The weekend is looking forward to your acceptance speech.
You and Charlie Trotter may be on a first-name basis, but there's just no competing with mom's home cooking...especially if she happens to have been a Mexican restaurateur who passed along recipes for enchiladas mole, shrimp guajillo and roasted-pineapple-and-white-pepper mojitos. Mom did love her rum so.
International doughnut season has officially begun, now that Zullo's, the purveyor of scrumptious cinnamon-and-sugar-dusted apple-cider zeppole (think: Italian Munchkins), has opened a stall at the Chicago French Market, meaning you don't have to go to the Green City Market to find them. Let the espresso dunking begin.
The anguish, the angst, the utter lack of sleeves on Emilio Estevez: the silver screen just couldn't contain it all, so The Breakfast Club finally gets the medium it deserves—by which we mean the staged musical—to fully express its deep-rooted North Shore teen heartbreak. This should encourage you to finally finish that Sixteen Candles operetta you've been composing.
After wrapping your head around the new Johnny Depp/Tim Burton version of Alice in Wonderland, you're going to need a complimentary cocktail...and leggy models...and a giant maze to get lost in. So it sounds like Enclave is volunteering to be your Friday night rabbit hole.
You're always up for a good Saturday afternoon spectacle, so be on hand as 100 five-person teams pull garish shopping carts through the city on this wild scavenger hunt/race/food drive. Winners receive cash, wacky prizes and awards for things like best mustache wax and being "Dead F*ing Last." Take note, IOC.
