That Weird Lunch Place: Muskie's

Every day, on the way to your regular lunch spot, it's there. Taunting you, mysterious. And maybe you think, "Tomorrow. I'll eat there tomorrow." But it never happens. That weird lunch place will forever fall to other, more familiar options. That's where this appropriately titled column comes in: The A.V. Club, unable to resist the allure of neglected restaurants any longer, sets out to expand its lunch horizons.

Muskie's (2878 N. Lincoln Ave., 773-883-1633)

Allure: Maybe it's the years I spent at summer camp in the Northwoods of Wisconsin (or those living within striking distance of the Wiener's Circle), but I always get a hankering for char dogs and char burgers late at night. Smokey, searing hot meat that reminds me fondly of summer evenings, when you're starving from running around all afternoon and fine with getting your hands greasy with a quick meal to wind down the day. Thus I often forget Muskie's is within walking distance of my home office until it's 10 or 11 p.m. But that's precisely the problem: I've never passed by the unassuming, red-and-white counter-service stand and seen it open. 

Atmosphere: Prying myself away from the computer one dreary winter's day, I made my way over to the quiet stretch of Lincoln where Muskie's resides—sticking out across from the Elbo Room and next to a row of new brick storefronts. I had to get up close to see any signs of life: Two employees worked behind the window, and one quiet man chowed down on a burger as he glanced alternately at his laptop and out the windows that surround the joint.   Though it was quiet inside, one of the employees smiled as I entered. He was affable and to-the-point, compelling in a way you couldn't say no to—like talking to your anesthesiologist. Given the small confines adorned with red stools and little signage (a large Coca-Cola logo is painted on the wall, and a lone neon hot dog hangs off to the side), I was immediately overwhelmed with good vibes.

Service: The manager and his employee stepped up to the register to take my order, listening intently to my special requests (medium rare) and patiently listing the ingredients on the “super char” (standard burger fare). When I was short a few bucks, they politely informed me that they take cash only, and that they'd hold off on cooking my order until I could hit up an ATM so it wouldn't get cold. I didn't have to remind them when I re-entered, as the burger was immediately on the grill.

Food: The menu boasts a few burgers, a few hot dogs, and some chicken dishes, including a Cajun spice-soaked chicken breast sandwich glowing orange from the marinade (a popular choice). All menu items were under a few bucks; my burger, cheese fries, and a drink were about $7 combined. The burger was so-so, with a flavor that tasted more char than char burger and oozing with—for lack of a better term—meat juice. The toppings were also fairly blah, with sad, shriveled, shredded lettuce falling off to the sides. The fries, though, were something else. Thinly cut and extra crispy, they made for the perfect foil to the familiar hot-dog-stand cheese sauce.

Is it really that weird? No, it's more familiar than I had anticipated. I wasn't wild about the burger, but it did help me forget about winter doldrums for a bit. Add in the titular muskie hanging over the door and those stellar fries, and Muskie's is worth developing cravings for.