[Dark Saint Alaick]

FOREWORD

On reading over the text of John Drury's book one is not merely persuaded that Chicago is a place to stop for more than a sandwich and a cuppa coffee. From page to page he hammers home the evidence that cooking skill and kitchen science has drifted to Chicago from the continents of Asia, Europe, Africa and the archipelagoes of the seven seas. The ancient declaration, "Man doth not live by bread alone," serves as a literal and materialistic text for Drury's rambles. The good eater who is proud of his repertoire at the table, who is a little vain about his talent at handling a knife and fork for the guidance of victuals, must acknowledge that if he can't find a place for performance -- after listening to Drury on when and where to go -- something is wrong.
Of course there are a couple of million people in the Windy City who never go into the general run of these places. A single course of the food at some of the more elaborate emporiums would be a tasty square meal for many of these people.
There are, however, those who would like to eat first hither and then yon every day in the week, with no two days alike. Also there are the people who have drawn extra pay or had a ship come home or made a killing in a crap game. Also there are the folks who get tired of the home cooking, the delicatessen, the kitchenette, and wish an evening of change. If any of these get sore at Drury, that's ingratitude. Those who refuse to thank him are ingrates who probably happen to be off their feed, as the farmhands say.
Furthermore, there are the citizens like the present writer who have a high batting average and fielding average in the one- arm joints where the taxi drivers mention "rusta biff" knowing just whom they are kidding. These citizens can enjoy reading about where to eat and thereafter converse more intelligently about such food establishments as have personality, savor, and savoir faire.
Authorities in folk lore credit Chicago with the origin of the tale of the two garbage wagon drivers stopping to pass the time near a house into which had moved a new family. The driver who had in his official capacity served them that morning was asked what kind of people they were. He replied, "I don't know. All I know is they got swell swill."

Carl Sandburg