Humans have weird superstitions about food, as any rhinoceros without his horn can tell you. However, ration and practical skepticism notwithstanding, please know that the Chicago Beef at Bulldog kills hangovers dead. Dead! No one knows why. Is it the steamy beef? The hot giardinera, all fire, vegetable, vinegar, and pop? Is it the golden-griddled bun? Is the magical power therein doubled by the addition of chili-cheese fries? Who knows? The mysteries here are impermeable to the forces of logic. Please know that the burgers are also good here, crisp and well seared, and the hot dogs are textbook renditions.