What's the food culture in Chicago?

The Chicago-style hot dog has seven fixed toppings and zero room for negotiation. Yellow mustard, neon-green relish, chopped white onion, a dill pickle spear, tomato wedges, two sport peppers, and a shake of celery salt, all on a steamed poppy seed bun with a Vienna beef frank. No ketchup. Gene & Jude's in River Grove has been serving them without ketchup since 1946, and the counter staff will still look at you sideways if you ask. Superdawg on Milwaukee Avenue, open since 1948, adds a larger proprietary frank and a box of crinkle-cut fries underneath. Italian beef is the other half of the equation. Al's #1 Italian Beef on Taylor Street has operated since 1938. You order "dipped" (the whole roll dunked in the jus) with hot giardiniera, and the beef is thin-sliced, slow-roasted, and soaked until the bread starts falling apart in your hands. Johnnie's Beef in Elmwood Park might be better. The jus there is thinner, sharper, and the peppers have more vinegar bite. Worth the 20-minute drive west.

Tourists line up for deep-dish at Giordano's on Rush Street. Locals tend to go to Lou Malnati's, where the buttercrust version at the original Lincolnwood location, open since 1971, has a flaky, almost shortbread-like shell with chunky tomato sauce ladled on top of the mozzarella. Pequod's in Lincoln Park does something different. Their pan pizza develops a caramelized cheese crust around the edges, blackened and crunchy, that tastes closer to Detroit-style than classic Chicago deep-dish. That said, the pizza most Chicagoans actually eat on a Tuesday night is tavern-style thin crust, cut into squares, not slices. Vito & Nick's on Pulaski Road, open since 1932, serves a cracker-thin crust with a sausage patty that covers the entire pie. Pat's Pizza on Lincoln Avenue is another solid option. The square-cut matters. You eat from the middle out, and the corner pieces are all crust, meant for the end of the meal or the kid who wants a snack.

Skip the Magnificent Mile for meals. The best eating in Chicago happens in residential neighborhoods where the rent is low enough that a family can run a kitchen for 30 years. Pilsen, south of 18th Street along Blue Island Avenue, is the city's Mexican-food center. Birrieria Zaragoza on South Pulaski Road serves goat birria, slow-braised in dried chiles and ladled out with consomme for dipping your tortillas. It closes when the goat runs out, usually by 4pm on weekends. Devon Avenue on the far north side, between Western and California, is lined with Indian and Pakistani restaurants. Sabri Nihari has been serving nihari, a slow-cooked beef shank stew thick with wheat flour and cardamom, since the early 1990s, eaten with fresh naan torn by hand. Argyle Street in Uptown is the Vietnamese corridor. Tank Noodle has had hour-long waits for pho since the mid-1990s, though Hai Yen across the street tends to be quicker with comparable banh mi for around $6. The jibarito, a sandwich made with fried green plantain instead of bread, was invented in 1996 at Borinquen Restaurant in Humboldt Park. It's still on the menu.

Chicago eats on a Midwestern schedule. Breakfast runs 7-9am on weekdays, brunch 10am-1pm on weekends, and the brunch lines at spots like Lula Cafe in Logan Square or Ann Sather on Belmont can hit 45 minutes by 11am. Lunch is noon to 1:30pm, and dinner starts at 6pm, not 8pm. Most neighborhood restaurants stop seating by 9:30pm on weeknights. Late-night options exist but they concentrate in Wicker Park, Logan Square, and along Milwaukee Avenue. Big Star in Wicker Park serves tacos until midnight on weekends, and the whiskey-and-taco combination at their patio bar, crowded and loud on summer nights, is one of the better ways to close out an evening. For food markets, the Maxwell Street Market on Desplaines Street runs Sundays from 7am to 3pm. The smell of grilled elote and chorizo hits you from a block away. Vendors sell tamales, mangonadas, and esquites for $3-5. It feels more like a Mexico City tianguis than a farmers' market. The French Market in the West Loop, open weekdays inside the Ogilvie Transportation Center, skews more upscale with charcuterie, crepes, and $12 grain bowls.