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You can still be a kid at heart when you order one of these youthful favorites with a grownup flair.

Tuesday May 20, 2008.     By K. Tighe

Food Feed

I quiver at the thought of bacon-wrapped quail, salivate at the mere mention of heirloom tomatoes and am counting down the minutes until I can get my hands on some foie gras. But there's still a large part of me that can't get over those childhood favorites. Sure, they weren't local, seasonal, tidy or even very healthy, but nothing offers more comfort than the foods we ate growing up. Fortunately, many Chicago chefs have a nostalgic streak, too, whipping up these grownup versions of classic kid dishes.

CB&J at Hopleaf
If there's any dish that immediately sends you back to the warm and fuzzy embrace of your childhood, the timeless combo of peanut butter and jelly between sliced bread is it. That gooey marriage of creamy peanut butter, grape jelly and fluffy pieces of Wonder Bread has seen generations through scraped knees, youthful crushes and endless piles of homework—but this old favorite is a bit too sticky and processed to justify us eating it as adults. And while we still love peanut butter (and the wonderful Peanut Farmers of America, lame CTA ads and all), our aging palates crave something a little more indulgent.

Thank goodness for the Hopleaf's CB&J sandwich ($10). Decadent house-made cashew butter is smeared on sourdough, dressed with earthy fig jam and deliriously stinky Morbier cheese, and then fried to perfection. A surprising balance of salty and sweet, it's a gourmet spin on the ultimate childhood standby.

Grilled cheese at one sixtyblue
Almost everyone has a personal recipe for the perfect grilled cheese. Mine pays homage to my Baltimore upbringing: smear Country Crock on the outside of two pieces of white bread, add two slices of individually packaged American cheese, grill and then serve with condensed Campbell's soup. Knowing what I do about the food industry, I die a little inside each time I eat this meal, but what kind of quality of life is there without a grilled cheese now and again?

Significantly upping the ante on this essential throwback, one sixtyblue offers four classed-up versions of grilled cheese on its cheese bar menu ($13 each and you can add cheese fondue for $6). Small batch farm goat cheese far outshines the waxen tradition of Kraft singles in the Grilled Capriole Farm Goat Cheese sandwich, which matches the tangy bite of the creamy cheese with lemon vinaigrette, balsamic reduction and a refreshing apple salad—all held together by a golden house-made brioche.

Sloppy joe at Silver Cloud
The inventor of the sloppy joe was a true genius—or perhaps a major stockholder in some laundry detergent corporation. This classic weekday dish of sweet tomato sauce barely holding together a mess of seasoned ground beef is cheap and easy for moms—but more important, gives kids the green light for making a mess. But as good as this slop-on-a-bun tastes, the notion of eating one in public is enough to make any self-respecting grownup cringe.

Enter the Zagat-lauded Famous Sloppy Joe at Silver Cloud ($6.95 or $7.45 with cheese), which comes with (what else?) a side of tater tots. The perfect marriage of sweet tomato sauce and savory beef, Silver Cloud's take on the sloppy joe is leagues ahead of the canned stuff. It's still messy as hell, but you'll be just one of many adults trying to corral the sandwich into your mouth as sauce drips down the chin. Wash the whole thing down with a can of PBR, or pay homage to your childhood fondness for apple juice by ordering a Woodchuck Cider on draft. Show up on a Tuesday for the special, when it only costs two bucks.

Croquettes at Chaise Lounge
In this post-"Super Size Me" food climate, most of us won't touch a Happy Meal with a 10-foot pole, instead opting to dig through the freezer section at Trader Joe's for soy imitations whenever the craving for a chicken nugget hits. Poor little breaded chicken morsels; they never stood a chance in the adult diet.

That is, until Bucktown's Chaise Lounge turned nuggets into the garlicky croquette appetizer ($12). Although Chaise's menu skews upscale contemporary American, these little nibbles lean heavily on classic flavors and the decidedly downscale profile of "finger food." Dainty grilled chicken croquettes come stuffed with roasted garlic, salty jamon Serrano and pungent liquid Swiss; the savory center comes oozing out upon the first bite. The appetizer portion is ideal for sharing, but we have a sneaking suspicion you'll eat 'em all yourself.