Nothing says “romantic Valentine’s Day dinner” like picking up an animal bone, stripping the meat with your teeth, then licking your fingers clean when you’re done.
That’s right: Cannibalism. What, what? No! Ribs. (Non-human ones!)
Took the Missus to Twin Anchors, which I consider the best ribs in the city. Now she thinks so, too.
We’re not the only ones, either. Word on the street is that Conan O’Brien eats here every time he comes to Chicago. I asked our waitress, and she said she’d waited on Conan and his wife several times. Turns out, Conan and I have quite a few things in common. We’re both extremely, very, incredibly, extremely funny. Also, we’re both good tippers. (But I paid the waitress to say that…) And, according to her, we both order our ribs with Twin Anchors’ zesty sauce and a side of onion rings.
I’ve only been here a couple times in the dozen years I’ve lived in Chicago. I need to make it a more frequent occurrence. Meat absolutely falls off the bone, the ambiance is old-school Chicago and it’s worth every modest penny.







