Home sweet home, Chicago....

I took some of my Indy friends up a couple winters ago to see the splendors of Michigan Avenue and also to hunt down the elusive Kwanzaa tree at Marshall Fields.

We had dinner that evening at the Italian Village -- which recreate indoors the feeling of being in an outdoor villa restaurant. The waiter came to take the wine order -- and offered something other than a chianti (though nice with fava beans) or Valpolicella. He noticed my expression at the price and said he'd make a deal with us -- on dessert. The wine was splendid and the Tiramisu out of this world. And, negotiating over dinner, I knew I was home.

Jay