Author: J.R. McMillan (page 10 of 12)

Though best known as a freelance writer covering the culinary and cultural scenes, J.R. McMillan has also worked as a script consultant, featured columnist, photographer, publicist, and public radio producer.

From local beloved to nationally renowned brands, he applies his background in film and television to create compelling and persuasive narratives. His immersive research and in-depth interviews reveal the hidden story, and his insights and expertise are featured in multiple mainstream and industry publications reaching a wide range of audiences.

He is an alumnus of the W. Page Pitt School of Journalism and Mass Communications at Marshall University and lives in Columbus, Ohio.

March 15, 2017

Tradish

Originally published in the Spring 2017 issue of Stock & Barrel

Pizza is probably our most prolific and pervasive ethnic fare. But “pizza pie” hasn’t always been as American as apple pie. It was originally dismissed as immigrant food — and before the 1950s, Columbus was one of the only cities between New York and Chicago you could even find it.

As waves of immigrants from Italy settled along the East Coast and in close enclaves across the country, they weren’t always welcome. In Columbus, one of those neighborhoods was Flytown, so nicknamed because the new homes there seemed to “fly up overnight”. A mostly Irish community, by the early 20th century, immigrants from Italy and elsewhere in Europe also called it home. African Americans fleeing the south settled there as well.

That’s where Columbus pizza history had its undisputed origin, at the oldest Italian restaurant in town, TAT Ristorante Di Famiglia — named as a nod to the new Transcontinental Air Transport, which also opened for business in 1929. Promising travel from New York to Los Angeles in 48 hours through a network of planes and trains, Columbus was the starting point for all flights west. First served off the menu, then officially added in 1934, TAT served pizza in the Flytown neighborhood — ultimately relocating to 1210 S James Road in 1980, where it is still owned by the Corrova family.

But those early pizzas bore little resemblance to the modern pizza most know, more like a focaccia that sometimes lacked cheese during the depression or due to war rationing. Flytown suffered during those decades, eventually declared blighted by the Columbus Redevelopment Authority and leveled just as the city’s pizza scene was starting to emerge.

That’s also when bragging rights for the oldest pizza place in Columbus become a bit more murky, and where old menus and old memories don’t always agree.

By the late 1940s, returning GIs in Italy weary of rations had their first taste of “pizza” and were looking for it in the Italian neighborhoods and restaurants many once shunned. That’s also about the time Jim and Dan Massucci and Romeo Siri started serving what most of us would recognize as pizza at their restaurant in Grandview. The Massucci brothers opened Massey’s Pizza in late 1949 at 4464 E Main Street — where it remains today after more than a few renovations and updates.

“It’s been added on several times, but it’s still the original building,” explained Dave Pollone, who along with his brother Jed acquired Massey’s Pizza in 2000. “Jim and Dan Massey started it, but Guido Casa bought them out in 1962. My grandmother was Guido’s aunt, so we’re cousins.”

“Our dad used to get us pizza from Romeo (Siri), but it didn’t have cheese under the pepperoni. It was just dough, sauce, and pepperoni with a little parmesan sprinkled on top,” he recalled. “The first time I had pizza with cheese under it was from Johnny Remeli, when he used to make pizza in the back of a place called the Musical Bar on Parsons Avenue.”

Though the Massucci brothers are known as the founders of Massey’s, the Pollone brothers have stayed true to Guido Casa by refusing to follow the industry trend toward faster-cooking, conveyor ovens.

“You can’t make a pizza in a conveyor oven, it just doesn’t cook the bottom right. That’s why all of these old pizza places still use deck ovens,” Pollone explained. “The oven in Whitehall is the original rotating-deck oven from 1949. It’s like a Ferris wheel in there.”

Though Massey’s remains ubiquitous in Central Ohio, they weren’t the only ones pushing modern pizza into the mainstream. The Angeletti family still owns Ange’s Pizza, opened in late 1951 before moving to their oldest location at 139 S Yearling Road early the following year. Tommy’s Pizza still has two locations on Lane Avenue opened in the 1960s (and one in Dublin), but Iacono’s original place near E 5th Avenue and Cassidy Avenue opened in 1952. (In fact, Tommy’s only added “pizza” to the name of the restaurant after demand for the novel dish outpaced the rest of the menu.)

Gatto’s Pizza at 2928 N High Street was Clintonville’s first, also opened in 1952 by brothers Jim and Joe Gatto. Johnny’s Pizza on Parsons Avenue opened in 1953. Rubino’s brought pizza to Bexley in 1954, and likewise endures with a faithful following at 2643 E Main Street. And the original Josie’s in Franklinton at 952 W Broad Street has been around since 1959, with extended family operating the Hilltop location in Westgate. Johnny Remeli wasn’t the only Columbus pizza pioneer making pies in back. A young Jim Grote famously started selling pizza out of the storeroom of the hardware store across the street from 1000 Thurman Avenue where the original Donatos still stands.

“Every Friday night, my dad brought a pizza home for dinner,” recalled Donice Foraker, who recently retired as director of special projects and “on-site historian” for Donatos after more than five decades. He scarcely recalls a time when Columbus wasn’t a pizza town.

“My older brother worked for Donatos too. He started doing deliveries while I was still washing pans,” he explained. “That was 1966 and we were kids, but by 1978, I was running the store. After a couple of years, Grote asked me to come work with him — to tell him what was right and what needed to change as the company grew.”

“All of the pizza places on the south end had a good reputation,” Foraker noted. “We were competitors, but we all knew and respected each other. For those of us who are still around, it’s still that way.”

It’s a shame we don’t celebrate legacy and longevity the way we do new and shiny. The 1950s was a transformational decade — from fenders to fashion, hairstyles to hemlines. Americans are historically fickle, and Columbus is no exception. But these early ethnic eateries endured, doing their part to spread pizza’s popularity throughout the Midwest, long after the Lustrons lost their luster.

Though each neighborhood could claim which pizza place is the oldest in their particular part of town, deciding which is the oldest in Columbus isn’t as easy as it seems. There are competing claims, but also some shared credit to go around. All of these places survived despite economic declines that saw competitors and imitators come and go. They also held their ground against big budget, corporate carpetbaggers muscling into their territory. And they fearlessly defended thin crusts and square-cuts from their detractors — because a pointy, triangular slice with a chunk of crust at the end as a bland handle violates the implicit social compact of pizza, with varying slices just right for any age or appetite. But, if “oldest” really means “original”, the answer becomes more certain.

There is only one pizza place in the running that’s still in their original space, run by the original family, using their original recipe: Gatto’s Pizza.

“Vince and Joe Jr. started working here in high school on the weekends. It was a family business,” explained Bill Fulcher, the youngest of the three cousins who carry on Gatto’s pizza heritage. “I started when I was a sophomore, so I’ve been here 45 years.”

Fulcher went on to Ohio State and still works for the Ohio Attorney General’s Office, but also wanted to keep the family tradition alive.

“Jimmy Corrova is actually our cousin, so we know TAT is really the oldest pizza place in town,” he said humbly. “But I think we have remained the same the longest.”

Point of fact, Gatto’s is essentially unchanged after all of these years. A picture from the mid-1950s hangs on the wall that is nearly indistinguishable from the present. (You’d need Doc Brown and a DeLorean to tell the difference.)

“We have families who have been coming here for decades, or people who went to OSU who come back to Columbus and say the place is just like they remember it,” Fulcher explained — noting the sauce, sausage, and meatballs haven’t changed either. “They’re all my grandfather’s and my uncle’s recipes. That’s why our customers always come back to us. It’s because we really haven’t changed anything in 65 years.”

This honor won’t sit well with everyone, and that’s fine. Nor should it discourage fellow members of this exclusive, half-century fraternity from staying true to their roots, while still looking forward. This wasn’t a dough town throw-down or neighborhood grudge match. It’s hopefully part of that overdue celebration of legacy and longevity that Columbus often lacks and we all tend to overlook. My challenge to each of you is to discover for yourselves why all of these pizza places are unique. Central Ohio is rich in pizza history, and each of us shares a slice of it with everyone else.

The best pizza is still one that brings people together, stirs a memory or creates new ones, that fills more than your stomach, and last long after the box is empty. ▩

January 1, 2017

Six-Word Memoirs

Originally published in the January 2017 issue of (614) Magazine

Sharing stories around a campfire is among our most enduring traditions. From the primitive survival tips of our earliest ancestors to complex cautionary tales of love and loss, language remains the common currency of the human experience. But now we have a bigger campfire, spreading light and heat to everyone within reach of a keyboard or constantly connected device we carry in our pockets. That’s where Larry Smith is in his element, helping strangers rediscover the ancient art of storytelling by distilling it down to six simple words.

The Six-Word Memoir project started as a stopgap solution for SMITH Magazine, an online rendezvous for writers that launched just as social media was redefining the rules for every internet interaction. Of course, it’s hard to foresee the future from ground level. But Smith somehow did, even as corporations and his contemporaries in what we call “old media” struggled to see over the obvious horizon. Never minding the naysayers, Six-Word Memoirs tapped into something deft, yet diminutive. From boardrooms to classrooms, suicide prevention to speed dating, the platform defied critics by effectively elevating kitsch to cause almost overnight.

After a decade of didactic self-disclosure, it would be easy to descend into diatribes about Marshall McLuhan, the medium is the message, and other pointy-headed punditry. Though there is merit in analyzing the mental mechanisms behind the movement, it was never intended as an indulgent, academic exercise. Nor are there the fading flames or faint flickers of a dying fire. The effort keeps evolving to reach unlikely audiences and amateur auteurs whose unspoken autobiographies offer an intimate perspective that pierces the darkness with a few soulful syllables.

Having settled in Columbus after several stints in hipper haunts, Larry Smith kicked back for coffee to reflect on ten years of Six Words — an idea that keeps reinventing itself.

“I’M SURE YOU’VE ANSWERED THIS BEFORE.”

You’re essentially a superhero of short-form storytelling. Yet some are still unfamiliar with the six-word concept. What was the inspiration? Tell me your origin story?

I love origin stories. When I’m introduced, it’s often just “This is Larry Smith of Six-Word Memoirs” and someone might say, “Oh, you’re that six-word guy?” I like superhero better. The origin story is a literary legend, which some of your readers may know. Ernest Hemingway was once challenged to write a six-word novel in a bar bet, where many literary legends begin. As the story goes, Hemingway wrote, “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

In January of 2006, I left a traditional journalism career working mostly in print magazines, but some web — Men’s Journal, ESPN Magazine, Dave Eggar’s Might, POV, Yahoo! Internet Life, which was like the people’s WIRED. I saw the user-generated content explosion coming as kind of the tech culture guy at all of these magazines.

Telling stories is hot, in almost an amusing way. It’s always been hot in film and television. But it’s hot in advertising now, because technology finally caught up with what we’ve always wanted to do. Telling stories, recording music, creating art — our ability to share these stories through Facebook, Twitter, and Six-Word Memoirs has become more easy, and addictive.

So I did something crazy and left a career I really enjoyed and I started SMITHMAG.net on January 6, 2006 on National Smith Day, which is one of those days you get if enough people sign a petition. But it was a good media hook. I launched a user-generated content magazine where anyone could tell a story. But Six-Word Memoirs wasn’t part of it.

“YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING US?”

Online magazines were a tough sell back then, especially without some sort of parallel print product. How did your early partnership with Twitter propel Six-Word Memoirs into the popular culture?

Toward the end of the first year, people loved it — but it wasn’t a business. It wasn’t generating enough traffic. “Threw spaghetti at wall; some stuck.” is one of my favorite six-word memoirs, and that’s what I did. I remembered the Hemingway legend and thought, “What if we gave it a personal twist?”

So we Googled “six-word memoir” and nothing came up.

That was it — we called it “Six-Word Memoirs”. It was going to be a month-long contest and the best six-word story would win an iPod, which was a good prize back in 2006. Right before we launched, I called up these guys I’d met at a tech conference with a side project called Twitter. This was when you could call Twitter and Jack Dorsey would answer the phone. We’d talked about doing a project with SMITH MAG and they thought it was great. So anyone could enter a story about any part of their lives, their whole life, an epitaph, how you’re feeling today, whatever. But if you wanted to win the iPod, you had to sign up for this funny little thing called Twitter. We crowd-sourced the decision to some interns and friends and the winner was, “Barrister, barista— what’s the diff, Mom?” from a Silicon Valley engineer named Abigail Moorhouse. The response was overwhelming. We were receiving tens of thousands of six-word memoirs — which at the time all came to my email box. Obviously now we curate it and built the site around it.

“SIX WORDS AREN’T REALLY SO SIMPLE.”

Between the ease of the app and the confines of the format, there’s a surprising amount of intimacy on the site, the kind that maybe gets lost or overlooked in social media platforms without that six-word limit. How is this a fundamentally different experience?

It can get very deep, even though it’s short. I call it ADDeep.

We have power users on the site who have posted ten even twenty thousand six-word memoirs. They post eight to ten times a day almost like a Facebook status. Some are silly, but some are profound.

We have lots of six-word memoirs about the most emotional times in people’s lives — the birth of a child or a battle with cancer. If you go to the site as a major event is unfolding — like a mass shooting, a plane lands on the Hudson, or the death of someone like John Glenn — people share their thoughts and reflections. And because we aren’t as big as a Twitter or Facebook, people really have a sense that in our smaller community they are being heard.

When Bowie died? Whoa. Our users were able to become part of that narrative. The constraint fuels creativity.

“SOME COUPLES SHARE EVERYTHING. SOME DON’T.”

My wife and I met in journalism school, which means she’s either the first person to read something I’m writing—or the last. What’s it like having two writers under the same roof? How did your Six-Word experience influence your wife’s memoir?

My wife, Piper Kerman, wrote the memoir Orange is the New Black based on her own experience serving 13 months in federal prison for a crime she committed a long time ago. So, we’re both in the storytelling business. She teaches writing in two state prisons outside of Columbus, Marion and Marysville.

She is a reluctant memoirist, and a more quiet and introverted person than I am. I’m much more unfiltered than she is, which isn’t a criticism. It’s just a style and approach. Many people have a memoir inside them, but she was never like, “I want to write a book about my life.”

Everyone has an interesting story if you poke around, but when she got out of prison, people were curious. And when she went into prison, there were really no books for women. They were all about the experiences of men. People were hungry to hear about it and she felt a deep obligation to tell not just her story, but the stories of the other women as well — who they are, where they came from, and what happens to them when they get out.

I encouraged her to write it, and knew she was a great writer from living with her all those years. We have a friend who used to joke long before Piper went to prison and wrote the book that she was the better writer in the house because she would edit things I wrote and she was so good. But after getting her letters while she was in prison, it was undeniable. She’s absolutely the better writer.

“IS STORYTELLING A CALLING, OR A CURSE?”

Columbus is known a test market for all sorts of products, and we’re proud of it. How did Columbus come to be the Six in the City prototype— a city of storytellers?

What I learned from Six-Word Memoirs is that I went from journalist, which I liked a lot, to someone who builds community through storytelling, which I love.

People sometimes ask if I ever get bored with Six Words. But it’s really just a tool to get people to open up about themselves. If I’m working with a Mosaic class, or Columbus School for Girls, or Independents’ Day with pieces of paper and a clothesline barking for Sixes, and that’s never boring.

Giving people agency over their lives, to be the protagonist in their own stories is empowering. I once had a teenage girl get up on stage at the Harmony Project and say, “Yes, I’m pregnant, but I’m graduating.” And they clapped. She was owning her story.

Six in the City tells the story of an entire community. I had initial meetings in New York, talked to folks with the city, and I’d get a call back three months later.

I didn’t intend to launch Six in the City in Columbus. But when I got here and looked around, and started to understand the community vibe, everyone I talked to in Columbus said yes.

Do you want to have a meeting? “Yes.” Do you want to move forward? “Yes.” Columbus is a “Yes” city. If you have an idea, and you’re willing to work hard, Columbus will help you make it happen — the city, the people, the community, everyone.

We came here two times before we decided to move here. There was an event at the Jewish Community Center, and we went out to dinner afterwards. We didn’t have any family ties or friends here. We came back one more time and my wife and I decided right then, “Let’s do this. Let’s get a house”. I was tired of that Brooklyn apartment anyway. It wasn’t a difficult decision. Now, I’m an ambassador for Columbus. ▩

December 15, 2016

Something’s Brewing in Westgate

Originally published in the Winter 2016 issue of Stock & Barrel

The most exclusive watering hole on the west side isn’t a trendy bar or cocktail lounge filled with fake swag and fake laughs. There’s no Yelp review or neon sign. It doesn’t even have a name. That’s because it’s an invitation-only, semi-regular soirée of Westgate’s homebrewers — folks whose passion for potent potables created an ad hoc excuse to raise a pint with friends in a neighborhood rich in community, but short on gathering places.

“A few Christmases ago, my wife gave me a homebrewing kit. I enjoy new beers and knew people who brewed their own, so figured I’d try it and see what happened,” noted Nick Bates, one of the group’s initial organizers. “Then I met other people in the neighborhood who were also homebrewing and experimenting in their kitchens.”

What began as a one-time event has become a rotating ritual featuring a handful of bona fide microbrews. Brewers bring enough of their latest competitive concoctions to share, and everyone judges the entries in a blind taste test. These are just “flights” of beer, not enough for a sloppy lush — but definitely enough to provide social lubricant.

There’s even a trophy, the “Westgate Wort Award”. No one gets to keep it though. It rotates around too from winner to winner, kind of like the Stanley Cup.

“Wort is basically unfermented beer. All beer starts as water, then you add your hops and malts,” Bates explained. “That sweet, initial product you have, in the brewing world, is called wort.” But beer wasn’t what drew Bates and his wife to the neighborhood from Harrison West.

“We were debating about continuing to rent versus buying a home, and saw Westgate as an affordable place to live,” he said. “Though we didn’t have any kids at the time, we were planning to start growing a family. There’s a culture here that just fit.”

Robyn Mathews-Danforth echoed the sentiment. She and husband Andy Danforth were the hosts for the evening’s competition– and that new trophy was also his handiwork.

“Anything that promotes Westgate, that brings people into the community, is part of why we’re here,” she explained. Originally from Arizona, the unseasonable chill in autumn air didn’t seem to dull her spirits. “I’m still in Ohio because of this neighborhood.”

“I’m a pastry chef, so I came to brewing from a culinary background, where I’m used to looking scientifically at ingredients,” she noted. Her first foray into fermentation also started with a homebrewing kit from her spouse. “Not having been a serious beer drinker before, I really wanted to see what happens when you add cranberries, what happens when you add blueberries.”

Westgate’s homebrewing community is more than just one night of bottles and ballots, with a spread that could hold its own against the best tailgate or cocktail party. “We actually started a Facebook group so we could share our experiences — when something goes well, and when something goes wrong,” she said. “I wanted a resource group for ingredients and where to find them, to ask, ‘Does anyone have a lagering system?’” Homebrewing is chemistry you can drink.

A lagering system isn’t quite as common a request as asking a neighbor to borrow a cup of sugar or a snow blower. But there’s more than beer brewing in Westgate. It’s a different kind of community, one that only evolves when folks are forced to look inward because their surroundings fall short. A common complaint of suburban sprawl is that it has everything except community. Sure, you get your pick of grocery stores, fast food, and drycleaners. But homogenized housing tends to discourage neighbors from ever becoming more than strangers on the same street, quietly complaining about one another’s lawns.

That’s why a growing number of boomers and busters are following the millennial lead by abandoning the suburbs in favor of emerging, inner city neighborhoods written off until just recently. Victorian Village and German Village were once desolate and dilapidated too. But now Italian Village and Merion Village hope to follow in their footsteps. Olde Towne East has been a work-in-progress for decades, with immaculate restorations surrounded by sketchy side streets. It’s a bit like Detroit — investing or living there is still a block-by-block proposition. But being minutes from downtown, bumpered by historic homes and an enormous park, is a tempting offer for anyone whose aversion to the suburbs has led them to look for something more authentic than big boxes and busybodies.

But these better-known neighborhoods aren’t the only destination for those handy with a hammer looking for something real. Westgate is what was once called a “streetcar suburb” back when mass transit held mass appeal. Just four miles down Broad Street on the other side of Franklinton is an unexpected enclave of homes that could easily pass for parts of Grandview or Clintonville. That’s no accident either.

On the grounds of what used to be a Confederate prisoner of war camp, then sold off in the interim to an ambitious colony of Quakers after the Civil War, are streets and houses built by some of the same urban planners and architects behind two of the city’s more famous, family-friendly communities. Unlike Grandview and Clintonville, years of struggle in the surrounding area and an absence of economic development left Westgate residents lacking a lot of the robust retail and name recognition their sister settlements offered.

But instead of selling out, Westgate residents dug in. No curated grocery stores or food co-ops? They started their own farmers market. Stagnant restaurant scene? They created a rotating food truck schedule. Slipping real estate sales? They started an annual Home & Garden Tour. Left out of the Columbus festival craze? They organized Summer Jam, a free day-long arts event featuring local music, food, and crafts. Seriously, just ask anyone who lives here. Where else in Columbus can young couples with kids buy a Craftsman-era home for a bargain, in a community that is proudly working class, diverse, and creative — all built around 50 acres of parks and playgrounds, only minutes from downtown? Westgate is essentially Sesame Street with backyards instead of brownstones.

That’s what brought Seth VanHorn back to the capital city after a decade of moves through some of the country’s more notable neighborhoods. “I was drawn back to Columbus by some of the cool things going on here, the low cost of living, and neighborhoods like this,” VanHorn noted. “I liked Austin’s vibrant downtown scene, it’s a college town — you know ‘Keep Austin Weird’. But in the ten years that I was gone, Columbus has really grown up from a small Midwestern town to a city with so much more to offer.”

“I looked at several neighborhoods near the core of downtown — Weinland Park, Olde Towne East, Merion Village — but Westgate won out,” he explained. “I’ve done some homebrewing myself and am really impressed with the quality of the beer, and the welcoming vibe of the event and the people who live here.”

That close-knit community won over Eric VanOrder, who returned to the west side after a stint in the Navy. “There’s a renewed camaraderie bringing together people who have lived in Westgate for years,” he noted. VanOrder was the winner of the first Westgate Wort Award, but wasn’t competing this evening. Any endeavor dependent on just the right time and temperature doesn’t always turn out as planned. “I ended up brewing a beer only a father could love, so I decided I’d stick to judging this time.”

A little daring didn’t deter John Salvage, a homebrewer with 15 years of experience entering the competition for the first time. “I’ve mostly just brewed for my own enjoyment, and giving beer to friends for Christmas has been a tradition,” Salvage said. “I brewed a ‘butter beer’, which is obviously inspired by Harry Potter. I’m more of a malt fan, but I put in some butterscotch candies and added some lactose for more mouth feel, so it’s smooth going down.

The evening happened to coincide with Land Grant’s second anniversary party. So while most had their fill, after the trophy was awarded and the last of the entries were imbibed, some headed toward downtown for one more round — and surely some inspiration for their next batch of backyard brew. ▩

Writer’s Postscript: Just how inviting is Westgate? After meeting those who call it home while working on this story, we wanted them as our neighbors. We bought a house near the park and have lived there ever since.

December 1, 2016

Forged By Fire

Originally published in the December 2016 issue of (614) Magazine

First, forget everything you know about barbecue.

It’s not because you’re wrong — it’s because barbecue is more than you probably think. It’s not just having the talent and patience to let food cook low and slow. It’s about assembling the right ingredients and giving them just enough time to create something that defies expectations.

That’s exactly what you’ll find at Rooks Tavern, a dining destination with the neighborhood feel necessary to stand out, after years of mindful and meticulous preparation and planning.

“Originally, it was just going to be a typical Texas barbecue joint. We’d open at eleven, and close when we were out of meat,” explained owner John Havens, half of the creative duo behind Rooks Tavern. “That’s such a part of Texas culture, but it’s not like that in Columbus.”

“The original menu design was developed over two years through a combination of investigation and experimentation,” noted owner Aaron Mercier, the other half of Rooks Tavern. “We’re respectful of the ingredients, and the culinary traditions we’re applying. But we’re also doing something unexpected.”

“Barbecue can be so much more than ribs, pulled pork, and brisket — all of ours are excellent by the way,” Havens quipped. “But, every culture in the world has a barbecue tradition.”

The two met in high school, and despite a few moves along the way, both settled back in Columbus. Havens’ formal background in portfolio management, and Mercier’s in medieval literature, aren’t the common curriculum vitae for two guys elbowing their way into the restaurant racket. But their authentic Texas roots and keen kitchen chops are actually enhanced by the sense of trends and love of language that set Rooks Tavern and its evolving menu apart.

“One of our best-selling dishes is our beets. We take beets and par-cook them, then throw them in the coals of the fire,” Havens confessed. “After a while we pull them, peel them, and serve them over sheared chevre and a beet green puree — then we take some of those ashes that we keep and mix it with the salt. It’s one of the best things on the menu, and it’s totally vegetarian.”

“I tried it once and it was a smash hit,” Mercier noted. “It’s a process of research, citation and adaptation.” (It turns out that Copenhagen beet barbecue was actually inspired by a Danish dish Mercier found and refined into something entirely original.)

You’ll find more than a few surprises on the menu, as well as daily and seasonal specials — pulled pecan-smoked ruby trout, low country succotash, and a Western-inspired French stew they describe as a “Cowboy Cassoulet”. Weekends get weird with smoky banana-pecan French toast with Mexican chocolate, rib-meat poutine with mole gravy, and the “Austin Hangover” featuring up to a full pound of pulled pork or brisket, slow-cooked for 18-hours in one of Rooks’ two custom smokers — affectionately named “Pancho” and “Lefty”.

Rooks Tavern chooses local ingredients whenever available and appropriate for the menu, with more than a dozen farmers, bakers, and makers stocking their kitchen.

“Barbecue gets maligned as simple comfort food and very rarely gets elevated to fine cuisine, which it absolutely should be. It takes so much more work and knowledge and art,” Havens said. “We have no gas firing our smokers or our grill. It’s all based on how long can you hold your hand over it and how hot is it. So our cooks are constantly adapting. There are so many more variables.”

Another challenge in opening any restaurant is breaking through with customers, critics, and fellow culinary professionals in a city that takes its restaurant scene very seriously.

“I learned a lot about how to open restaurants the right way — and the inevitable chaos even when you’re doing it the right way,” Mercier explained, whose tenure at The Guild House was a proving ground for the process of opening their own restaurant.

Beneath their beards and boyish charm, both hide the résumés of restaurateurs forged by fire. Instead of tutoring for extra cash while finishing his dissertation, Mercier was working at Austin’s famous Blue Ox. Havens was trudging through stock trades by day, but also seasoning his partner with pictures of food trucks by email, hoping to find the right nudge.

“We were unusually prepared for a couple of amateurs,” Mercier chided. “We were ready to be unready.”

Eventually, the idea settled in during a summer stint with family and friends in the Adirondacks. Sitting out on the dock after supper, taking in the still of the lake and a generous share of bourbon, the two decided the time to fail was while they were still young enough to recover. After a couple more years of slow, steady heat, Rooks Tavern was finally ready to serve.

“Restaurateurs want other restaurateurs to succeed. It’s incredibly supportive here,” Mercier revealed. “Young chefs in particular want to raise the bar in this city, responding to national trends but applying Midwest values to them, to make them accessible.”

When best friends go into business, it can easily become a recipe for disaster. But these two wiseacres seem to have it down. Even the most incidental interaction reveals Havens is the affable Ben Affleck matched by Mercier as the more ruminating Matt Damon. Yet both are free from the ego that easily comes from early success.

When pushed for the biggest disagreement they’ve had in opening the restaurant —who won, and who was right — the answer was unequivocal.

“The menu…” Mercier replied without hesitation, about two seconds before Havens cut him off with a swift, “I won.”

Who was right is still disputed. Mercier contends the language in the original menu was too heavy-handed. Havens concedes it could use some tinkering.

Much like their barbecue, the truth is probably in the middle — never overcooked, nor underdone — but always adapting and improving. ▩

December 1, 2016

Satire, Super-Sized

Originally published in the December 2016 issue of (614) Magazine

In case you missed it, Columbus just became home to the world’s most subversive sandwich.

If Morgan Spurlock hangs up his handlebar mustache tomorrow, he’ll forever be famous as the guy whose one-month stunt eating nothing but McDonald’s fare changed the way Americans think about fast food — or, maybe not. By now, the gag is out of the bag. But the last laugh may still be on us. Holy Chicken, his latest venture, launched its first location as a four-day pop-up amid apparently oblivious fanfare. Unlike rival restaurants, it advertised antibiotic-free, hormone-free, cage-free fowl with unprecedented honesty.

“We’re going to bring total transparency to a lying industry,” said Spurlock, between a call-and-response chorus of patrons packed before his poultry pulpit. “HOLY CHICKEN,” he chanted—and his faithful flock followed.

If Andy Kaufman had opened a fast food franchise, it would be difficult to distinguish it from Holy Chicken. As far as the simple menu went, it seems like a genuine attempt to offer a better bird for a premium price. But, you’re also being served some super-sized sarcasm on an artisan bun, with a side of social satire.

The signs were everywhere.

No, really — the signs were all over the joint.

From on-the-nose aphorisms about the persuasive psychology of “healthy and relaxed” green and “enthusiastic and energetic” orange to a snarky “SEE YOU SOON” on the exit with the disclaimer, “Most doctors and nutritionists would recommend that you eat Holy Chicken only once or twice a month to maintain a balanced diet. But that probably won’t stop you, will it?”

“Americans make bad choices all the time,” said the straight-faced Spurlock, noting the ominous warnings in friendly fonts occupying the walls. Spurlock’s old-fashioned ribbon-cutting ceremony included representatives from Experience Columbus and the Chamber of Commerce, as well as a proclamation from the State of Ohio — presented against a backdrop of folksy, farm-to-table, illustrated insights titled “Know Your Chicken,” “Know Your Farmer,” and “Know Your Vertically Integrated Corporate Supply Chain.”

I have to admit, the sandwich was pretty tasty — despite the dire and discouraging décor. I went for the “Grilled Crispy Chicken Sandwich” topped with maple mustard, pickles, and homemade slaw. The side of “Crunchy Greens” was actually batter-dipped green beans. Both were fried.

“We don’t use the F-word,” Spurlock quietly confessed. “People like ‘crispy’ and ‘crunchy’ food.”

That’s not much consolation if you worry about what you eat. Americans rarely read the fine print, and apparently they aren’t fans of larger-than-life print either. The chicken sandwich, their only entrée, weighed in at 860 calories. Add those fried green beans at 190 calories, and your total matched that of a Big Mac and large fries from Spurlock’s former nemesis.

If that realization wasn’t enough to offset your appetite, the annotated, meticulously staged mural of the same sandwich should have. Photoshop trickery is always a given — but using KY in the coleslaw to create a more marketable image could leave you feeling queasy.

The genius: Spurlock wasn’t hiding any of this, making the distinction between sincerity and chicanery difficult to tell, hard to sell, and harder to swallow. Though he described the use of real wood surfaces to “give you thoughts of nature, trees, cute little farms with barns, and other healthy stuff” — a discrete lean over the counter into the kitchen revealed an employee literally using a brush and stencil to paint charcoal stripes on the grilled chicken.

Holy Chicken claimed its food was “too good to be true.” Whether the hundreds who lined up were willingly duped, blissfully ignorant, or just playing along was an even-money bet. The hype was real, even if some weren’t sure the restaurant was. Perhaps that was the point, along with gathering a lot of footage for some future film or television endeavor. Americans care less about antibiotics, hormones, and cages than they do feeling good about themselves.

They want guilt-free fast food — disclosures be damned.

But in the days that followed, social media cried foul and the local press was unimpressed. Spurlock’s epic editorial on deceptive practices had some screaming the sky was falling without considering the moral of the story.

Columbus was invited to be in on the joke, not the butt of it. As America’s test market, we’ve seen our share of half-baked ideas. This was not one of them. There was no subterfuge. Holy Chicken sold sandwiches, not snake oil. Better yet, they sold them at a price we should expect to pay for better chicken and better wages. That chicken was all that was advertised—free from the ambiguous labels we presume are bad, but have lots of legal leeway. And those employees were paid $15 an hour, far better than Spurlock himself made during his last gig in Columbus.

The premiere episode of his groundbreaking television series, 30 Days, followed the filmmaker through the struggles of minimum wage employment. It’s no coincidence he returned here to unveil his latest project, even if some were swept up in the same cognitive dissonance behind the foods we choose everyday. Of all of the premium modifiers used to describe his chicken, “healthy” was never one of them. Presuming the rest somehow made it so was exactly the linguistic leap the fast food industry expects us to make, and any backlash instead of hilarity that ensues proved it.

Did Holy Chicken disclose in unapologetic fashion exactly what they were serving? Were you initially elated that a healthier restaurant was finally meeting customer demands, only to have your hopes dashed again? Were the sandwiches they served likely no better than those sold by nearly every fellow fast food chain? Yes? Then shut the cluck up.

Spurlock didn’t reduce cultural commentary to a crappy carnival ride. He elevated it to an innovative, interactive experience. Holy Chicken wasn’t a hoax — it was a catered performance art exhibition. Luckily, most folks were all too honored to eat it up. ▩

Super Size Me 2: Holy Chicken! is now available to stream on YouTube, Amazon Prime, and iTunes.

August 1, 2016

Still Innovating

Originally published in the August 2016 issue of (614) Magazine

When Ryan Lang and Brady Konya founded Middle West Spirits, the artisan distillery industry was scarce and the sky was the limit.

It still is, but now that sky is a lot closer than it used to be.

Unable to secure suitable space elsewhere, and committed to the neighborhood that supported them from novelty to name brand, Middle West Spirits grew up — with an innovative renovation that turned the Short North warehouse they’ve called home into a five-story cathedral of polished copper and stainless steel.

Amid the chaos of construction, I sat down with Lang and Konya to discuss their journey, their future, and the creative curiosity and “maker” philosophy that inspire the company culture.

How is Middle West Spirits more than just a distillery?

Ryan: “It’s more than just a steel box, which is what a lot of distillers are or become. When you walk through on a tour, it’s more than that. It’s a brand experience. I’ll bet you I’ve been in a hundred facilities — and without fail, most of them are rudimentary at best. Middle West Spirits is a brand company first.”

Brady: “I can’t imagine building the front end of our distilling operation in any neighborhood other than the Short North. We’ve always wanted to have an urban distillery, to be part of the heart of the city. From convention goers to travel writers covering the drink scene, there has been a lot of support from the city to include us in the narrative of Columbus.”

Was expansion an operational necessity, a marketing opportunity, or a bit of both?

Brady: “When we talk about capacity, we’ve really gone down two paths with our business model. One is our house of brands: OYO and any other spirit brands we may produce in the future, or other categories outside of vodka and whiskey. But then there’s this whole partner production side of the business.”

Ryan: “We decided to control our destiny by controlling our own costs. We don’t want to be beholden to anyone for product or pricing. We’re a craft-for-craft contract distiller, and there’s legitimacy for what we do. There is credibility in that, when people trust us to make their product for them. But at the end of the day, that becomes an engine to run our own brand. It creates a halo effect around the entire company.”

How much intuition and insight goes into an undertaking like this?

Ryan: “I don’t think we anticipated how quickly our business would grow. We were among only 50 or 60 so craft distilleries in the United States. And then there was a shortage in dark spirits from the larger suppliers, which opened the door for craft distilleries. You see that a lot in our world; they start with the clear spirits — the vodkas and gins. That allows for immediate cash flow. But they put as much as they can back into dark spirits, but often it’s still not enough.”

Brady: “We needed to grow up a little when it came to engaging with the city’s influencers and private sector development people. Every conversation we got a little better, a little braver, a little more thoughtful. It became clear to us after the course of about a year and a half that if we waited any longer it would hurt our business. A distillery of this scale is an engineering project with a building around it. You can’t just move it to another building.”

Could Middle West Spirits have continued to survive at its previous scale?

Brady: “One element that cemented our decision to go big was the regulatory nature of our business at the time. The markups here were very high and the assumption of liquor revenue by JobsOhio was really focused on what they considered mid-size companies, and there seemed to be a resistance to partner with the distilling community because we were an unknown quantity. We were a revenue center and a cost — but because of our size at the time, we were irrelevant. We were a rounding error.”

Ryan: “You have two real paths you can go down as a distillery. It’s not like the brewing industry where you buy a fermenter, and another fermenter, and another fermenter. Because when you make a gallon of beer in production, that equates to 90 percent finished beer. In our world, you end up with eight percent. Distilleries have a model where if you want to do anything of substantial volume, you either have to partner with someone who has the infrastructure, or make the decision to build your own.”

How tight did your previous space get before your knew you needed to expand?

Ryan: “We already had the opportunity to take over the back space in 2011. We did a little bit of a build-out and moved our equipment over, but in three months we filled the space. We actually had to create walkways to get to the office and the bathroom. It got to the point where it was starting to compromise production. If we wanted to make vodka, or wanted to make whiskey, we had to move so much. We knew there was no way for us to take our products nationally.”

Brady: “There were moments when we would bring 30 guests in for a tasting and we’d have to spend the whole day forking all of the materials out onto the curb in the parking lot so there was enough room for people to sit down. There was one time in 2013 when it was snowing and 20 degrees outside, and we had to move most of our production materials to have enough room to walk a tour through. We were probably spending 20 percent of our time just moving things around. It was awful.”

How quickly has the craft distillery industry grown nationwide?

Brady: “Two or three years ago, there were hundreds of small brands, and a few large brands who were sourcing the industrial suppliers for all of their dark spirits, and some clear spirits. In one year alone, from 2014 to 2015, the number of new craft distilleries exceeded all previous years combined.”

Ryan: “We were the second craft distillery in the state to be licensed. There was another in Cincinnati. Now there are more than 40 in Ohio. When we first started, we went to what is considered an alumni reunion for our world, the American Distilling Institute. We’d basically get together to see our friends there, just 50 of us sitting around talking. There are now thousands who go to the ADI every year, and we rarely see someone we know.”

What is the long-term market potential for craft distilleries?

Ryan: “The distilling industry is still in its infancy. But there is a fever pitch of growth. When it comes to craft beer, you can turn a product in 20 days. The craft distilling industry has a huge headwind now because the craft brewing industry is up to 17 percent of the market, and 20 percent of revenue. The craft brewers are competing with the macro brewers.”

Brady: “We’re less than one and a half percent of the market right now. Craft beer, depending on whom you ask, is between 15 and 17 percent. As long as consumers are willing to buy local products that are higher quality, there is huge upside for craft distilleries to capture a big part of that clear spirits market. Even if it’s only five percent, that’s still five times more than what they have right now.”

How unique was the financing of such a large-scale project in an emerging industry?

Brady: “As a result of consolidating our distilling and storage operations in the city, we also received incentives. Columbus fought hard for us to stay here. The mayor’s office helped us through the process. JobsOhio, who had initially shown great resistance to work with our industry, offered us a grant for equipment. All of those things came together to help us hire more people and invest in more product categories.”

Ryan: “This expansion really put the emphasis on how to manage a midcap distillery, and what is actually needed to fuel the operation. Distilling is very capital intensive, with a need for patient capital — as we have to age our product for years. We needed to change our philosophy to make sure the cash well was something we could control better. General sales alone are not enough to really make huge dents in distribution chains.”

What kinds of unforeseen obstacles have you overcome during the expansion?

Ryan: “It’s been a little challenging. The build is behind schedule — eight months. We’ve reengineered the plant at least a dozen times as the scope of the project has expanded. The building itself has changed significantly. The original estimates we had for the steel needed increased four times. That’s the big lesson for me in all of this, that we should have trusted our guts a little more.”

Brady: “In many ways, we’re right back where we were in 2010. We’re like a stage-one startup all over again. We are still in the middle of the storm and we have the bumps and bruises to prove it. Seven or eight years ago, I don’t think we would have envisioned where we are today as the exact outcome — but it’s not that far off from where we wanted to take it. It was never about just being a great local brand. It was always about putting Ohio on the map.” ▩

July 1, 2016

The Night is Young

Originally published in the 2016 FAMILY issue of (614) Magazine

I won’t pretend being a work-from-home dad isn’t daunting. I’ve been there, and what you gain in flexibility and time with your kids is often the envy of 9-to-5 fathers who may get home in time for dinner, soccer practice, or dance class—but rarely much more.

Dads who mostly work nights and weekends may miss a PTO meeting or orchestra concert, but the practical aspects of modern parenting remain culturally biased toward mornings and afternoons—and moms, in particular. But it can’t all be storytimes and jungle gyms. Too many tea parties are enough to drive a dad to drink.

That’s the Day Dad Dilemma, but Night Dads have fewer options still. When the park gets dark and the school day looms large the following morning, are there any adventures for fathers and their children to make Day Dads envious for a change?

As it turns out, there are — and Columbus is full of them.

Here’s an enviable itinerary for dads (or moms) hand-picked to help reconnect and create memories as the day grows long and the night is still young.

South Drive-In | 3050 S High St. | southdrive-in.com
Nothing says nostalgia like a drive-in theater, and the South is the last one in town.
Located between downtown and the south side of 270 is a time machine of epic proportions. Two giant screens set back from the road noted only by a modest marquee. The evening double feature is the best deal in Columbus. Adult prices are about the same as the multiplex, but kids’ admission is just a buck—plus you can bring your own snacks. Lawn chairs and a blanket are great, but lounging behind your windshield still works just fine. Get there early for the perfect spot and stay late for the second show.
Best Bets: It’s easy to fall into the dad-time trap of “just you and me, kid.” And maybe that’s fine for the first film out. But sometimes, being a dad is best experienced as a spectator sport. Next time, bring a few of your kid’s friends along, buy a big bucket of popcorn, sit back and marvel at how connected kids can be when they are all watching the same thing as a shared experience, instead of being individually glued to their iPads. Not all screen time is inherently bad.

Ten Pin Alley | 5499 Constitution Blvd., Hilliard | tenpinalley.com
If your idea of summer fun is indoors and air-conditioned, go knock down some pins.
Ten Pin Alley may be outside the outer-belt in Hilliard, south of Cemetery Road, but the updated lanes and legit food and drink offerings make it a destination worth the drive. Bowling alleys easily get a bad rap for the dingy décor and smoke-stained ceiling of another age. Not here—it’s all kid-friendly and kid-approved. The recently renovated lanes also complement the robust, rotating bar menu and craft beer selection. You might just have to return another time with your grown-up friends.
Best Bets: If you go often, the Summer Bowling Pass is the way to go. For $100, you get an hour of lane time every day for up to six people (including shoe rental), through October 30. As if that wasn’t already a deal, a portion of the proceeds got to Big Brothers Big Sisters of Central Ohio. This is another opportunity to bring your kid’s friends along and revel in the shared social awkwardness of adolescence.

Tinker | 3933 Trueman Blvd., Hilliard | tinkercolumbus.com
For those unfamiliar with the “maker” movement, Tinker is your crash course.
Tinker offers children immersive access to emerging technologies like robotics, coding, and 3D printing. Just inside 270 off Fishinger Road, their class schedules cover toddlers to teens, as well as an occasional Makers’ Night Out where you get to take what you create. Birthday parties, or even hosting your own “maker mentor” event for your kids and their friends, offer options to build fairytale terrariums, design dollhouses, construct marshmallow shooters, or make superhero costumes.
Best Bets: If your kid is already obsessed with Minecraft, take the next step and go for a coding workshop. The sleek simplicity of the Raspberry Pi platform and its hardware are a low-cost entry into custom computing—even for elementary ages. Reluctant to buy your kids their own computer? How about letting them build one instead (for less than $50 in parts) so they can create their own games?

Comic Town | 1249 Morse Rd. | worldofcomictown.com
Be the hero and introduce your kid to a universe of imagination and adventure.
Comic shops all need to find a niche to survive, and Comic Town has found several. Sure, you’ll find the standard fare of new releases and long boxes of back issues, but the comics market has become a collectors market as well. Action figures for kids and pricier cast statues coveted by adults intermingle with graphic novels and role-playing paraphernalia. Evening hours also host trading card games, like Magic: The Gathering, nearly every night.
Best Bets: Every dad loves a bargain, and the dollar boxes at Comic Town are treasure chests waiting to be discovered. These aren’t just bent-and-ding covers or unpopular overstock. Flip through the stacks to find well-known titles from Marvel and DC to obscure and independent releases. Some aren’t even that old, and include codes inside for digital copies you can download. You can even buy the following issue through the app to see what happens next. Added bonus for paper comics, they never need charging.

Vertical Adventures | 6513 Kingsmill Ct. | verticaladventuresohio.com
Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise: we all know that DAD + DANGER FUN.
Their new facility just north of The Continent is bright and inviting for climbers of all ages and abilities. Though safe and supervised by capable staff, it’s not without the sensation of danger kids crave. Hands-on dads who want to try it on for size first should consider the Ropes 101 class. You’ll learn the basics and how to “belay” (hold and handle the safety rope) for your child. Plus, the class includes a two-week pass to try everything in the gym and scout out the best courses and climbing walls for your kids.
Best Bets: The Summer Climber’s Club runs Monday and Wednesday evenings for two hours of small group climbing, knot-tying, and practical problem solving that work the mind and body. Bring their friends or make some new ones. Need a little more support? Vertical Adventures also offers a Climber’s Club for kids with autism on Tuesday nights to build confidence and social skills while learning rope techniques and bouldering basics. Both classes are just $15.

Glass Axis | 610 West Town St. |glassaxis.org
Working on your cool dad cred? How about teaching your kid how fun it is to play with fire?
What started in the late 1980s as a “traveling hot shop” founded by a handful of OSU students and graduates has grown to become a Franklinton fixture for the art of blown, fused, cast, and stained glass. With more than 12,000 square feet of studio and gallery space, the class calendar covers nearly every night of the week and experience level. The organization has its roots in GCAC’s Artists-in-Schools program and the love for teaching still glows like molten glass.
Best Bets: You wouldn’t expect their “First Experience” classes to be so comprehensive and varied, but they are both. With projects and prices ranging from glass beads and blown ornaments to paperweights and neon, there’s the perfect project for you and your kid. Dads are often maligned for lame gift giving, so maybe make that first foray a present for someone special, like a teacher or grandparent?

Natalie’s Coal-Fired Pizza | 5601 N High St., Worthington nataliescoalfiredpizza.com
Who says you can’t take your kid to the bar for a live show?
Well, not exactly “the bar.” Yes, Natalie’s does have a credible collection of craft beers and cocktails. But your kid is always welcome for eats and a show, so long as they sit at a table instead of by the taps. Though perhaps not a school night outing, their musical lineup is as eclectic as the toppings on their pizzas. The clean-burning, coal-fired oven creates a crisp crust and bubbly cheese, paired with impressive local and regional acts in an intimate, purpose-built performance space in Worthington.
Best Bets: Digital downloads just can’t compete with the palpable hum of live music. Acts range from blues to bluegrass, simple to soulful. Many shows start at 8 p.m., but if you get there before 7 p.m. you can grab the best table and still sneak in for the happy hour food specials. Highly recommended is the “seasonal pie,” offering the chef’s daily selection of fresh ingredients and locally sourced toppings. Come early, stay late, and let their pizza and performances surprise you.

Spoonful Records | 116 E Long St. | spoonfulrecords.blogspot.com
Go old school and teach your kid what music was like before there were iPods.
This downtown, down-low location is an unpretentious destination for established and aspiring fans of analog audio. Spoonful Records finds just the right mix of collections and conditions to keep the experience approachable and affordable. Reissues and rarities round out the bins of classic and contemporary releases. There’s also a rich range of reasonably priced turntables, which they assemble on-site, that are perfect for your newly pressed audiophile.
Best Bets: Record Store Day can be crushing in any small shop, so try a weeknight when there’s more time to meander, sift through the stacks, and play some free pinball. Don’t judge an album by its cover, either. The best looking album cover could conceal a well-worn LP, and the rough covers sometimes reveal pristine vinyl that’s rarely been played. Take anything you find for a spin before you buy. ▩

July 1, 2016

Appetite for Adventure

Originally published in the 2016 FAMILY issue of (614) Magazine

Kids are hardwired to try new things. From the day they are born until apprehension and self-doubt browbeat them into social submission, they are really open to anything. They’re growing up in a world that is always on and always connected. Their friends and interests are far more diverse than ours were because they aren’t limited to a few square blocks and whatever adventure they can find before the sun goes down.

As parents, we often fail to feed that willingness to try new things, especially when it comes to new foods. And most restaurants don’t make it any easier on us. Sadly, there is nothing savvy or sophisticated about the average kids menu. Next time, just skip it entirely and try these tips to satisfy your child’s appetite for adventure.

Small Plates and Daily Specials

Da Levee | 765 n High St.
Small plates are the right size and right price to blow off uninspiring kids menus elsewhere. This perennial favorite creole hole in the wall is famous for them. Their rotating lineup and lunch hours at both locations offer endless possibilities. The black bean and corn Maque Choux, Cheesy Craw Etouffee, or hearty Gumbo, each served with a slab of slightly spicy “Magic Bread,” are just $5. Add a side of Andouille sausage, “Kickin’ Chikin” or extra rice for just a little more, or go with a “half-and-half” plate at only $8 for your eager eater.

Tora | 1330 N Hamilton Rd.
Suburban sushi joints may not be an obvious option for kid-friendly fare, but they should be. Tora’s deep and descriptive menu (with helpful English translations) make their Tuesday specials a great half-price pick for your half-pints. Start simple with a Tora California roll of snow crab, cucumber and avocado, then work up to a more daring Black Spider roll, featuring fried soft shell crab, spicy mayo, and black sesame seeds. Even their eel sauce goes down easy. Weekday specials often include Tako Yaki, or batter-fried balls of chopped octopus.

Dine Family Style

Erawan Thai | 3589 Refugee Rd.
Skip the PB&J and try the Chicken Satay, skewered and served with both peanut and cucumber sauces for kids who like to dip their dinner. Erawan excels as an authentic family style dining destination. The menu is impressive, exhaustive, and the portions are huge. Order a mix of appetizers and entrees and enough plates to go around. The Pad Thai is a sweet and spicy serving of fried egg, sprouts, and scallions with wide rice noodles. Pick your meat and enjoy the heat, or cool it down with the Num Tok, or grilled beef salad served over rice.

SuperChefs | 199 E Broad St.
Every kid loves breakfast anytime, and SuperChef’s ups the hero factor with giant-sized, comic book inspired décor to match their oversized menu. There are ample options for over-the-top pancake confections, but don’t let sweet triumph over savory without a fight. Try “The Hulk,” two green waffle sandwiches with eggs, American cheese, sausage, candied bacon, and maple syrup. Or try his evil alternative “The Juggernaut,” two red waffle sandwiches with fried chicken, eggs over medium, and Pepper Jack instead. Both are big enough to share.

Kid Favorites with Adult Attitude

Bono Pizza | 1412 Presidential Dr.
For those who don’t know Bono, they used to operate out of the short end of a Grandview carryout, baking their pizzas in the parking lot. They now occupy a townhouse-turned-restaurant a few blocks away, but offer the same quirky combinations as always. Don’t let the dimly lit diner vibe dissuade you. Stay safe with the San Rolando of pepperoni, crumbled sausage, and mozzarella, or be bold with the Waikiki “Jamie Style,” their regular Hawaiian pie of imported ham and pineapple, plus cinnamon, sliced almonds, and shredded coconut.

El Pollo Perucho | 727 Georgesville Rd.
Forget the chicken nuggets and tired fries. Go for the Pollo a la Brasa, marinated in garlic, cumin, and paprika, then spit-roasted over charcoal until the skin is as crispy as the meat is succulent. Peruvian chicken is ordered by the quarter, half, or you can buy the whole bird. Upgrade your fries to Yuca Fritas, or deep-fried cassava, for something decidedly different. Kick Kool-Aid to the curb and wash it all down with a tall, cold Chicha Morada, a sweet treat made from purple corn and pineapple juice, seasoned with cinnamon and cloves.

Eat with your Hands

Addis Restaurant | 3750 Cleveland Ave.
Channel your own inner child and eat with your hands. Injera is about as kid-friendly as food gets. The spongy buckwheat crepes serve as both a staple and a utensil. “Addis” actually means “new” in Amharic, the official language of Ethiopia—so let the owners know if you’re new too, and they’ll prepare you a platter with a bit of everything. The Mahbarawi, stewed lean beef with onions, peppers, tomatoes, and garlic, or the Doro Tibs, simmered cuts of chicken, might require less lobbying than the legumes, beets, and unique vegetable dishes.

Banana Leaf | 816 Bethel Rd.
Dare to go dumpling at Banana Leaf. Sneak in some green things with Pakoda, dumplings made from a South Indian mix of chickpea flour and fresh veggies, or some Kachori, spicy green pea hush puppies. Samosas sell themselves. What kid doesn’t love little fried triangles stuffed with mashed potatoes? Keep it simple and order something from the Chaats menu, street foods that are sweet, spicy, tangy, and crispy. Once your little one graduates to a fork, consider the Grand Buffet. If your kid really digs it, they even offer cooking classes for grownups. ▩

June 1, 2016

In Our Nature

Originally published in the June 2016 issue of (614) Magazine

Art is about contrast and conflict — and humanity’s indelible imprint on the environment has never looked as striking, or haunting, as it does when explored by artist Laura Sanders. Her latest exhibition, aptly titled In Our Nature, runs through June 30 at Joseph Editions Gallery, 17 W Russell Street in the Short North.

“I do wonder if all this plastic will be our enduring creation, our fossil remains,” Sanders explained. “I also consider the reciprocal nature of our relationship to the environment. We are shaped by it, and as we change the environment, we change ourselves.”

Those new to Sanders’s work could easily mistake the photorealism of oil and canvas for images that were captured instead of created. One such piece titled “Winter Light” features a young girl in a crocheted cap watching the brisk sky through a large swatch of vinyl construction fence. The waves of orange plastic fold to form a series of tiny windows, casting eerie geometric shadows across her wind-chapped face and rumpled coat.

The exhibition also includes nostalgia-inspired, scientific field illustrations of flora seemingly trapped in plastic bottles — almost like specimen containers

“The work in this show continues my interest in merging the figure and the landscape, with the drawings being the exception. In those, the plastic becomes a stand-in for the human presence,” Sanders noted. “In these, I have drawn plastic water bottles containing reflections of flowers with their Latin names in calligraphy. In my imaginary versions, we have only the captured reflections of the flowers available for study.”

The series is both warm and cold at the same time, much like the organic curves of the plastic vessels. In scarcely a century, we’ve gone from storing food we grew ourselves in glass jars, to eating processed food from metal cans, to plastic bottles filled with chemicals and carbonation. Despite their ubiquity, plastic bottles are both intimate and expendable — designed to hold in our hand and put to our lips, only to be quickly discarded and forgotten.

“I particularly love the paintings on paper in this show — her witty take on 18th century botanical drawings, trapping a blossom in a cage of a plastic water bottle,” concurred director Teresa Kelley. “Joseph Editions seeks to provide a platform for world-class art with local roots, bringing exciting artists from the larger art world to Columbus via the more accessible medium of editions, and showing work by incredible talents like Laura Sanders.”

“The work that perhaps encapsulates this exhibition best is the painting of a single plastic gun held up, finger on trigger. But when we look closely, we see the gun is pointed back at the shooter. It’s a wonderful visual metaphor and I think this type of work is unexpected by those who have followed Laura’s career,” Kelley explained. “I love when an artist grows and changes, and I’m excited by how the work has been embraced by collectors.”

“The Ohio Portfolio project was a great opportunity for Ohio artists to go to New York and work with a master printmaker to create an original edition print,” Sanders explained. “The result is a great opportunity for collectors in Columbus to create a collection of Ohio artists’ work affordably.”

Originally from Detroit, Michigan, Sanders was initially drawn to Central Ohio to study at the Columbus College of Art and Design. Community and opportunity eventually helped make Clintonville her home.

“Recently, I had a conversation with a new arrival to Columbus, explaining how I met many of my artist friends. I kept coming back to the Ohio Art League and what a great community building organization it has been over the years,” she explained further. “For me, having the moral support of artist friends has been a big part of what makes Columbus a great place to work.”

“With CCAD, the Pizzuti Collection, the Wexner Center and the Columbus Museum of Art all having contemporary art exhibition programs, artists have the opportunity to see work that is being made now,” Sanders noted. “Being able to think about my work in the context of what is going on nationally without traveling to New York is a great asset to living here.” ▩

For hours and more info, visit josepheditions.com. For more of Sanders’ work, visit laurasandersart.com.

April 1, 2016

The Ties that Grind

Originally published in the April 2016 issue of (614) Magazine

Can something as simple as a cup of coffee really save the life of a child?

Sisters Victoria Calderon Nunes and Virginia Nunes Gutierrez think so, and they’re ready to put their passions to the test this month with the opening of Bottoms Up Coffee Co-op in Franklinton.

“Bottoms Up Coffee Co-op’s mission is to use coffee and coworking as a means to social change by reducing infant mortality and increasing workforce development,” explained Calderon Nunes, whose career combination of marketing and community outreach are an ideal fit for the ambitious endeavor.

Coworking, for those new to the parlance, is a shared home base for freelancers and microbusinesses too small to need a dedicated office, but too big to get by operating off of the kitchen table any longer. They’re hives of collective energy where the creative class mingles, finding complementary expertise and opportunities to collaborate. Prices and amenities vary, but the principle is the same. If Apple were founded today, odds are it would have happened in a coworking community instead of a dingy garage.

But bottomless coffee and a place to plug in your laptop are also a means to an end. Columbus’s near west side isn’t called “The Bottoms” simply because the low-lying land was once ravaged by floodwaters a century ago. It’s an area of recent revitalization, as well as multigenerational poverty that a fresh coat of paint can’t easily cover up.

“We come from humble backgrounds. We don’t just know poverty—we know third-world poverty,” Nunes Gutierrez confessed. Her experience as a community health worker offers a first-hand perspective on social factors that contribute to systemic poverty. “We want to create tangible change, and Franklinton is a neighborhood that desperately needs it.”

The sisters came to Ohio by way of Philadelphia. Victoria worked remotely for a local marketing agency while living in Cleveland. Virginia started a niche tourism operation in the Canary Islands. But family ties eventually pulled both back to Columbus. Their family owns El Arepazo, the quaint Venezuelan grill tucked away on Pearl Alley and Gay Street, with locations now in German Village and a wine and tapas concept in Gahanna.

Bringing something both familiar and unexpected to Columbus may be in their DNA. But coupled with an accidental blend of hospitality and marketing experience, there is also a contagious optimism that small changes can make a significant impact.

Franklinton has among the highest rates of infant mortality in Central Ohio, and the sisters have aligned their mission with the City of Columbus’ nonprofit, CelebrateOne, of reducing those rates by 40 percent countywide in the next five years.

“Simple opportunities to connect people in need, like résumé review or mentoring opportunities, are also part of our workforce development purpose,” Calderon Nunes noted.

Memberships that fund the co-op’s causes come in several levels. In addition to the traditional desk and data options for entrepreneurs and socially minded startups, Bottoms Up offers a monthly coffee subscription for patrons who stop in often for a cup and want to make the next level of commitment. There is also a “Franklinton Legacy” membership for those who would like to make a more substantial recurring contribution. All memberships include access to networking events and community engagement opportunities.

“We built it for ourselves, but we also wanted to create a safe space to talk about solutions,” noted Nunes Gutierrez. The two also own a small marketing company specifically focused on serving nonprofits and social enterprises. Like many café consultants, having a place to meet clients was always a bit of a struggle.

Even the building itself is a metaphor for this spirit of renewal. It was built as a post office following the flood of 1913 that wiped out homes throughout the neighborhood. (Cowork tenants will notice salvaged brass post office boxes, a hat tip to the building’s former self.) Beneath the ornate tin tile ceiling and skylights, are the brick walls and heavy beams of a fortress. Even the floors have been repaired with reclaimed lumber from Franklinton. It will take more than a hard rain to topple this red brick behemoth.

“We’d already decided on the name of the business, both as a reference to the act of drinking coffee and the community reinvestment,” Calderon Nunes explained. “But when we found a photo of the two homes that used to be on this spot literally ‘bottoms up,’ we knew it was perfect.”

The exterior wall of Bottoms Up features a mural inspired by that image and a visible reminder that better days are ahead for Franklinton.

“We did a lot of the work ourselves, tearing out sheet rock with sledgehammers. But when we were refinishing the floors, people from the community all came to help—friends, local residents, fire fighters from across the street, members of St. John’s Episcopal Church,” Nunes Gutierrez said. “Now they have a connection to the building, too. We’re not even open and it’s already a community coffeehouse.” ▩

Bottoms Up is located at 1069 W Broad St. For more, visit bottomsupcoffee.com