An embarrassment of riches just landed on the corner of California and Augusta. Cigars. Beer. Burgers.
Donuts. Coffee. Cocktails. Coffee cocktails. Naughty tiki mugs? Sure, okay. Those, too.
First up, C.C.Ferns (pictured left). It’s open now.
The pedigree: Brendan Sodikoff’s Hogsalt—it’s linked to California Clipper through the back and to Doughnut Vault through the pastries on the counter.
The scene: A Korean War vet’s rec room circa 1961. Oh, you know: mid-century furniture, South Seas adventure posters, topless tiki mugs, cigars.
You’re there for: Coffee. Stocking up on cigars.
Unless you have a thing for: Spiked coffee, like the rum-enhanced Cuban Latté.
Now on to Haywood Tavern, also open now.
The pedigree: A collusion of Humboldt Park industry vets—a chef and a bar manager, plus a little help from a party photographer. Yes, that old triumvirate.
The scene: Wooden tables. Sturdy bar. The kind of blue-collar beer joint that’s beckoned neighbors with beef tartare, Parisienne gnocchi and Bordeaux for eons. “Blue-collar” may have been inaccurate.
You’re there for: Meeting friends for Aspall dry English cider and sharp-cheddar burgers. Maybe a $5 beer-and-a-shot.
Unless you have a thing for: Drinks with ridiculously extravagant names like the tequila/mezcal/Chartreuse concoction called Execution of Emperor Maximillian.
Please. Call it Max.
First up, C.C.Ferns (pictured left). It’s open now.
The pedigree: Brendan Sodikoff’s Hogsalt—it’s linked to California Clipper through the back and to Doughnut Vault through the pastries on the counter.
The scene: A Korean War vet’s rec room circa 1961. Oh, you know: mid-century furniture, South Seas adventure posters, topless tiki mugs, cigars.
You’re there for: Coffee. Stocking up on cigars.
Unless you have a thing for: Spiked coffee, like the rum-enhanced Cuban Latté.
Now on to Haywood Tavern, also open now.
The pedigree: A collusion of Humboldt Park industry vets—a chef and a bar manager, plus a little help from a party photographer. Yes, that old triumvirate.
The scene: Wooden tables. Sturdy bar. The kind of blue-collar beer joint that’s beckoned neighbors with beef tartare, Parisienne gnocchi and Bordeaux for eons. “Blue-collar” may have been inaccurate.
You’re there for: Meeting friends for Aspall dry English cider and sharp-cheddar burgers. Maybe a $5 beer-and-a-shot.
Unless you have a thing for: Drinks with ridiculously extravagant names like the tequila/mezcal/Chartreuse concoction called Execution of Emperor Maximillian.
Please. Call it Max.
