version). ★ Funniest 100 minutes I've seen in the past two months.

TV 

The Olympics. God smiled on us when he timed Patrick's transplant to start on basically day one of the Winter Olympics. I am an Olympics obsessive; I watched many hours; pairs ice dancing is my new passion.

Bridgerton Season 4. Another highly fortuitous bit of timing. A charming season IMO! Mrs. Bridgerton's "I am the tea you will be drinking" arc had me standing up out of my seat screaming (positive) at her.  

The Diplomat Season 3. Do you guys watch this? You should be watching this.

Schmigadoon. ★ OH MY GOD. I don't have Apple TV, so I never had access to this until I arrived at the quarantine apartment and discovered the smart TV there was logged into it. This series was created for me personally, and I will be recommending it to every theater person I know until the day that I croak. Knowing that a third, "Into the Schmoods"-themed season is storyboarded out but unmade makes me want to burn down a house.

How to Get to Heaven from Belfast. Not as good as the creator's other show, the no-flaws, masterful, I-have-watched-it-four-times-in-full Derry Girls. But if you want more Irish Content, this will do. 

Coldwater. Do you want to watch something really, really stupid? Would you like to see Andrew Lincoln vacillate wildly between "action hero" and "man so bizarrely emotionally messed up that you cannot tell if the writers are joking"? If so, give this thing a go, I guess.

Being Gordon Ramsay. BRB, finagling reservations for all five of his Bishopsgate restaurants.

Pluribus. ★ Vince Gilligan has done it again. This is genuinely powerful IMO and deeply thought-provoking. I might have to get Apple TV whenever the second season comes out.

The Burbs. Baby, she's Keke Palmer. This is a comedic mystery series featuring a band of unlikely suburb friends including not only Keke but Paula Pell and Colin Robinson from What We Do in the Shadows. It's a delight! Dig out your Peacock password and go watch it.

The Fall and Rise of Reggie Dinkins. Whoever thought of casting Tracy Morgan and Daniel Radcliffe as co-leads deserves a Nobel Prize. 

Rooster. For some reason this is shot like a prestige drama, but what it actually is is a hilarious sitcom that would be comfortably at home amid 30 Rock and friends. If you have HBO, watch it. 

Neighbors. Speaking of HBO, only they could produce the full-frontal-filled avant garde masterpiece that was the finale of this show's first season. Come for the amusing neighborly fighting (and the Kokomo episode!!), stay for a finale that combines elderly nudists, the Catholic Church, OnlyFans, and a sprinkle of acid-trip editing into one of the best TV episodes of the year so far. 

Jeopardy! Obviously we watch this daily, and while most of our usual weekly watching I've left off this list, I'm including Jeopardy! because I need you all to tune in and watch Jamie Ding. He is the last pure thing left in this world, and I want him to win one million dollars. 

Movies 

People We Meet on Vacation. ★ A DELIGHT. Emily Henry should be president of the United States, or at LEAST should have adaptations that play in theaters. WE WOULD ALL PAY TO GO!!!

The Wrong Paris. Charming! The "child star to straight-to-streaming romance heroine" pipeline is one of the only good things our contemporary media ecosystem has produced.

Honey Don't! Seriously, don't. 

Luckiest Girl Alive. Note to Netflix: Books with an extremely heavy (and extremely central!!) sexual assault AND SCHOOL SHOOTING plotline should maybe not be made into straight-to-streaming thrillers that are promoted as casual popcorn flicks. 

GoldenEye. This was my first time watching a Bond film. It has vindicated my choice to not watch any of them before now.

Louis Theroux: Inside the Manosphere. Oof. Chat, are we cooked?

Materialists. ★ Really good. I'm glad I didn't see it at release time when the "this looks like a romcom, why is it not a romcom" discourse was so loud, because this didn't need to be a romcom — it's interesting and well done in its own lane. Did it make me burst into tears? Yes, but it was on Valentine's Day in the hospital with my cancer-stricken boyfriend, so, like, grain of salt.

One Battle After Another. Good! They promoted this as too much of an action movie I feel like, because it really was funnier and less shots-and-explosions-y than that. Benicio del Toro really great. Haim sister also a nice touch — always enjoy pointing at my screen and saying, "Hey, a Haim!" Still think Sinners was better.

What have you been watching and reading? Let me know! See you the next time I remember this blog exists.

The Domerberry's Best of 2025

Another year has come and gone, and as always, I have spent it having opinions. It's no secret if you know me that I think all people should share their favorites at the end of each year, just as Obama does unprompted every December. I've shared my favorite books online for the past couple of years, but this year I decided to expand. 

My favorite books aren't the only things you did not ask for that I plan to make your problem. I also have favorites in other media, in travel and dining, in miscellaneous life — and I want to discuss them. I want you to read these because I do think I have good taste that you might enjoy (and because I'm clinically addicted to attention), but most of all I share because I want to yap. Did you read or watch or consume something on this list? Is there something here you think is insane? It would delight me if you reached out to chat about it. These are my Las Culturistas Culture Awards, and you are my readers, Kayteighs, publicists, and finalists — but also my friends. 

Read on for my favorite and best things of the year. Catch you in the next one!

Best Books

Bright Young Women, by Jessica Knoll
The Guest, by Emma Cline
Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier 
Manacled, by SenLinYu
The Thursday Murder Club, by Richard Osman

This was a slow reading year for me, but this is my small, un-ordered group of five-star books. A warning: Manacled is a novel-length Harry Potter fan fiction decidedly for adults only; do not attempt unless you are ready for the amount of freak that that entails. An endorsement: The Guest is the second Emma Cline that's earned an immediate five stars from me (the other being her debut, The Girls); I highly recommend either. A lament: Yes, it bothers me that Richard Osman here ruins my streak of almost never recommending books by men. 

Best Film & TV

Sinners 

The Hunting Wives 

Taskmaster 

In order, these are: 1) the best movie of the year and it's not close (two very sexy Michael B. Jordans! spooky stuff! important musical motif!); 2) a terrible, delightfully gay red-state murder drama whose second season I EAGERLY await; and 3) a British celebrity game show, available for free on YouTube in its entirety, which Patrick and I became obsessed with this year — and which strangely also involves Richard Osman.

Best Restaurants 

Il Carciofo, Chicago

Tre Dita, Chicago

Creepies, Chicago 

Fore Street, Portland, Maine 

Dish That's Been GOATed This Year When Restaurant Dessert is the Vibe 

Ice cream / gelato / sorbet. 

I generally think of myself as someone who prefers cake or other baked goods when choosing dessert out at a restaurant, but this year I have been on a hot streak of ordering just wittle baby ice creams. I've had a peach sorbet that was delicious; a gianduja gelato that tastes exactly like Sycamore chocolate custard (that was at Il Carciofo and you should go get it); a delightfully cozy spiced apple cider sorbet; a baguette-flavored soft serve...the possibilities are endless. I cannot recommend enough that you go out to eat and tell the server at the end, "Can I just do the [little frozen treat]?" So dainty. So good. 

Best Hotel 

Casa de Sierra Nevada, San Miguel de Allende, Mexico 

Most Adorable Airport 

Savannah-Hilton Head Island 

Songs from Eurovision You Should Really Be Listening To 

"Hallucination," from Denmark 

"Baller," from Germany

"Bara Bada Bastu," from Sweden 

"Espresso Macchiato," from Estonia 

The first two of these are unironic bangers. "Hallucination" is a great enough pop song that I listen to it alongside the other pop girlies as if it is not from Eurovision at all, and "Baller" is essentially Berghain techno music for people raised on Radio Disney (read: me). 

The latter two of these are Eurovision comedy songs for the ages. "Espresso Macchiato" is even mostly in English! Just trust me and go listen to them. 

Worst Day of the Year 

The day when my local Italian deli got evicted. Those paisans not paying their rent is RUINING MY LIFE.

Best Day of the Year

Chicago pope day. Duh.

Best Chicago-Area Hospital Amenity 

The robot smoothie vending machine in general surgery waiting at UChicago.

I am something of an expert in this niche field by now, and trust me, the coolest visitor-facing item in any Chicago hospital is the machine at UChicago where you can command a robot to make you a smoothie in front of your eyes. It takes an uncomfortably long time, but you're in surgery waiting — what else do you have to do? 

Best Thing to Spend $15 On

Fancy chocolate bars that really should only cost $5 but which you will happily pay triple that for, because you deserve a little treat.

My personal favorites are "Block Party Brownie" by the excellent Seattle-based chocolate company Maeve, and "Butter Biscuit" by Meurisse. They're Belgian and almost 200 years old. Really I should be paying them even more!

  

Best Place to Say That You Are Going 

The fishmonger. 

There's a great independent fishmonger in our neighborhood, and I never feel like more of a pretentious nightmare (positive) than when I am talking about shopping there. I have actually shopped there a total of two times, but my God, what a rush it is to say you're thinking of stopping by the fishmonger once or twice a week. So unnecessary. So Nordic. You must go — or at least talk about it.

Young People Things That Maybe I'll Get Into Next Year 

Funky little pimple patches

K-Pop Demon Hunters 

Young People Thing That I'm Glad We're All Leaving Behind 

Labubus. 

That's all, folks. Happy new year!

Examine the Goop Gift Guides With Me

As obvious as this may sound, there are few things I love more in this world than a gift. I love giving them, I love receiving them — I just find it a delight to be on either end of the process of thinking about a person you love, then getting them something that you think will brighten their day. 

I also love seeing the stupid stuff that rich people get up to. 

This week, then, contained my own personal Best Time of the Year: the moment when Goop releases its annual holiday gift guide. Gwyneth Paltrow can always be relied on to suggest truly nutso things to indulge in, so, for the past several years, I have religiously trawled her Goop guides to see just how ridiculous her gift ideas can get. Will she recommend a $12,000 gold candle snuffer? A private jet trip you can only access by signing away the naming rights to your firstborn child? 

I must know — so when I saw the 2025 guide this morning, I dove in. As is usually the case, there are some items on here that I can actually understanding wanting: a luxury hotel stay, a cashmere sweater, etc. But most are, per Gwynnie custom, insane — and, this year, I decided they call for a blog post. 

Goop organizes its gift guide into categories: gifts for a hostess, gifts for men, etc. So I will review the items in the same way. I'm skipping over plenty of stuff entirely: the Wellness guide (either you can buy that stuff at Walgreens or you don't need it), the Under $100 guide (most of it's reasonable), the jewelry (we get it, necklaces cost more than a car sometimes), and most travel experiences (because again, this is what people should spend their riches on). But, for the rest of the list, I have thoughts. Read on to see what they are. 

The "Forward to Your SO" Guide 

Goop has done this guide nearly since the beginning, and I have to say, Gwyneth and I have very different definitions of "gifts to ask for from your partner." My "Forward to Your SO" gift list is the same list I send to anyone else who needs it, with maybe, like, 3% more spice. Is one of the romance novels on my list slightly hornier than the others? Guess I'll ask my boyfriend for that one instead of my sister. Job done. 

Villa in Antibes, €64,000/night. Goop says this one is perfect "for the couple who likes to travel with friends." At nine bedrooms, you could squeeze 18 friends in here, but it would still cost them €3500 per night per person!!! If a friend group exists that's open to this, I honestly don't want to know.

Vintage Shell-Shaped Butter Dish, $450. Gwyneth calls this "the gift that says 'I love you butter than anyone.'" If you love me butter than anyone, buy me actual butter. My regular Kerrygold is like $7 a pack now, so a high-end butter like a Bordier is literally a luxury item. Just get me that! Step away from the single-use kitchen tool that is probably held together with asbestos and lead!

Vespa in Primavera Red, $5,799. My only note on this was "kind of sick tbh," and you know what, I stand by it. Live your Lizzie McGuire Movie dreams. 

Anya Hindmarch Pills Box, $450. I need you to know that there are no fewer than three pill organizers in this gift guide. Why are they so obsessed with pillboxes? Why is this one on the romance guide? Does this have to say "Penelope's Prescriptions" on it like the one shown in the photos? I do not need the TSA thinking I stole my prescription meds from some woman called Penelope! 

The Beauty Gift Guide 

Aire 360 Ceramic Air Styler Blowout Kit with Carrying Case, $299. On the one hand, my brain is exactly broken enough to think this is a decent price for a high-end, multi-use hair tool. On the other hand, the only tool I use on my hair is an $18 Conair dryer I bought at Walmart in 2015. *shrug* The duality of woman.

Vintner's Daughter Active Botanical Serum, $740 for 100 ml. I genuinely don't know what this is. Why are we even considering spending $740 for a skin product packaged in a hay-filled box that looks like the manger Jesus was born in? IS that the manger that Jesus was born in? That would at least explain the price tag!

Coquille Mirror, $2800. Nothing says "eat the rich" like a three-inch-high hand mirror that costs more than my monthly rent. 

Louis Vuitton Cosmetic Lipstick Pouch, $605. I want to be very clear that this is a bag only large enough to hold one tube of lipstick. It is two inches high by four inches long. YOUR LIPSTICK DOESN'T NEED ITS OWN BAG! WHAT ARE WE DOING????

Aventis Comb, $126. Do no one else's hackles raise upon reading the phrase "made from horn"? Are we doing poaching here? I have concerns. 

Reiki Infused Energy Head Spa Session, $555. I can't lie to you: I would spend my money on this if I were rich and stupid. I went to a head spa for the first time this year and loved every relaxing minute of it, so that plus some dubious healing work that should allegedly make me feel refreshed and like slightly more of a functioning human being? You Gooped me, gal. 

The Men's Gift Guide 

Theragun Mini 3.0, $219.99. If we did not already have something very similar to this in our home, this would be probably the item from this list that I would be likeliest to buy. One's muscles do be hurting sometimes, and $220 is a sum I could actually envision spending to fix it. Congrats to Gwyneth on a Genuinely Good Idea!! 

Tread Portable Pizza Oven, $549.99. I am instantly suspicious of the word "portable." Please set your own home on fire with your crazy oven box. Do not endanger my life by bringing it to mine. 

The Teppanyaki, $449. This is stupid. No one needs to own this. I would buy it.

Springbok Shaving Set, €1118. Again, girlypop, arrrrre we doing poaching? There are a weird number of animal horns in this gift guide! I have concerns! 

Ram Desk Lighter, $753. A) Animal horn round 3. What are we doing? B) This is a flammable shofar that you can't even use as an instrument. Do not like. 

Force of Nature Meats Ancestral Blends Box, $218. I shouldn't be surprised that the beef tallow organ meat people have come for Goop, yet somehow I am. If your man is the kind of person who'd enjoy this, I do not like your man. 

Walden Cold Plunge Concept, $15,000. This looks like something my veterinarian grandfather would have used to bathe and/or euthanize animals in 1955. Also, why is it called a "concept"? It physically exists. On paper it has a purpose. I think we're past the point of it being "a concept" and into the realm of it being "a thing." For $15,000. 

Porsche Ice Driving Experience, price upon request. Come onnnnn, tell us what it costs! How much are rich people paying to *checks notes* drive a quarter-million dollar car at racing speeds across terrain that regularly causes accidents even among four-wheel-drive vehicles moving at 30 miles per hour? You know, I think the orcas that keep sinking billionaires' yachts came up with this. 

Louis Vuitton Babyfoot Foosball Table, price upon request (pictured). This looks like a Monsters Inc. character who matriculated to Monsters U from a tony private boarding school in Switzerland. I'll take two. 

The Bon Vivant's (Host's) Gift Guide 

The Seasonal Diffuser Set, $216. I promise you can get this at Walgreens for $39.99. 

Noma Taste Buds Membership, $790. A quarterly delivery of funky inventions from Noma's test kitchen, this again falls into the category of "things I would buy if I were rich." Would my taste buds probably be too boring to enjoy most of them? Yes. Would I get them anyway? Absolutely. 

Starry Starry Night Winter Candle, $175; Not a Creature Was Stirring Candle, $125; Pasta Water Candle, $70. A candle is a great host gift. If I invited you to my home and you showed up with a candle priced up to, say, a splurgey $50, I would say wow, thank you so much, I love you. If you showed up to my house with a candle priced over $100, I would say girl, why did you not give me that money in cash? I am too poor to consider a candle a good use of a literal dinner-and-a-show amount of money! Oh, and if you came to my house with a candle that smells like pasta water, I would kick you out. 

Brunello Cuccinelli Playing Cards, $930. You know, we actually don't criticize rich people enough. 

Tilda Ash and Kindling Bucket, $395. This looks like a toilet. If someone takes a poo in this (or the $1300 firewood basket that goes with it) and now you're stuck dealing with that in your home, I'm sorry but you deserve it. 

Hermès Jukebox, price upon request (pictured). In theory there's a fairly fine line between this and the aforementioned Monsters Inc. foosball table, but in practice, I love that and I hate this. There is whimsy here, but it has been corrupted. Burn it in a fire. 

The Pleasure Seeker's Gift Guide 

First of all, it's always felt to me like this should be the one that you "forward to your SO." It's the slutty gift guide! Who else are you sending it to, your mom? If so...yikes! 

Kiki de Montparnasse Advent Calendar, $1285. There is no advent calendar in the world worth $1285. And if there were, it certainly wouldn't be a sex calendar! If you're enough of a godless freak to be counting down the days to Christ's birth with a gift box full of sex aids, at least have the decency to make it yourself by just writing down different sexual favors on paper and putting them in a package you bought yourself at the craft store. You do not need to spend money on this! 

BonBon Originals Signature Tin, $65. We're really stretching the limits here of what I know Gwyneth means by "pleasure seeker," but I can't lie to you, those gummy fish are good. Go ahead and get this one for your mom — just don't tell her where you found it. 

Tomentosum Geranium Candle, $284. If you ever have the audacity to buy a $284 candle, it had better be the size of a 40-gallon drum. 

East Album Loving You, $460. I need you to know that this is an empty photo album. Rich people have to be stopped!!!

Never Have I Ever Game, $35. What the hell, sure. 

Joue Avec Moi Dice Set, $780. First of all, Kiki de Montparnasse truly is some kind of psyop convincing women they need to spend the equivalent of a small country's GDP in order to be sexy. You don't. Step away from the French lingerie. And second of all, these are just three little dice with sex ideas on them! Someone is selling this at Urban Outfitters right now for $25. If you see everything going on in the world and still think this is a good thing to spend $780 on, you do not deserve to see heaven.  

The Traveler's Gift Guide 

Long Haul Toiletry Bag, $690. A toiletry bag: fine gift for a traveler. This toiletry bag: stupid. Remember, you are a normal person. Whoever you're buying this for, at fanciest, probably carries an Away clamshell carryon that costs $300 and carries a full week's worth of belongings. Their current toiletry bag is a Clinique freebie that their mother got with the purchase of two skincare items in 2006. Upgrading it should, at maximum, cost you 40 bucks. 

Folding Beach Cart, $399. Is this what beach carts cost? Having no cart-needing children (and indeed rarely going to the beach), I don't know what one would normally pay for this. I worry it may in fact be $400, and I'm too afraid to Google it. 

7-Day Pill Compact, $26. I say this as the partner of a cancer patient: How many boxes do you need to store your pills??? If Gwyneth Paltrow reveals in six months that she's secretly dying of something, the absolute glut of pillboxes in this gift guide will have been our first clue. 

The Comb Keychain, $42. Setting aside the fact that this costs ten times what a comb should, I, uh, don't really want to do my hair with a comb that smacks against my front door or my car dashboard every time I use my keys. Either my travel brush can come with a case, or I can wait until I get home. 

Fieldbar Drinks Box, $229. You don't need to spend $229 on a cooler, but this one is cute. It arbitrarily passes the test for "luxury item Sarah finds acceptable." I will not be taking questions. 

Loro Piana Passport Cover, $600. If you have enough money to consider dropping $600 on a piece of leather to put your passport in, could I suggest that you instead give it to me, a person who could buy two full months of groceries with that amount of money? Thank you! 

Lymphatic Onesie, $198. Go into your closet, put on the skinny jeans and going out tops you wore to your college bar in 2012, and you will achieve the same head-to-toe compression effect that this garment does for absolutely free. Save your money and put it instead toward 1/3 of a passport cover! 

Happy gifting, my friends. 

Domerberry Album Review: The Life of a Showgirl

Greetings, my Swiftie countrymen. Did you think you'd gotten through a Taylor Swift album rollout without a Domerberry post? Were you assuming I'd broken free of the Faustian deal binding me to release a thousand-word essay in exchange for each new set of Taylor tunes? 

If so, my friends, you were wrong — I was just slow and lazy this time. 

In truth, I can't let a Taylor album pass me by without taking the chance to yap about it — and, with The Life of a Showgirl, there is much to yap about. 

If I'd written this post based on my actual first-few-listens impressions, it would be a very different post than what you're going to read today. Taylor had given us a lot to get excited about before this album dropped: the visuals (the endless mother-bleeping visuals), the podcast chatter, the tracklist, even some preview lyrics. With all that taken together, I was expecting a shiny, flashy, dance-pop album. It's no secret here that I worship at the altar of Swedish hitmakers — let us not forget I flew to Sweden basically just to visit the ABBA Museum — and I expected that my boi Max Martin would, in concert with Taylor, produce a showgirl-worthy hits album for the ages. 

And that's...not really what we got with this. The first thing I heard from this album, bizarrely, was "Wi$h Li$t," when it came on via shuffle in an Uber on release morning — and my prevailing reaction was, "Oh no." That one, of all tracks, I expected to be a particularly brash, fun pop number (two dollar signs in the title!), but instead it's a slow jam about suburban heterosexuality! Imagine my dismay. 

The rest of the album, once I got to listen, was similarly jarring in its departure from expectations. There were songs I liked, but none were what I expected, and it took me a while to patch over that dissonance. 

Today, with a week of listens under my belt, I can tell you that I do quite like the album (with a couple of notable exceptions). It's certainly not the dud that I feared it was when I first heard "Wi$h Li$t," and which some corners of the internet still seem to believe it is. It's just a record with a marketing problem — and a reminder that this era of promo photos and pre-release teasers can come with a downside if what's promised doesn't match what's delivered.

With all that discussed, it's time for my traditional rundown of Tracks For Which I Have Strong Feelings or Good Jokes. Happy reading, my friends, and happy showgirling. 

The Fate of Ophelia. Good song, but, uh, little dark! Before you met famous himbo Travis Kelce, you were going to kill yourself? Feels strong to me, but hey, I guess I don't know the life of a showgirl. 

Opalite. Do you hear that? It's the sound of collegiate a capella singers everywhere foaming at the mouth over the "I can bring you lo-o-ove" buildup at 3:10. You know what though? It's a great song — let the children have it. If the Undertones had sung this in Washington Hall in the early 2010s, I would've gone feral. 

Eldest Daughter. LET DOWN. As an eldest daughter (factually and spiritually), this was my most anticipated song on the album, because I frankly expected it to have the swaggering energy she gave to "Father Figure" instead. Discovering that this number is in fact a sad girl ballad was the second-most depressing thing about this album. 

Ruin the Friendship. And here we have the most depressing thing! I shudder to imagine what the people of O'Hare saw on my face when I figured out that the protagonist here is deceased (RIP, king). My boyfriend put it best at the end of this song when he said, in the voice of Travis Kelce, "Taylor, I'm scared. Can we go back to the songs about our dicks now?" 

Also, in case there are any teenagers reading this, I have to say: This song is bad advice! The track record for high school friendships is much better than for high school sweethearts, and also, kissing someone who isn't expecting to kiss you is sexual assault! Sometimes it's okay to not do what Taylor says! 

Actually Romantic. Having a nemesis is one of life's great joys, and this song knows it. Anyone who's too upset about Charli XCX to enjoy this song is allergic to fun. 

Wi$h Li$t. Well, folks, we've found it: the point where I stop relating to Taylor Swift. The idea behind this number is romantic — I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings, for instance — but the delivery of it here is giving trad wife. If my options are block full of children or Real Madrid contract, sign me up for soccer camp. And leave those dollar signs out of this! 

Wood. Brave statement ahead: This is the best song on the album. People really lost it when this song came out because of what a "departure" it was for the typically buttoned-up Taylor Swift, but I don't think it is! This is Taylor being horny, but in a very Taylor way. She whispers "thighs" like it's a cheeky secret. She says "the curse on me was broken by your magic wand" — a winking lyric that she would absolutely have written at 20 when she was publishing "Enchanted" and, behind closed doors, writing "I can see you up against a wall with me." On top of that, this song isn't just thirsty for the sake of it. It tells a real, lyrically consistent story: I used to rely on all these superstitions, but I don't need to anymore because I have a love story that makes its own luck. Taylor could have written this song at any point in the last 20 years; she just needed age — and a partner she trusts — to actually put it out into the world. 

Yesterday alone, I probably listened to this album 10 times (thank you Taylor for hearing the criticism that TTPD was too damn long). I am grateful for new Taylor music in a year that's been slow on new albums that interest me. But, next time, I'll have to remember to not put much stock in whatever promo seems to suggest. Sometimes the girl just wants to put on hot little outfits and do a photo shoot, connections to the music of the album be damned. And you know what? That's show biz, baby. 

In Defense of The Suburbs

If you've ever spoken to me for more than ten minutes, you'll know that I generally hate suburbs. This is partly for all the reasons that it's currently en vogue to be anti-suburb — their spatial inefficiency, their whiteness, their terrible houses — and partly because I'm such a bad driver that my body basically shuts down if I spend too much time away from public transit.

Today, though, I am not here to complain about suburbs. Nay; for once in my life, I'm here to praise.

Because sometimes, friends, you need a suburb. Sometimes, you just have to turn off your pandemic-atrophied walking legs and have someone shuttle you around to malls, Top Golfs, and chain restaurants. 

I was reminded of this recently on one of the semi-annual jaunts that my boyfriend and I take to the suburbs, living as we do near the northern edge of the city. On this particular journey, we got exotic by suburban standards and had K-BBQ for dinner — not exactly the Red Lobster and Cheesecake Factory fare we usually go for, but still satisfyingly suburban given that this meal cost $29 per person for a literal all-you-can-eat meat feast. The city limits of Chicago contain many wonderful things, but bottomless bulgogi for under $30 is typically not among them. 

You know what else the city of Chicago barely has? Bath and Body Works. Freakin' Old Navy. Listen, I lurrrve my little walkable neighborhoods packed with small businesses, but sometimes you need a bottle of Peach Bellini hand soap and a pair of shorts that cost $15. Did I, just yesterday, take a 30-minute round-trip walk because I wanted to buy the new hot romance book from my local bookseller instead of the chain store I had literally seen it in hours before? Yes, I did. But that does not make me immune to the charms of rolling up to a shopping mall and knowing that, within 200 feet, you can find novels, nail polish, sporting goods, parkas, and pet supplies from a series of chain stores whose inventory you've had memorized since the Bush administration. 

Another perk of the suburbs are the kinds of giant, flourescent-lit businesses you can only fit into a town with irresponsibly low population density. Do you think they could fit a Medieval Times into midtown Manhattan? Could downtown LA support 300,000 square feet of IKEA? The answer (until urban planners in this country get far more creative) is no — and that's a key consideration one must make before declaring that suburbs should be yeeted off the planet. 

The reason that Patrick and I found ourselves in the 'burbs last week was just such a weird, giant business. The suburbs of Chicago, Milwaukee, and Indianapolis have one chain that is frankly unlike anything else I've ever encountered. It's called Sybaris, and — avert your eyes now, relatives and colleagues who know the place by its seedy reputation — we are obsessed with it. 

Sybaris Pool Suites is, to put it euphemestically, a couples' hotel. It's there for sex. But that is not why we've gone there three times in the last four years. We go for the pools. This place is a hotel where every room has a private pool in it.* Some of them have waterslides. Do you know how bananas that is as a concept? Do you know how much space that requires? A hotel like that could only exist in the suburbs, and because of that, Patrick and I will always have at least one reason to schlep ourselves to Northbrook. 

[*Note: Technically, some rooms only have hot tubs, but if you're booking those, you're a deviant. Truly why are you choosing this place if not for the pools?!]

If you need more convincing on the merits of Sybaris, then hey, twist my arm, I'll give it to you. The rooms also have massage chairs. The decor is three parts wood paneling and one part screenprinted palm-tree mural. There are no windows. The place gives 1970s basement in every way, yet it is also consistently the best-cleaned hotel I've ever stayed in.

I should really be on Sybaris' payroll at this point for the number of friends I've recommended the place to (now including you, I guess, dear reader who did not ask for this). But Sybaris should be on the payroll of these suburbs, for reminding us all that you don't need culture to have a good time; you just need a big, dumb swimming pool in a town a few miles up the highway.