I don't remember my first visit to the Esquire. I suspect I'm not alone, but my reasons probably differ. See, I was less than a year old at the time, and I likely wasn't into doing much more than staring out the window at the buses or blinking up at the moving Hamm's sign.\n\nLuckily for me, I have been to Esquire many more times since. You could say I grew up throwing peanut shells on the floor and stomping on them. (For the record, I still throw the shells on the floor, but I no longer do the accompanying dance--that stopped being cute around age eight.) Before my family moved away from Champaign, this was the number one place we would take out of town relatives visiting. Even as objectively yummier, cooler places opened up around town, Aunt So-and-so and Uncle Whatshisface would always demand to be taken back to Esquire, and we were always happy to oblige. It's a comfortable, unpretentious bar, and that's what you needs sometimes.\n\nIt's all about the ambiance, really. There are better burgers in town, but at Esquire it's the whole package that keeps me coming back. That and those peanuts. For real.
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