Ricobene's Review
Ray Varghese Madathil
On a cold, windy Chicago winter’s eve, there’s no better way to warm up than an artery-clogging expedition to a true Chicago institution: Ricobene’s.
Since opening its doors on West 26th Street in Bridgeport in 1946, Ricobene’s has been a late-night favourite for Chicagoans who have been loyal customers since their youth. Don’t just take it from me; upon your arrival, you are liable to hear it from a boisterous table of old-heads, hunched over Italian-American favorites or an infamous Chicago-style pie and ice-cold pitchers of beer. Ricobene’s is a true working-class staple—it is patronised by everyone from DePaul students to construction workers, families out for Sunday lunch, or White Sox fans grabbing a bite after a game at Rate Field. Ricobene’s runs like a well-oiled machine: condiment stations are stocked and ready, multiple cashiers stand vigil over their respective registers, and a digital display is tossing up order numbers seconds after the food appears on the counter. Make no mistake: while it has the charm and history of an old family restaurant, with ceiling fans and black and white tiles to match the photos on the walls, the kitchen runs with military precision—my order was up scarcely after I returned to my seat.
Despite the broad menu, serving everything from the classic Chicago dog to plates of rib tips and barbecue chicken, one item stands tall amongst the rest and is responsible for putting Ricobene’s on the map: the breaded steak sandwich. Named the “World’s Best Sandwich” by USA Today, the breaded steak is American excess in sandwich form— unapologetic, indulgent, and entirely indifferent to moderation. To the question of why create such a vehicle of pure hedonism, the answer is obvious: because you can.
This Midwestern monster consists of a giant, breadcrumb-coated beef cutlet, dunked in marinara, wrapped around a generous mound of shredded mozzarella, and customarily served with hot giardiniera, though it's a make-your-own masterpiece. The cutlet is folded over itself to fit within a French roll and is served hot. Be prepared with napkins (and maybe a fork and knife), because this is not the kind of sandwich that can be eaten over a game of cards. A king-size sandwich easily feeds two (with enough calories for four). The sandwich was everything I expected: tender, cheesy, with that classic, satisfying marinara that is a hallmark of old-school American flavour, with the salinity and tartness of the giardiniera to cut through it. As soon as I unwrapped the sandwich, I was hit with steam rising off the cutlet, melting the mozzarella nestled within into elastic strands. The soft, pillowy Turano Bakery French roll, a Chicago staple in its own right, tries valiantly to contain it, but will inevitably become saturated with sauce and likely fall apart before you are halfway through the sandwich. The breaded steak is so popular that it has even spawned its own pizza variant: the breaded steak pizza.
In addition to its flagship breaded steak, the south-side institution is also known for its Chicken Vesuvio, a deep-fried breaded chicken cutlet dipped in garlic butter and served with mayonnaise, lettuce, and tomatoes (because this is clearly a healthy option). If you decide to take the short trip over to Bridgeport, be sure to take the advice of rapper and food enthusiast Action Bronson and bring baby wipes along with a big appetite. In a city increasingly defined by tasting menus and Michelin stars, Ricobene’s remains gloriously unchanged: folding a deep-fried steak in half, drowning it in marinara, and daring you to finish it.
