Moshie’s Pippic

Moshie’s Pippic seems more than a little out of place on Hayes St. It’s not hip, it’s not young, it’s not stylish. It’s a wonder how this little Chicago-style deli with newspapers covering the window in such a fashion as to leave passersby wondering whether or not it’s still a functioning establishment has stayed in the same spot for years, especially considering how so many other eateries just a few doors down the street are disappearing and new ones are taking their place in what appears to be a monthly rotation.

Walking along Hayes and passing its small storefront countless times, I wondered what was behind that newspaper covered window and if I’d ever eat there. But, wonder no longer. Scott and I walked past it as we were on our way to check out the war rally. He wanted a bagel and lox and I had a strange craving for a hot dog. And, to our luck, Moshie’s was open and the menu touted bagels and hot dogs.

Inside the small darkish room, an aging middle-aged man stood behind the counter, greeting us with a friendly hello. Pictures of celebrities with thank you’s to Moshie’s hung on the walls next to posters of Wrigley Field. And, an elderly couple shared a pastrami sandwich.

Scott and I ordered the Chimesky (I have no idea how to spell it), which was two hot dogs (although I chose two Polish sausages) topped with chili, cheese, and onions to share, a potato knish, and the lox plate. When our food arrived, the friendly man who had questioned our taking of his newspaper placed it all in front of me. I had a new crush.

We ate the dual hotdogs on an open-faced single bun placed on a sheet of wax paper with plastic utensils. The onions that topped it could have been chopped a bit finer and the cheese could have been shredded rather than sliced into small squares, but the sausage was satisfying. My potato knish was chewy, and with the first bite I remembered that I’ve actually never had a potato knish before. I had no idea if it was supposed to be chewy or not. The knish, however, worked as a good bland sponge to soak up the chili. I washed it all down with a Coke, straight of the can and with no ice, since, as I was told, “It’s the only thing [we] don’t have.”