CHICAGO, IL. This is a story I've been writing my entire life. As a person who was born and raised in Chicago, it's in my blood. It's in the cells that make up my body. A makeup that slowly built up over time as I ate each meal and grew from a tiny child into a not-much-taller adult.
My mother and I didn't agree on a lot, but one thing I thought was particularly strange was that even though she was generally (in my view, at least) overprotective, one thing she had absolutely no trouble letting me do from a young age was take the Brown or Red Line downtown and walk around.
And truthfully, as a kid who grew up either taking the CTA (Chicago's public transit system) or walking everywhere, I grew the kind of situational awareness that city kids often do. I could tell when or if things felt sketchy, as well as if I was safe. I wore headphones everywhere I went, and I bounced around listening to my music. Most of all, I very rarely felt unsafe, no matter where I went. The one time I can recall feeling unsafe was, in fact, riding my scooter out on the far northwest side of the city late one night after coming home from my evening culinary school classes.
I was tired, and I was ready to go home, but there was a red light. As I sat there, some large, drunk guy stumbled over and seemed like he was going to try to climb up onto my pillion seat and go for a ride. Lucky for me, the light changed in time, and me and all 400cc of my mighty scooter were able to pull away without any stowaways.
Why am I telling you all of this? Because, as I said, Chicago is in my blood. So I know a thing or two about it, and about what makes this city amazing. That's why I wanted to take the 2026 Royal Enfield Guerrilla 450 to some of the filming locations from the FX TV series The Bear, which also showcases what makes this city great. And speaking as someone who also used to cook professionally and who attended culinary school in Chicago, I kind of felt like it's something I could have a unique insight into that I could share with you, you know?
But I don't exist in a vacuum, and neither do you. We live in a world where the city where I was born and raised is currently being unfairly demonized. While it's not a perfect place (what place is?), it's a good place, filled with good people of all descriptions. And yes, delicious food, too. How could it not be? People gotta eat, yo. And most of us, we like our food to taste good.
There's a scene toward the first season of The Bear, where Marcus (Lionel Boyce) is utterly entranced by the beautiful donuts he's seeing at Roeser's Bakery. He's obsessed with learning how to make them, and he explains later that he wants to bring the same indescribable level of full-body joy he feels from really fantastic pastries to the people he feeds.
It's definitely not exclusive to pastry, but I can tell you right now that some variation of that fixation is almost always the goal shared by anyone who gets into a kitchen and tries to feed people they care about. Also, it doesn't matter whether money is changing hands; all real good cooks in home kitchens and restaurants everywhere know that our heart is in our hands, and it's in also in our food.
And you can taste it, always—if the food is any good.
For me, the childhood love was Dinkel's Bakery, which sadly no longer exists. So I unfortunately couldn't visit it and shoot any photos there, nor indulge in any delicious baked treats. RIP, Dinkel's. But it's both an honor and a privilege to show you around some of the best that my hometown has to offer, thanks to the ease with which I can zip around and through traffic on this Guerrilla 450.
There's a little parking lot next to The Original Mr. Beef down on Orleans, which fans of The Bear likely know very well from their screens, even if they've never made the pilgrimage. Free parking is on offer for customers, and street parking is provided by the city's utterly enraging long-term, Daley-era parking deal.
The smells pull you in as you roll by, even if you don't pay attention to the signage and see where you are. And the combination of herbs and spices and meat is almost better advertising than the signs, or the TV show, if you smell it.
Chicago is a city of neighborhoods, and that's what makes it ideal to explore on a bike like the Guerrilla 450. It's small, nimble, incredibly easy to handle at low speeds—seriously, I can't tell you how many times I thought I was going to have to put a foot down at a stop sign, but then I didn't because the balance was that good.
Stop-and-go traffic is a snap on it, and it took me wherever I needed to go with ease. And while I'm certainly used to hearing navigation in my ears via my Bluetooth headset, having the visual showing me that I'm going to need to turn left in 492 feet on my dash is extremely helpful.
Throughout every neighborhood, though, you'll find an untold array of fantastic local cooks, making all kinds of unbelievable foods. From tried, true, and traditional favorites, to entirely new creations that probably wouldn't exist if we weren't a massive mix of cultures all working together to live our lives and feed each other, that's our strength.
Those Korean chicken wings you love? Born right here in Chicago, a finger-licking brain child of Korean and Chinese chefs that you can't help but adore if you so much as smell it (let alone eat it). You can find them lots of places now (just like me), but they came from the Windy City originally (also just like me).
Now, I'm not going to claim that we're the only city that puts chicken shawarma on pizza. And I would certainly hope that we aren't, because it's delicious, and you totally SHOULD put shawarma on pizza.
What I will tell you, and what I think is inarguable, is that Chicago is a city known for its pizza. The tourist guides will tell you all about the deep dish, and have tired arguments over which place (usually Giordano's, Uno's, or Lou Malnati's) is the best. (They're all wrong; it's Art of Pizza or nothing, fools. But the guide books will never tell you that.)
But the real ones know it's all about the tavern cut, with a super thin and crispy crust. Or, if it's pie cut, still a crispy, thin crust like this gorgeous chicken shawarma example from Taza Bakery.
And more than that, I think this pizza exemplifies what's great about mixing cultures and traditions in a city like Chicago; the fact that people can take some of the best food traditions of different cultures, then bring them together in such a glorious, delicious way.
Venture outside the city and into the greater Chicagoland area, and you'll find more of what makes this region and its people so great. We recently got the area's first 85C Bakery and Cafe, and it's in Niles (right by the Super H-Mart, if you're local). For those unfamiliar, it's a Taiwanese bakery and cafe known for both coffee and tea drinks, and delightful breads and sweets.
Like this ethereally light mango crème brûlée slice and strawberry matcha oat latte.
And another thing that's consistently great about the greater Chicago area is that you're never, ever far away from excellent tacos. Especially on as sturdy and up-for-anything a steed as the Royal Enfield Guerrilla 450.
Chicago is a city with heart, and so many delicious flavors, you'll probably never eat them all. And it's all only possible because of all the amazing people who live here, and who regularly give of themselves and their ancestors to share their unique takes on the intangible cultural heritage that is our collective foodways.
When you get two cooks into a kitchen, even if we didn't enter as friends (or even know each other), we'll start to understand each other by cooking. Because even though we might not have anything else in common, how we cook tells you everything you need to know about who we are.
Chicago is a city that knows how to cook. And so is Royal Enfield (well, a brand, not a city, but you get the idea).
The Royal Enfield Guerrilla 450 continues to take all the things I love about the Hunter 350 and add just a little bit more power to the mix, as if you need to get on 90 or 94 or 290 or even 55 in Chicago and also zip through the city streets and find yourself some great food.
So if you've ever thought to yourself, "Where can I find a delightfully light brioche donut filled with ube cream?", then you, my friend, need to head to Dear Donuts.
They have both regular flavors and special, limited-time-only flavors every month. There are also Korean-style corn dogs if you want something more savory, as well as delicious boba, coffee, and tea drinks in an incredibly cute and inviting space. Because the thing is, the entire Chicago region is filled with excellent people from all kinds of backgrounds, who are making and sharing equally excellent food with anyone who cares to try it.
In addition to getting the first 85C Bakery in the area, do you know what else recently opened out in a different Chicago suburb (Bloomingdale, to be specific)? The very first location of The Matka Khichdi in North America, that's what.
There are many locations across India, as well as three currently listed as existing overseas. One is in Melbourne, Australia. Another is in Wembley, UK. And the third (and most recently opened) is in a humble Chicago suburb. I'm here to tell you that the food is delightful.
But toward the beginning of The Bear's first season, the folks who've been working at The Original Beef (the name of the place in the show, slightly altered from its real-life name) all along are initially mistrustful of our main character, Carmy (Jeremy Allen White). It's totally understandable; he underwent professional culinary training, left the city for the alien fine dining world elsewhere, was named to a bunch of Best New Chef lists, and seemingly flamed out.
Professional kitchens are tough, and there are a lot of assholes. A lot of amazing people, too; but the thing is, cooking professionally is a lot like a pressure cooker for personalities. You're gonna get THE MOST of everyone's main ingredients in that particular environment, you know? It's intense, and you're all kind of sitting on the back burner, stewing away until you either cohere into something disturbingly delicious, or you boil over.
Sometimes, it's both!
And the thing is, cooking school can teach you a lot about technique and skill. What it can't teach you about is heart; that's something you have to bring to any kitchen you work in. So, the initial conflicts in the show arise from the OG Original Beef crew having a bit of a chip on their shoulder about the new fancy guy coming in and messing up their established system. And probably thinking he's better than them because of all his fancy training.
But he isn't, and he doesn't, and that surprises them as everyone gets to know each other by working together. He wants to change some things to make them work better as a team, but he lays out the reasons for why and makes his case like the regular guy he is.
And pretty soon, he starts to win them over, and they start to get much stronger as a team. It doesn't go perfectly; as I said, professional kitchens are pressure cookers, and crazy pressure (like any time you get slammed with orders to the point where you feel like you'll never, ever be out of the weeds) drives people to take extraordinary measures.
It feels genuine, because it is. It's a show, but it's also clearly a well-informed one; both about kitchens, and also about Chicago and what makes us amazing. Because whatever you want, Chicago probably has so many options to fill your stomach, your heart, and your mind that you'll never get through them all.
All you have to do is ride. And open your eyes.
