Burt's Place in Morton Grove

I went here last night with some Collective kids because of Anthony Bourdain:


A few things Bourdain didn't go over (but I knew in advance thanks to Yelp):
- Burt and Sharon run a TIGHT ship. As in, if you don't call ahead and reserve both your time AND your order, they will get very flustered and you stand a good chance of not only being turned away, but also getting scolded.
- Following on from the previous point, be sure to show up on time.
- No serving yourself this pizza. Sharon puts it down at ANOTHER table and serves you slices herself. Want another one? You're gonna wait.

It was a rainy and blustery trip out to the MG whereupon I parked myself in front of this:



That crumbling gazebo just right of the restaurant proper is indescribable. Approaching Saw territory. And if you thought Burt's Place looked intimidating from the outside...



Okay so this doesn't look so elitist-club-ariffic from the picture, but what if I told you you were looking at fully 1/2 of the dining space in the establishment?

Bourdain didn't just call out Burt and Sharon for the shoot either; they pretty much do this coming-out-and-shooting-the-breeze thing with every customer in the place, often unpredictably. And since they demand that you call ahead, they know the first name of at least one person at every table, and don't hesitate to use that name every time they come back to you. They also don't hesitate to razz you for such transgressions as having party members show up late ("this pizza is really good when it's warm") or changing party size ("maybe next time you'll learn how to count").

I've enumerated all the amusing/bemusing aspects of the experience so far. The pizza, nevertheless, is super terrific - moments-out-of-the-oven fresh, not drowning in cheese (and thus made to be enjoyed by the lactose-intolerant), dough from heaven. If you ever wanted to be in an episode of Seinfeld (you know which one I'm talking about) right here in Chicago, you know where to go.