The following are updated installments of the Friday sections World Eats column by Judy Hevrdejs, Margaret Sheridan and Monica Eng.
SCANDINAVIAN FRUIT SOUP
Savoring soup on a steamy summer day may seem incongruous, unless the soup is the cold blueberry version served at Tre Kronor (3258 W. Foster Ave.; 773-267-9888). It’s sweet, soothing and a great change from the usual cobbler-pie-shortcake syndrome that blueberry lovers often face. It is typical of the Scandinavian fruit soups that can be served on hot days as an entree. At Tre Kronor, it is usually served as a dessert with a dollop of whipped cream and a sprinkling of sliced almonds ($2.95 a cup). Because fruit soups are such classics in Scandinavia, delis and food shops throughout Andersonville sell packaged versions of blabarssoppa (blueberry soup), plus strawberry and raspberry, among others.
POT BIN SOO
Beans are associated with a lot of things in Western culture, but dessert is not one them. Still, if you head toward Asia, you’ll find sweet beans aplenty in pastries, fritters and other sweet confections. And on a hot summer day, one of our favorite ways to enjoy these luscious legumes is in the Korean cafe treat pot bin soo. This layered dessert starts with a bed of crushed ice, covered by almost chocolatey sweet red beans, blanketed a spoon of fruit cocktail and finally topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Depending on the chef, the dish also might include fresh fruit, a dusting of malt powder and cubes of glutinous rice cake. After you get a gander at this gorgeous creation, mush it all together so the flavors, textures and temperatures can embrace. Served mostly in summertime, this icy confection can be found at New York Bakery (3455 W. Lawrence Ave., 773-604-8820; $5), Coffee Time (3247 W. Bryn Mawr Ave., 773-463-3937; $4.99) and Outdoor Cafe (3257 W. Bryn Mawr Ave., 773-866-1903; $4.95).
AGUA DE JAMAICA
In Egypt, they call it karkade. In Jamaica, they call it sorrel drink. In Mexico, they call it agua de Jamaica. We call this scarlet hibiscus drink the perfect hot-weather beverage. Flavorwise, it resembles a tangy mix of tamarind, cranberry and mango. Colorwise, it resembles deep red Kool-Aid. But unlike Kool-Aid, the color is natural, derived from boiling red hibiscus flowers in water and adding sugar and ice. You can find the dried flowers for these drinks (and even a Mexican pre-sugared mix) at many ethnic groceries like Holy Land Grocery (4806 N. Kedzie Ave.; 773-588-3306) where a packet for karkade sells for $2. Since we last wrote about it, our only Egyptian karkade drinkmaker closed down. But you can still find fine garnet colored aguas de Jamaica at most Mexican eateries like Los Comales (1544 W. 18th St.; 312-666-2251) where it sells for 75 cents and at Linette’s Jamaican Kitchen (7366 N. Clark St.; 773-761-4823) where she brews up her own sorrel drink and sells bottles of it for $4. Here’s to beating the heat.
LASSI, AYRAN, DOGH
When the weather gets hot, Chicagoans may reach for lemonade or a frosty beer. But in many parts of the Persian, Turkic and South Asian world, cold salty yogurt drinks are the cooler of choice. If you think that’s gross, ask your grandma about the icy buttermilk she used to sip on hot summer days. This is pretty much the same thing. In South Asia it’s called lassi (LAH-see) and can be served salty or sweet (even in a mango flavor). Find all three at Ujala Sweets & Bakery (2500 W. Devon Ave.; 773-274-4959) where a mango lassi will set you back $2. Turks call their chilly watered-down sheep yogurt drink ayran (eye-RON) and often chop a little mint into it. Find it at Cousin’s (5203 N. Clark St.; 773-334-4553), for $1.50. Persians and Afghanis call it dogh (pronounced like “dew” in Persian and “doh” in Dari) and frequently let it get a little fizzy. Persian and Afghan dogh can be found at Reza’s (432 W. Ontario St.; 312-664-4500) for $1.50 and Afghan Fine Cuisine (502 W. Main St., Evanston; 847-328-7800) for 95 cents. These salty fermented dairy drinks can take a little getting used to initially (I almost spit out my first sip of it). But once you’re hooked, you’ll find there are few better thirst quenchers in the wide world.
GRANITA
Memories of a cool Italian snack savored in the mid-1980s at an Italian ice cream shop on North Avenue sent us in search of coffee granita, a coarse, frozen hunk of coffee. Genuine granita is a frozen dessert of fruit juice or flavored liquid like coffee, sugar syrup and water. Disdained by commercial cooks because it needs baby-sitting, granita is coarse-textured by design. It’s frozen in a pan, then scraped and chopped several times before serving. Flavors are direct — not masked by egg or cream — unabashed and memorable. Although the North Avenue company was sold, we did find a luscious version, machine-made but close to coarse, at Caffe Italia, 2625 N. Harlem Ave., 773-889-0455. Order caffe granita con pana (coffee granita with whipped cream), and what arrives for $2.50 is a genteel portion of espresso-strength ice, sandwiched between clouds of fluffy calories.
HALO HALO
Living through Chicago’s hot and humid days brings back memories of surviving sweltering days in Asia. A cure for the parched visitor to the Philippines is halo-halo. Halo-halo (translation: mix-mix) is a layered concoction of various ingredients (crushed ice, gooey fruits, nuts, legumes, diced gelatin, sometimes custard, milk or ice cream). This weird-looking snack is totally refreshing and addictive. Push the spoon through the ice first, stir up the ingredients, then VOILA! The halo-halo ($3.50) at Fishpond (4416 N. Clark St., 773-271-1119), includes jackfruit jam, fresh shredded coconut and mung beans topped with custard sauce and a scoop of ice cream. The version ($5.75) from Pampanga’s Filipino Restaurant (6407 N. Caldwell Ave., 773-763-1781) is an eye-grabber. A tiny scoop of purple yam ice cream (made from a starchy vegetable called ubi) sits atop a mound of shaved ice. Push the spoon through the crusty iceberg to rouse goodies from the bottom of the soda-fountain-style glass. The serving of halo-halo at Rambutan (2049 W. Division St., 773-772-2727) is so beautifully layered, we didn’t want to disturb it. But the spoons nose-dived into a not-too-sweet sea of jackfruit, shredded coconut flesh, mung beans, tapioca balls and capped with vanilla ice cream ($6.50).
