Author: J.R. McMillan (page 9 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 1, 2018

Dead Celebrity

Originally published in the March 2018 issue of (614) Magazine

Chuck Lamb clutched his mother’s hand as the steady stream of mourners approached his father’s casket. He recognized a few faces from the family’s infamous backyard poker parlor, attracting traveling card sharks eager to ante up with the local gambling legend and sometimes moonshiner. Even Chuck had his own side hustle since the age of six, running sandwiches and chips to the players for tips long into the night.

For someone as fabled as his father, the funeral still had way too many folks for just family and friends. Reverend Billy Graham himself was there to deliver the eulogy, but it was the guys in fitted suits and fedoras that stood out in rural North Carolina — each passing by the casket in suspicious silence. Chuck whispered into his mother’s ear wanting to know why they were there. Her reply was almost prophetic.

“They’re here to make sure he’s really dead.”

Columbus seems to inspire unlikely celebrities, from a long-shot boxer named Buster to a guy whose penchant for potato salad nearly broke the internet. Chuck Lamb may not have the same name recognition or notoriety, but you’d be hard-pressed to find any actor more committed to character. He’d moved here to his mother’s hometown as a wide-eyed kid from the foothills of Appalachia, but always dreamed of something a bit bigger. Without the looks or chops expected by an industry built on image and experience, this everyman turned a singular skill into a career as a corpse.

Chuck Lamb is the “Dead Body Guy”.

“It was always on my bucket list to see my name in the credits for a movie or television show,” he explained. “I loved the beginning of Law & Order. Every episode opened with Jerry Orbach standing over a dead body making some smart-ass remark.”

Chuck and his wife Tonya hatched a plan. Posed in creative states of comical demise, she photographed her husband for the newly registered deadbodyguy.com website, which he’d whipped together on a whim. (Television crime dramas must always be looking for victims, right?)

“She came up with several clever ways to kill me and we posted the pictures. Tonya made up the blood and everything,” Lamb quipped. “Within six weeks, we were on the front page of the New York Times.”

That’s when macabre soon became surreal. Eager to land the first morning television interview, the major networks each angled for Lamb’s exclusive attention.

“I was on the phone at home with both the Today Show and CBS, clicking between the two, and Good Morning America on my cellphone — all at the same time,” Lamb recalled. “They all wanted me to do their show first.” NBC ultimately came back with the best offer, a promised appearance on one of their series, and CBS was still ready to send a limo to pick him up at Rockefeller Center to immediately do their show the same day. ABC wasn’t interested in third place and passed altogether, or so it seemed.

“I was at Port Columbus getting ready to catch my flight to New York and a camera crew from ABC tried to ambush me for an interview to air on Good Morning America before I could get to the Today Show,” he revealed. Lamb was having none of it. “When I got there, NBC actually booked my hotel room under an assumed name to keep the other networks from finding me.”

Forget slasher movies — network television is cut-throat.

Numerous notable and also-ran roles followed, but never quite ignited demand for a well-seasoned stiff. Expectations were high for an appearance on an episode of the sitcom “What I Like About You”, but most of Lamb’s cameo was left on the cutting room floor.

“I went out there for two days, sat for hours and hours, and all you see is me slumped over and my bald head. They never showed my face,” Lamb lamented. “That was supposed to be my breakout performance. But if you blinked, you missed it.”

There was also that time the Dead Body Guy bumped into the Terminator.

Schwarzenegger happened to be walking into Hollywood Casino at the same moment as Lamb. It turns out Chuck had worked on a TV pilot with Arnold’s old acting coach and introduced himself. The two shared memories of working with their mutual friend while someone from Schwarzenegger’s entourage ran out to the parking lot to grab a copy of his autobiography, Total Recall, which Arnold personally inscribed.

Lamb’s most recent television work was his most animated to date, an upcoming appearance on the game show reboot of To Tell The Truth, featuring Denise Richards, Kal Penn, Ken Marino, and Theresa the Long Island Medium. Celebrity contestants ask a panel of three guests questions and try to guess who are the imposters, and who is telling the truth. Chuck’s delivery was, of course, deadpan.

“The producers contacted me about doing the show. We shot it months ago, but it hasn’t aired yet,” he noted. “Theresa came over and asked to see all of our hands and immediately said she knew who it was. I fooled two of the four.”

Celebrity, living or otherwise, was at best a stunt that seemed to outlast its original intent, and Law & Order. Following a few unfortunate injuries, and multiple back surgeries, Lamb realized retirement was in his cards. (Save maybe a casting call from The Walking Dead — a dying wish, if you will.)

“After more opportunities and laughs than I ever expected or deserved, I need to stop before it actually kills me.” he explained, suggesting he’d like to pass on the legacy and namesake of the Dead Body Guy to the right person, like Zorro or Batman handing the mask to the next anonymous hero. “I don’t want this dream to die with me.” ▩

January 1, 2018

Family Jewel

Originally published in the January 2018 issue of (614) Magazine

The line to get in the city’s newest hot spot already stretched down the sidewalk, so I discreetly slipped in the side door. Down some stairs and through the commotion of the kitchen, I was politely ushered into the heart of the restaurant where the owner eagerly waited to greet me with a firm handshake and the best table in the house.

It wasn’t quite the Copacabana scene from Goodfellas, but it was damn close.

Even from across a room, Jeff Ruby is larger than life. With an unmistakable swagger and swirl of smoke, he conducted an orchestra of carpenters and electricians like woodwinds and brass, using his cigar as a baton to maintain the brisk tempo.

Less than a month from opening, his latest signature steakhouse in downtown Columbus was far from finished. It was a symphony of chaos.

“Columbus is a city we’ve had our eyes on for a long time,” said Ruby, whose ominous silhouette and brash persona may seem at odds with the requisites of a restaurateur. He’s more of a midwestern wiseguy. But it’s that stubborn, straight-shooting style that is surely behind his acclaim, not an impediment. “It’s close to our headquarters so we can pay close attention to it. We don’t like to go far from home. That’s when quality suffers.”

Plans to open at Easton were scuttled by Smith & Wollensky, and efforts to move into the empty Morton’s location also fell through. But that closing, and the western migration of Hollywood Casino’s Final Cut left a void for a downtown steakhouse Ruby was ready to fill.

“People from Columbus have been supporting our restaurants in Cincinnati for decades. They’ve been telling us for years to open in Columbus,” Ruby noted. “They don’t come to our restaurants because they’re hungry. They can go to the refrigerator. There is a sense of experience here.”

That “experience,” even in a city like Columbus with a booming restaurant scene, isn’t always enough. Generational and economic trends are conspiring against institutions and cultural rituals that used to define our social interactions. Uber Eats, Door Dash, and a dozen similar services are becoming to the restaurants business what Netflix and Redbox have to movie theaters. Both industries are struggling just to get people off the couch.

The motion picture metaphor doesn’t escape Ruby.

“The restaurant business, in my view, is living theater. Everyday a curtain goes up and you have a new audience. I named my company Jeff Ruby Culinary Entertainment because we’re in the entertainment business,” he said. “When we open a new restaurant, we have a casting call. We audition our employees. Everyone has a role. I tell a story with every restaurant.”

That story certainly didn’t spare any expense in the props department or set dressing either. Even those familiar with the space wouldn’t recognize it. The former 89 Fish & Grill, Michael O’Toole’s Restaurant & Bar, and a Damon’s Grill before that, all seem as sparsely appointed as a college dorm room by comparison.

“Our audience digests the ambiance with every sip of wine and every bite of food,” Ruby chided. “I had an unlimited budget, and I exceeded it.”

A grand statement for certain, but no less grand than the tin ceilings and tufted seats with old wood charm and old world touches on every surface. Walking through the still incomplete dining space, Ruby was eager and easily able to tell the backstory of every fixture and finish. From the stained glass windows to the wall sconces, Ruby’s a bit of an auction enthusiast, with some pieces purchased years ago and squirreled away in a warehouse waiting for just the right spot in the just the right restaurant.

If you want to know when and where the chandelier over your table was procured, the name of the Vermont electrician who rewired it, and the tiny Chicago company that restored the crystal to its original luster, just ask Jeff — he can probably tell you off the top of his head.

Lights may dim as they grow older, but Ruby has not.

For those unfamiliar with Ruby, he’s kind of a big deal. So much so, it’s hard to know exactly how big. He says he’s the first to put a sushi bar in a steakhouse in the 1980s, a point of pride illustrated as he was interrupted to personally decide the exact sequence of the tiles behind the sushi bar in the middle of our conversation. He also claims he coined the term “servers assistants” for busboys as well, now industry standard jargon for fine dining establishments.

Whether or not he used to have the pull to get players traded from the Cincinnati Reds, or is personally responsible for getting the band Survivor played on the radio (both assertions from his autobiography) remains unclear. But in an industry of imitators, there is no denying Ruby is an original without equal.

“Ballplayers, babes, businessmen, barflies, blue bloods, and blue hairs,” is how he described the diverse clientele of his earlier restaurants, where guests wearing blue jeans would pull up in a Rolls Royce because the atmosphere defied the stuffy conventions of other fine dining restaurants. “We dry-aged our own steaks on the premises, other steakhouses dry-aged their waiters.”

Serving French fare, seafood, sushi, and comfort food classics all on the same menu made each restaurant surprisingly approachable. They were never, as Ruby put it, “steak it, or leave it” — they were familiar, but with fanfare.

“Our macaroni and cheese has five imported cheeses, and was named the best mac and cheese in America by Food Network,” Ruby revealed. “We worked five years on the recipe.”

That reputation for unapologetic precision is why thousands of applications were winnowed down to roughly 80 positions at the new Columbus location. Ruby insists on the best steaks and the best staff, with training taking them to Cincinnati to ensure the people are as well prepared as the dishes themselves.

“The culinary staff — the entire staff — is the best we’ve put together in any city where we’ve opened,” Ruby boasted, and he would know. As we toured the various dining rooms, upstairs and downstairs, he called every tradesman and employee by name, though everyone simply addressed him as “Mr. Ruby.” By the time we reached the kitchen, still in the midst of construction, a handful of staff were wrapping up an order of subs for lunch. Ruby joined in and offered to pick up the bill — but made it clear the place better get his order right, or else. He’s still a Jersey boy at heart, never shying away from an Italian sub or a knuckle sandwich.

The timing of the Columbus expansion also offers some serendipity. The aging but active Ruby — or as his family calls him, J.R. — is facing the same challenge as any small family restaurant. That’s why his kids are stepping in while they still have the opportunity to learn from their father and preserve the legacy of the family business.

“I never knew my father,” he explained. “My mother was married four times. I called them my ‘four fathers,’ but none were my biological father. I didn’t know who he was until I was a senior in high school.”

After opening the Waterfront, Ruby made what was likely his most unexpected business move amid overwhelming success: he stopped opening restaurants.

“I wanted to see my kids grow before I saw my company grow,” he said. “I wanted to be a father. I wanted to wait for them to grow up.”

“It’s too bad I don’t have as many brothers as we have restaurants,” laughed Britney Ruby Miller, daughter and now president of Jeff Ruby Culinary Entertainment. Though she admits sometimes their conversations tend to revolve around work, everyone makes extra efforts to ensure they do more than just talk shop. “It’s very easy to get so consumed with work that we forget about what’s most important — our relationships.”

Son Brandon, now corporate director of training has seen this on the menu for years.

“From the time I was able to even recall, I wanted to be a restaurateur like my father. I even wrote it down on a list of questions in first or second grade, but did not spell restaurateur correctly — nor was I close,” he said.

Dillon, the youngest of the three who ended up taking over at the Nashville location after the general manager didn’t work out, is excited to see how something new plays out in Columbus.

“Because we’re opening a steakhouse that is so completely different than what anyone in this town has ever seen before, that’s a huge risk. The fact that we took the risk and see it paying off with all the success we have had in the past year is definitely a pleasant surprise.”

Now, with the Ruby clan all grown up, Jeff got to have his steak and eat it, too. He’s maintained a great relationship with his kids — and now, they’re the core of his team professionally.

“I waited for my kids to grow up before expanding the business,” he said. “Now they aren’t just the reason I want to expand. They are the reason we can expand.” ▩

The new Jeff Ruby Steakhouse is open at 89 E Nationwide Blvd. For more, visit jeffruby.com

November 1, 2017

Deep Dish Dilemma

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

“It’s a lovely casserole, but it’s not a pizza,” quipped an equally opinionated eater as we disputed the defining design of a true Chicago pie.

The Gold Coast isn’t alone in its claim of a signature style. Foldable New York slices are well known, with regional variations from New Jersey to New Haven. California has its quirky toppings and St. Louis a unique blend of provolone, Swiss, and white cheddar. Detroit deep-dish gets its square shape and crunchy corners from blue steel parts pans pinched from auto assembly lines. Milwaukee might be the closest to our own familiar fare, with square slices and curled nickel pepperoni on a flaky thin crust.

Perhaps the reason many still dispute “Columbus Pizza” as its own distinct style is because we’re not pizza purists averse to new ideas or unexpected twists on a classic dish. Critics didn’t go crazy when Leone’s topped their pie with wild mushrooms, rosemary, and truffle oil. Nor did anyone cry foul when Clever Crow scattered corn on one either. We’re a working-class town with working-class tastes and no patience for petty pizza punditry. We don’t forego thumping our chests because we’re mediocre — we’re just magnanimous.

That’s probably why Giordano’s decided to open their first location outside greater Chicago near Polaris. The midpoint between Delaware and Downtown is effectively our backyard with the right mix of local and national retail brands to make their first foray in America’s test market a solid start toward inevitable expansion.

Pizzeria Uno made a nationwide push years ago with some success, but still lacked the street cred of Giordano’s. Uno seemed to abandon craft to become a commodity, a strategy that initially worked for Shakey’s, America’s first franchised pizza “parlor”. And yet, good luck finding a Shakey’s today, aside from the handful left in California or the Philippines.

To understand the curious appeal of Chicago’s claim to pizza fame, you have to understand what it is — and what it isn’t. “Deep Dish” and “Chicago Style” are not synonymous. They’re certainly farther removed than their hand-tossed and hand-stretched cousins. Commonly called “Sicilian”, deep dish is all about the crust, and not just the edge. Its thick, airy, and chewy throughout with a base of sauce covered in cheese and toppings. Chicago-style crust is high on the sides, but only thick enough in the middle to contain layers of filling with the order often reversed — cheese on the bottom, toppings, then sauce. That’s why a deep-dish pizza takes a little longer than a more traditional one, but a Chicago-style pizza takes closer to an hour.

Though the exposed brick and industrial accents are the unspoken standard for culinary concept restaurants, Giordano’s stays true to its roots with solid service and pizza that’s worth the wait. But, they haven’t cornered the market here in Central Ohio either. Loyal fans of Chicago’s legendary Lou Malnati’s, Pequod’s caramelized crust, and the ever-eccentric Burt’s Place would still be quick to throw down over who has the best pizza in their town.

Columbus similarly boasts a trio of worthy rivals to Giordano’s recent entry into the city’s established Chicago-style pizza scene.

Wholly Joe’s Chicago Eatery | 1182 E Powell Road

Don’t let the strip mall sign with only “hot dogs” underneath fool you. On the opposite end of Polaris Parkway hides a hat trick of Windy City staples. Yes, the hot dogs are authentic: Red Hot Chicago brand dogs with mustard, relish, chopped onions, sliced tomato, cucumber, kosher spear, and sport peppers on a poppy seed bun. (You can also grab a Polish sausage the same way, or like they’re served on Maxwell Street, with mustard and grilled onions.) The Italian beef is best ordered, “hot and wet”, with spicy giardinera and the whole roll dipped in the drippings.

Hidden in the kitchen is an old-school carousel pizza oven. It took two years just to find all of the parts to restore the 1951 oven to original operating condition. The rotating decks cook the center to perfection and bottom just right, without burning the outer crust. Pizza is only available evenings and weekends, but it may be as close as you get to an all-around taste of Chicago that doesn’t involve a short flight or a long drive.

Meister’s Bar | 1168 Chambers Road

Columbus bar fare is often far better than most restaurants. Even our dive bars defy expectations. Between King and Kinnear is the home of one of the best pizzas in the city. (Really, I’m pretty sure the place used to be a house.) Craft beer is on tap, but if you’re looking for two-buck PBRs or dollar cans, the daily beer specials are budget-friendly. Yes, it’s a sports bar of sorts, but it’s worth the sometimes-tight seating just for the pizza.

The golden crust is a little thicker in the middle than some Chicago-style pies, but the high sides and sauce sequence place it well within spec. If you’re a local, you can likely order when they open at 4pm and have it out of the oven in less time than it takes to get to Polaris at rush hour. The proximity to OSU also means they’re open late. Just don’t be the putz who shows up ten minutes before closing for a carry-over order that takes an easy 45 minutes before it hits the box.

Yellow Brick Pizza | 892 Oak Street

How do you get instant street cred for your Chicago-style pizza? You bring in a master to teach your staff how it’s done. When Lou Tristano decided to close his Grove City restaurant last year, Yellow Brick stepped in to ensure his pizza proficiency didn’t disappear as well. Though Olde Towne East is far from the suburb Tristano’s called home, the pizza is pretty damned close, right down to the braided edge on the crust that makes it easy to spot in your friends’ Instagram feeds.

Sure, there was a little hushed fuss about Yellow Brick serving the already famous pie, but pay that no mind. No one poached a pizza here, and Yellow Brick’s menu was already as unexpected and outside-the-box as a pizza place could get. (Hell, Hounddog’s is still serving Smokin’ Joe’s crust more than a decade later.) Lou’s legacy lives on in his pizza, and working with him to preserve it earns high marks for Yellow Brick and a city that collaborates as enthusiastically as it competes and eats. Columbus is a big pie, there’s plenty for everyone. ▩

October 1, 2017

Mob on a Mission

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

Kimberly Rottmayer is going to make you an offer you can’t refuse. The photographer by trade is as snappy as her shutter, fierce as her fervor, and undeniable as her freckles. She’s disarming, yet demanding. “No” is not an answer. If you’re a dog, she may just be your best friend — and luckily, she’s not alone.

Rottmayer is part of a clever clique of vocal volunteers at the Franklin County Dog Shelter and Adoption Center, a role that shouldn’t be as controversial as it has become. It was barely a year ago when a distemper outbreak resulted in the euthanizing of nearly a hundred dogs, a heart-wrenching decision that polarized animal advocates and shelter officials. Procedures and protocols have been thoroughly reviewed and revised since then, but those aren’t the only things that have changed.

“Being a volunteer dog walker at the shelter can be a very positive experience, working to help dogs get adopted. But it can be emotionally trying,” admitted Rottmayer. “You also get to know the dogs that have been there for months that may only get one walk a day.”

For perspective, imagine living in a cage or kennel and getting only 20 minutes a day to walk, play, and just be a dog? (Even inmates at a maximum-security prison get an hour in the yard.)

“Over time, you can see the dogs change — become less interactive, less adoptable,” she explained. “After the distemper incident, lots of volunteers quit coming. Those of us who keep coming do it for the dogs. We’re often the only advocates they have.”

Volunteers are tasked with walking dogs to maintain that human connection and mitigate the behaviors that typically come from extended isolation. There’s a class requirement, but students, retirees, flight attendants, and the like who love canines, but maybe don’t have the schedule or time to commit to a dog full-time, fill the ranks.

Then there’s the “Shelter Mafia”.

“It was just a hashtag I came up with to describe the shelter volunteers,” Cindy Renner said modestly. She has been a volunteer for years and witnessed the fall off in dog walkers first-hand. “We have a great group of new and old volunteers who would do anything for our shelter dogs.”

When she says “anything” she means it. Sometimes the only barrier between a dog finding a home and never leaving the shelter is a decent photo. Renner made it her mission to get one particular dog adopted, so she started taking pictures of him—lots of pictures. Denoted with the hashtag #dailysam, the series of snapshots revealed the personality of the pooch in a way a single image couldn’t. It was a hook and a hashtag that stuck.

“It’s so easy to take a picture with your phone, so we all started doing it to promote the dogs on our own social media accounts. Cindy tagged one of hers #sheltermafia and that was it,” Rottmayer recalled. “Now all of the extra things we do for the dogs from enrichment to marketing had a name.”

Among the changes made by the shelter is a new intake process, keeping dogs together that come in on the same day to control exposures, and providing preventive vaccinations. But dogs also go through the system faster now. That sounds good, but it inevitably means dogs that aren’t adopted, go to “rescue” status more quickly, making them less likely to be adopted before they’re put down.

That’s when the Shelter Mafia offers its protection, with a hard social media push of photos, short videos, and persuasive pitches on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and in-person to find foster families to buy each dog a little more time, before it runs out.

Despite the mob mentality, no one is set in their ways. There’s no “Godfather” calling all the shots. “New people bring in a new perspective,” noted Renner.

“It’s not all online. During adoption events, we started printing up old school flyers — you know, like bands do — promoting what makes each dog special,” Rottmayer explained. “We’re the ones who know the dogs, their personalities, whether they get along well with other dogs, or are maybe too rambunctious for small children — traits that are hard to see when someone is only looking at a dog in a cage or kennel that may be reactive, shy, or scared.”

Though there is still some conflict, there is also collaboration. All of those canine candids from the Shelter Mafia are now exchanged with the interns who manage the Franklin County Dog Shelter’s own social media presence, so they too can better promote adoptions. The shelter also started sharing posts from its volunteers, which is quite a turnaround following some unflattering hashtags that emerged in the wake of last year’s tragedy.

Metrics aren’t perfect measurements, but in the past five years, the number of dogs that have been euthanized at the shelter has fallen by roughly 75 percent, from 6,275 in 2011 to 1,617 in 2016. More than 10,000 dogs a year still find their way into the shelter. But that number has been trending down as well — and volunteers are an undeniable part of that, even before the Shelter Mafia emerged to employ its strong-arm, social media tactics.

“There’s probably a more scientific name for it, but we call it deterioration. The longer a dog is at the shelter, the less social they become. So we have to become more social,” Rottmayer noted. “You see it happening, but you also see the difference we can make. That’s what keeps us coming back, what gets us up in the morning, even in the snow. Every day, every picture, every post — we know everything we do helps a dog find a home.” ▩

Interested in adopting a dog, joining the Shelter Mafia, or just taking a walk once in a while with a four-legged friend? Contact the Franklin County Dog Shelter and Adoption Center at franklincountydogs.com or 614-525-DOGS.

September 15, 2017

Produce to the People

Originally published in the Fall 2017 issue of Stock & Barrel

Despite the city’s standing as a culinary capital, Columbus still sadly has its share of food deserts — neighborhoods where fresh fruit is foreign and the shelf-life for groceries at the corner store is frightening.

Suburban farmers markets may offer premium-priced produce to conscientious consumers, but urban farmers markets have a different mandate. For many living inside 270 on the west and south sides, they are the only source for vegetables that don’t come in a can.

That’s what inspired Juliette Lonsert and Ruth Thurgood Mundy to found the Westgate Farmers Market last year — not just to serve their own neighborhood, but also the greater Hilltop. The alternating schedule of first and third Saturdays caused initial concern with more than a few prospective vendors. But now some of those same skeptics are fierce defenders of the strategy. It’s a practical interval to keep things literally and figuratively fresh, more so than an every weekend commitment for vendors and volunteers.

There isn’t just one recipe for starting a farmers market, but there are some common ingredients — generous community support and social media savvy are among the most essential.

“Our fundraising so far has been mostly selling t-shirts and yard signs, which we will continue to do because it’s also great promotion for the market,” explained Lonsert. “But we hope to hire a market manager, to handle the operation and volunteers as we continue to grow.”

This summer marked the first step in that expansion with a farm-to-table evening on the lawn of the Westgate Masonic Lodge where the farmers market is held.

“The idea for the farm-to-table dinner was more than just a fundraiser. It was a dining experience you don’t have anywhere near Westgate, and a community experience you don’t really have anywhere else in Columbus,” Lonsert noted.

The seasonal menu was created by Westgate resident and chef, Christopher Vehr. Ingredients were supplied by local vendors, then prepared and served family-style by Vehr and a team of volunteers from the community. Sitting under a canopy of leaves and stars sharing a harvest supper with early autumn in the air and grass under your feet, the connection between the field and the fork couldn’t be more apparent or intimate.

“When you go to a lot of markets, they don’t really have a culinary presence. I think there are a lot of chefs who prefer to use local, seasonal produce. But unfortunately, most restaurant chefs work late on Friday nights, so it’s harder for them to become involved,” Vehr explained. “Events like this create a synergy that’s unavailable even when you go into a restaurant — connecting farmers to the people they serve by showing folks the potential for produce available to everyone at the market.”

Like any nonprofit, annual events fund the ongoing service mission of the organization, covering overhead while helping to reach a wider audience. But even with earthy endeavors, the internet is still integral.

“We couldn’t serve our community without social media. It’s how we best reach our SNAP and low-income customers,” noted Thurgood Mundy. “We also have a great relationship with Local Matters. They come out and do cooking demos based on what’s in-season and available at the market. Knowing how to prepare foods is a large part of the nutrition gap facing many families.”

“Education is most powerful when combined with an access point. Our work with the Westgate Farmers Market is a family engagement, to get everyone onboard with fresh, healthy food grown locally,” said Adam Fazio, Director of Development with Local Matters. “The family context for food is a benefit that’s often overlooked.”

Franklinton is even farther away from traditional groceries. Despite being a major traffic corridor, there isn’t a single grocery store on Broad Street between downtown and almost the outerbelt.

That’s why the Franklinton Farm Stand is so crucial, and why their schedule is different than most farmers markets. Operating Thursdays and Fridays, as well as Saturdays, better serves the needs of the neighborhood where any other source for fresh produce is a drive or bus-ride away.

“A majority of our customers are walk-ups, and it’s a more convenient time to get their groceries, especially their healthy food options,” explained Josh Aumann, the farm stand’s produce distribution coordinator. The farm stand is the retail face of Franklinton Gardens, which has twelve plots scattered across three acres of land (mostly from gifts and grants) that a mix of local volunteers and AmeriCorps service members have turned into a robust, urban farm network.

Outreach is key in underserved areas, which is why home delivery is also an option, with about half of the participants in their CSA, or Community Supported Agriculture program, using EBT and SNAP to help their produce budgets go further.

“The Franklinton Mobile Market is an online storefront. We send out a weekly email to about a hundred households with a list of our produce ready for purchase. They reply, and we deliver it to their doors the next day. Our biggest challenge is getting our name out there,” Aumann said. “The people who live here see us farming. We need to let them know we’re growing this for them, it’s not going somewhere else. We want the people here in Franklinton to have access to the produce being grown in their backyards.”

Starting a farmers market is only slightly harder than keeping one going. That’s the backstory behind the new South Side Farmers Market.

“When members of the Merion Village Farmers Market asked us to take it over, we wanted it to be more inclusive of our neighbors, as we were already the middle point for the south side,” explained Allison Willford, president of the Merion Village Civic Association. “That’s why we changed the name — because it’s everyone’s farmers market.”

The standard schedule had likewise proven restrictive in attracting and maintaining vendors for the former Merion Village market. So the new market was quick to adjust that as well, with an afternoon and evening market anchored by Tatoheads Public House, an already popular neighborhood destination.

“We changed the day from Saturday, because it was harder to compete with some of the more established markets. Thursday nights, people are getting ready for the weekend,” Willford said. “They can come to the market and have a beer, get a bite to eat, and buy fresh produce to take home.”

The geographic reach of the South Side Farmers Market also opened the organization to a larger pool of volunteers. That’s how Ryan Hansen, now one of the organizers, originally became involved.

“A handful of us came together after responding to a food security survey,” he recalled, noting the diverse and collective nature of the new market. “Some of us had leadership experience, some of us just had time on our hands. But that’s what makes it work, not having one person doing everything. This is as grassroots as it gets.” ▩

Writer’s Postscript: If the soulful plant contemplation above seems familiar, that’s Blase Pinkert. We didn’t know each other at the time, but more than a year later, he reappeared in the 28-inch pizza challenge story Pies Wide Shut.

September 1, 2017

Open House Show

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

Just one final sound check as fans shuffled in. Even with the rain, parking was tight as a few latecomers found their floor seats. No one seemed to mind. It was an exclusive, one-night-only performance from an up-and-coming band and the venue was perfect.

But this wasn’t a sold-out stadium, posh theater production, or small club gig — it was Kelli and Matt’s living room. This was a house show.

Making it as an indie band on the road isn’t easy, or cheap. It can cost a small fortune to break even. Gas and lodging are given, so the only real gain is the gate. The club circuit used to champion emerging acts. Now many are hardly any better than arenas when it comes to their cut.

Imagine the allure of a tour with no bookers, bouncers, barflies, or bullshit getting in the way. That alternative is house shows — private concerts in the backyards and living rooms of loyal fans who supply the venue and promote the show, often putting up the band overnight.

When Westgate couple Kelli and Matt Blinn decided to open their home to The Rough & Tumble, a Nashville folk duo they barely knew, they weren’t entirely sure what to expect.

“We actually didn’t meet the band until they showed up at our house,” recalled Kelli. “Our mutual friend, who is close with The Rough & Tumble, called in February and said, ‘My friends have this band and they’re doing a house show tour this year. Would you be interested?’.”

Tiny shows are hardly the next new thing. In my youth, my favorite venue was the Birchmere, outside DC in a then tourist-beware section of Alexandria. It was dark and dank. You had to go through the kitchen to get to the bathroom and the whole joint tipped toward a huge floor drain where they presumably washed away the thin film of beer at the end of the night.

But it was acoustically solid in its simplicity, small enough for everyone to sing to the walls. Established acts used it as a warm-up for bigger shows the following evening. Newcomers found new audiences and made enough to make it to the next show down the road. I once saw Taj Mahal play an epic three-hour set there the night before I saw him again at the Warner Theater. Guess which show was better, and cost less than the average cab fare?

The Birchmere still hosts bands, and for a while even weddings and bar mitzvahs. The location and the neighborhood have changed too, as has the whole club circuit. Cover charges are routinely higher than tickets used to be, but the band sees very little of it. Live music used to be the hook; now it’s just the noise. A glorified gastropub with a poorly promoted band in the background is practically as disconnected from the old club scene as many millennials are from terrestrial radio.

That’s why house shows are the next new thing. They connect the band with the audience free from the traditional gatekeepers.

“House shows were something we stepped into almost immediately because of the sense of community they create,” explained Mallory Graham, whose haunting vocals and menagerie of unlikely instruments form half of The Rough & Tumble.

“I think your songs go a lot further than at a bar or coffee shop. There are fewer barriers between you and your audience,” added Scott Tyler, whose voice and guitar complete the group’s traditional, yet contemporary sound.

The two are true troubadours, with a 16-foot camper and a couple of dogs in-tow, their conversation goes back and forth just like their lyrics — catchy and clever, then stirring and soulful, without ever skipping a beat.

“We played our first house show at a friend’s who had previously hosted David Bazan. He was doing this tour where he called out to people and said, ‘I’m done with venues for a while. Does anyone want to open their living room?’ Our friend volunteered. We went and loved it,” recalled Graham. “When we first became a band, we asked if she’d be interested in hosting our first show as well. It was really our debut to our family and friends in Nashville.”

All traveling musicians have cautionary tales. Folk bands just tend to tell them better — like the gig that was straight out of Twin Peaks.

“The moment I saw the missing girl poster I felt a little suspicious,” Graham noted. “Then when the little person and the giant came in? Well, it wasn’t a giant, but a VERY tall person. Then a woman walked in and put a huge log on the bar, and that sealed the deal.”

“It was a hunting lodge about ten miles from the Canadian border in Vermont,” Tyler continued. “We weren’t sure if people were putting us on, or if our buddies knew where we were playing and had hired actors. But it was definitely bizarre.”

There was also that time when a bartender suggested they set up near the pool tables instead of the stage, because the last time an act inadvertently interrupted the nearby card game, the band needed stitches.

“Had we not been double booked with a metal band, I feel like we might have tried to play that gig. After bowing out and dodging a bullet, we became much more intentional about our booking,” Graham admitted. “We gained self-respect that night. That’s more important than a gig at a bar,” Tyler confessed.

The revelation proved pivotal, and house shows became integral to the band’s schedule and strategy. Admittedly, you won’t find many metal bands doing a living room set. Folk music is a genre of personal persuasion, and you can be just as effective playing to one person as an entire room. But that doesn’t diminish the unique opportunities a smaller space affords, or the advent social media makes possible.

“We were playing a show in South Dakota, opening for a band in Brookings. Some people who had seen us there the year before came out and said, ‘Hey, we were expecting you to play longer?’,” recalled Graham. “They asked, ‘If we can rally 20 people, and find you a venue, will you come back and play Monday night? We saw on your schedule that you’re playing in the next town, so there won’t be a lot of travel.’ They really did their research, so we said sure, and it was awesome.”

“After that show, someone contacted us on Facebook, ‘My sister said you played an impromptu show Monday. I live three hours from there, and you’re going to be passing through to get to your next town. Will you come play for us too?’,” Graham explained. “We ended up playing in a town of 400, and 100 people showed up. They were so generous and excited to have music in their town.”

That’s also the genius of house shows, and tours built around them. The Rough & Tumble once played up to 150 gigs and drove 50,000 miles a year. They’ve been able to scale back that grueling schedule because a legion of supporters at every stop made it possible, and profitable. A suggested donation and self-serve selection of CDs and swag are still better than what most bands make in an average night tearing tickets and managing merch. It sounds complicated and calculated, but it’s much more organic.

“Matt and I have hosted a lot of things, and this was probably the easiest — and we’ve never done anything like it,” Kelli explained. “It was kind of like a potluck, but more ‘bring your own everything’. If we were outside, people would have to bring their own seats and blankets. That really took the pressure off of us as hosts.”

“Everyone introduced themselves to each other as they arrived, which for a concert was weird, but refreshingly weird,” Matt noted.

“There’s always the risk of opening your home to strangers, to the band itself or the dozens of people who might show up,” Kelli said. “I was surprised people would show up to someone’s house who they didn’t even know.”

Like many social media communities, The Rough & Tumble’s fans are connected to each other, not just the band. Though technically strangers, they hardly seem like it, or stay that way for long. The weather was a more imminent concern.

“We had this vision for how our backyard was going to look, and we felt like we could accommodate more people more comfortably outdoors. That was the feel we were going for — an outdoor, summer show,” Kelli noted. “Then when it was calling for rain, we worried that people might not come, or we’d have to figure out how to fit them all in our house. But it rained, and people came, which made it a small, wonderful, intimate show once everyone squeezed in.”

Unlike the typical tour where the band quickly disappears backstage or hides out on the bus, this concert ended where most parties do — in the kitchen. Artists and audience swapped stories seamlessly as insights on old songs and inspiration for new ones ebbed and flowed. From the backstory on The Rough & Tumble’s tribute album to 24 obscure and imaginary holidays to the happy accident of writing a song about cicadas in the same key the alien insects sing, any doubts about the unparalleled interaction of a house show were settled.

“Often we will walk into a show and people feel like they already know us, so we get to take three steps further into our lives because the norm of our abnormal life is already out there,” explained Graham. “The lack of a stage allows for a different kind of connection with the audience.” ▩

For more on Rough & Tumble’s perpetual road trip, follow them on Facebook and Instagram

July 31, 2017

Ray Ray’s Double Down

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

A mentor of mine once said that the worst place to open a coffee shop was in the same spot where another had gone out of business. Sure, you could probably quantify the failure of foot traffic or demographics. But ultimately, the place is still cursed.

With Ray Ray’s there is no scorched earth — only burnt ends.

After all the market analysis that could go into finding the right balance of random and regular clientele, there are really only two kinds of barbecue — you want it, or you don’t.

“I can’t fail here. It didn’t even cross my mind,” explained a defiant James Anderson, owner of Ray Ray’s Hog Pit whose reclusive and recursive alter-ego opened a surprise second location in Westerville in the same space that used to be The Barbeque Shack. “Now if it was a new market like Cleveland or Cincinnati, I’d be nervous. But I know Columbus, and people know me.”

Despite personally knowing Anderson and his demanding attention to detail for nearly two decades, the stakes are higher than they may seem. So much so, I found myself struggling to sleep the night before — still staring at the ceiling well past midnight amid the anxious anticipation of impossible expectations. (Jiro dreams of sushi. I dream of barbecue.)

With his wiry white beard and unmistakable attire, he’s practically become the Santa Claus of smoked meat, working throughout the night to bring barbecue to good boys and girls at a massive scale with magical precision. Like all legendary reputations, it was hard to earn and remains challenging to maintain.

“We turned down all growth opportunities for the past five years to focus on the brand. We wanted to do it slowly, to make sure our processes were in place, that our purveyors were doing their jobs well,” Anderson said with assurance. “But when this spot became available, the whole package was too good to turn down.”

The new spot isn’t entirely obvious for an undercover barbecue pit. Situated in the middle of a shopping plaza on the northeast corner of Maxtown Road and Route 3, it seems like an unlikely spot compared to the perfect food truck parking lot they’ve called home beside Ace of Cups.

But look closer. It’s more than just a failed drive-thru espresso bar and a patch of grass at the far end of the Home Depot parking lot. That’s essentially the local hardware store — and there’s a bank, a grocery, a pharmacy, even a factory right across the road. What looks like suburbia almost perfectly mimics the mix of businesses found in any old small-town square — and Ray Ray’s is right in the middle of it.

There’s really no bad place to sell barbecue — save maybe outside a petting zoo. Though there are certainly better places, and Anderson decided this one had all the right ingredients.

“Barbecue should be served outdoors,” he noted. “I’m lost in this little corporate world, and they’re starving for independents up here.”Anderson is anything but corporate, but his gut instincts are tempered by informed intuition. The original location has been the unlikely launch pad for various culinary collaborations that seem to be everywhere you turn. From a signature pie at Mikey’s Late Night Slice and the spin-off success of the Hungarian Butcher, to a Franklinton barbecue throwdown, and a one-off event last month at Land-Grant, the best innovators are collaborators and Anderson’s orbit has already reached well beyond Clintonville.

“There are some culinary things I’d like to do that I can’t do with Ray Ray’s. But there will be a time to get those things out,” he hinted coyly, and cautiously. “I don’t want to bring that here. We’re still keeping this street level.”

Anderson knows his brand, and anyone who thinks barbecue is just swine, Cheerwine, and a bunch of picnic tables oversimplifies the cultural complexity that comes with any expansion of a beloved business.

“We have a lot of room for growth, that’s why we put in two smokers. We can do catering here, and now we have that capacity. But we don’t want to spread ourselves too thin by doing things we don’t do,” he noted with a nod to the empty stage that used to host bands under the former owner. “We’re not a live music venue, we’re not a bar. If you do all of those other things, your quality suffers. Simple works. I think our customers respect that.”

Westerville patrons may recognize some familiar faces. To ensure the new Ray Ray’s matched more than just the menu, Anderson split his existing team in half, then hired at both locations.

“Barbecue is an art that you’re constantly teaching someone else. So whatever they do also represents me,” he explained.

Though training new staff at both locations sounds inherently risky, it’s certainly not the craziest idea, and he’s heard his share over the years.

“Franchising… I’ve been getting that offer once a week for years. We have a grocery store that’s been hounding us to put pre-made, wrapped Ray Ray’s sandwiches in their stores. That’s f*cking crazy,” he said, shaking his head at the prospect of taking something hot and fresh and making it old and cold. “I would lose all of my credibility.”

Columbus is a city built on reputations, which is why Anderson isn’t concerned about eating into his own customer base by opening a second location. Folks already come from Michigan and Kentucky to stand in line. That isn’t likely to change. Connoisseurs, farther still — like one renowned barbecue critic who recently traveled from Texas to see what all the fuss was about.

“The national critics will often give you a heads-up, but sometimes they want to sneak in and get the real deal,” he explained. “We recognized him and talked for a couple of hours. Then he flew back a week later and came to the farm to see my Mangalitsa-Red Wattle cross, and I did a hog roast just for him.”

Even with expectations that epic, there’s no accounting for the weather. Ray Ray’s had their share of rain opening week, but it didn’t seem to dampen business or deter his faithful following. The extra hours of operation also helped to smooth things out.

“Now that we’re in a building, we should follow different rules. We’re open six days here instead of four, and an hour earlier,” Anderson noted. “We almost doubled our projection for the first week. Even with the rain, we still killed it. But we have to keep that momentum. If our month two and month three sales are the same or better than our first month, then we’ll know it’s the right spot. ▩

For more on Ray Ray’s Hog Pit, current hours and specials, follow them on Facebook and Instagram, and visit rayrayshogpit.com

July 1, 2017

Grab & Go

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

Brunch has finally come of age. Formerly a middle meal for the well-heeled, breakfast’s boozy big brother has given late-risers of every economic strata an acceptable excuse to sleep a little longer while still maintaining their social standing.

It’s no wonder Columbus has embraced brunch as more than an afterthought. Weekend-only menus allow local chefs to experiment for forgiving crowds and discerning diners. And blurring the line between morning and midday makes it the perfect test kitchen for familiar favorites with a little added flare.

Weekdays remain another story. Mornings seem to get ever earlier, even without the seasonal procession and daylight savings time messing with our heads. Fortunately, there are still meals worthy of getting up a little early — something that will make you the envy of the office, or a missed lunch easier to stomach if your afternoon runs amok.

Here are five ways to grab work-week breakfast with both hands:

MAPLE CHICKEN BISCUIT

MoJoe Lounge | 149 S High Street

Forget that puny puck most places shove in a bag and hand you at the drive-thru. This sandwich needs a box, and a big one. It’s a buttery biscuit about the size of a grapefruit, sliced and crisped up on the flat top just enough to hold together when they put a runny egg and a huge, buttermilk fried chicken breast inside. The drizzle of maple syrup conspires with the skin of the chicken to create the convergence of New England sweetness and salty Southern comfort food. Putting a fried egg on anything makes it undeniably Columbus.

Don’t worry about getting a dried-out brick of a biscuit later in the morning either. Like all of their baked goods, they’re made in-house, as needed. I grabbed mine after 9 a.m. and the biscuit was fresh out of the oven. It also comes with a knife and fork, for those who may struggle to pick it up — or with strong opinions on which comes first, the chicken or the egg.

Save a slice of cinnamon gooey butter cake for later, though the biscuit alone may well hold you over until happy hour.

MAZATLAN SLOW-ROASTED PORK & EGG

Katalina’s | 1105 Pennsylvania Avenue

Though “gas station breakfast” sounds like a stand-up bit or a college radio band, that’s exactly what Katalina’s used to be — a century old filling station. Better known for their breakfast tacos, the secretly seasoned, slow-roasted pork topped with Amish provolone and fried egg served on toasted “old world loaf” deserves top billing. Though it could stand on its own, the added avocado, red peppers, and aioli add lightness and depth to what could otherwise be a heavy-handed sandwich.

If wholesome-yet-hearty isn’t your speed, there are always the pancake balls. Famous is an understatement, considering they’ve literally sold more than a million of them. Whether filled with Nutella’s hint of hazelnut, sweet and creamy dulce de leche, or harvest-inspired pumpkin-apple butter, the side of bourbon maple syrup and house bacon make it easy to see why their popularity quickly reached seven digits.

Love and local goodness are the first ingredients for everything on the menu at this historic, Harrison West hot spot.

FRENCH TOAST SANDWICH

The Angry Baker | 247 King Avenue

This cousin of the Monte Cristo features classic French toast, but with the texture of brioche. The perfect package for ham and Swiss is dusted with confectioner’s sugar and diagonally cut for dipping into a side of syrup. There is also a vegan variation with egg and dairy free batter, Daiya mozzarella, and seitan — sometimes called “wheat meat” because it’s derived from gluten.

With the original location now complemented by expansion into Victorian Village, there’s an Angry Baker on your way into downtown from either the east or west side of the city. If you need an afternoon pick-me-up, be sure to get a blueberry lemon scone to go. It’s like biting into summer. If savory is your style, the cheddar chive scone is sure to satisfy.

Americans were slow to embrace the decidedly British version of the Scottish staple. But once they did, scones certainly started to give biscuits and muffins a run for their money.

BACON, EGG, AND CHEDDAR

What the Waffle | 1117 Oak Street

Sometimes, we affectionately call an unpretentious eatery a hole-in-the-wall. This is probably the one time that name truly applies.

What the Waffle is just that, a tiny glass window of the Columbus Food Hub on the corner of Oak and Ohio. Their limited menu underscores the genius of simplicity. Place your order, and minutes later someone will return with a made from scratch, made to order, Belgian waffle-turned-sandwich.

There are two whole strips of bacon — not just one broken into two or three pieces like most places. Their fried egg is more of a rough scramble, which is actually ideal. Finely shredded cheddar melts into the square cavities of the fresh from the iron waffle, and the whole thing is wrapped in butcher paper and ready for the road.

Their sweet potato muffins are also worth getting to go, not that you’ll be hungry any time soon.

BREAKFAST SANDWICH

Acre | 2700 N. High Street and 1717 Northwest Boulevard

Though the name is unassuming, so is just about everything about Acre, the farm-to-table concept that manages to tick off all of the boxes. There’s nothing ordinary about it, either. The cheddar frittata on focaccia (or ciabatta) with a smear of tomato-jalapeño or bacon jam would probably be just fine. But the pucker of pickled onions offset by fresh baby spinach and avocado sour cream bring each flavor into balance.

Any echoes of the original KFC that used to occupy the Clintonville space are nearly indistinguishable, as are those of the former carryout near Grandview, where Bono Pizza used to make pies in the parking lot. In their place are thoughtfully reimagined restaurants ready for primetime. From the matching plaid shirts, jeans, and bandanas of the staff to the cohesive consistency of the exterior aesthetic and interior appointments, Acre is a brand bound to break out of Columbus.

Try a sweet corn cookie, the apparent offspring of a sugar cookie’s unlikely tryst with some cornbread, then tell me this place isn’t about to take off. ▩

July 1, 2017

Hidden Menu

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

It seems counterintuitive in the competitive Columbus culinary scene for a restaurant to willfully remain below the radar. Even neighborhood joints advertise a little, if only through carryout coupons or flimsy flyers.

But some places survive and thrive on reputation alone. That’s why sometimes you go out for groceries and stumble into an undiscovered restaurant waiting within. Saraga International Market on Morse Road is host to Momo Ghar, whose handmade dumplings have turned the former Toys R’ Us into a hot spot for Himalayan home-cooking. The much beloved Westgate Import Market once disguised one of the best Thai take-outs in town. Both pulled in patrons from well beyond their backyards. They epitomize destination dining for adventurous eaters willing to take a chance on a place that isn’t worried about whether their scant ambiance will earn them four stars or a nod from Fodor’s.

Sadly, Westgate’s Pad Thai street cred has faded slightly since the import market’s counter closed for good, much to the lament of the locals. But you can still find your fix just a few blocks west on Sullivant at Luc’s Asian Market.

Don’t let the “Groceries & Gifts” sign out front fool you. Though mostly Vietnamese and Cambodian, the menu of more than a dozen dishes features the same influences and ingredients that line the aisles. With only a smattering of seats, it would be easy to grab a bánh mì to go. But made-to-order appetizers and entrees are worth the wait. Though commonly considered a Thai standard, spicy beef salad is a bit of a regional dish originating from Northeast Thailand, right where its borders with Vietnam and Cambodia converge. Savory strips of beef served with a pungent punch of red onion, cilantro, and ginger-lime dressing are the refreshing, grilled summer favorite you didn’t know you were missing. Early kitchen hours also mean bánh khot might make a great late breakfast — fluffy rice flour, turmeric, and coconut milk pancake puffs with a sweet sauce on the side are reason enough to be a little late for work.

Around the corner, across from the casino, is La Plaza Tapatia, a supermercado of sorts that anchors the Westside’s booming Latino community. Once the only Mexican buffet in town, the focus has shifted toward servers and tables, which are ample — except on the weekends when families gather and mariachis move throughout the town square inspired interior. If not for the music to lure you in, you might miss the modest entrance entirely on your way to the grocery.

Though there are plenty of dishes Americans have come to expect from an increasingly familiar menu, be sure to explore the less common ones as well. Nopalitos are an easy and interesting departure for the uninitiated. The formerly thorny cactus has a taste and texture a little like okra, with a hint of stuffed green pepper. Their molcajete may be unmatched anywhere in Columbus.

The matte black volcanic vessel is huge and piled high with a mixed grill of beef, chicken, pork, shrimp, and chorizo complemented by peppers, onions, and an endless supply of fresh-pressed corn tortillas. Even if you share it, expect to leave with leftovers.

A little farther north, tucked away on Trabue between Rome-Hilliard and 270 is a Midwest seafood market that mimics the memories of my youth. When you grow up near the Chesapeake Bay, blue crabs are as ordinary as macaroni and cheese. But when you move inland, you realize you rarely find that fresh-off-the-boat flavor anymore.

So when you go out for seafood at one of Central Ohio’s better restaurants, you can probably thank Frank.

That would be owner Frank Gonzalez of Frank’s Fish and Seafood Market, whose commercial enterprise also supplies restaurants in Dayton, Cincinnati, and Northern Kentucky with the best catch. After nearly three decades, the same wide smile and firm handshake that greets wholesale and retail patrons alike still beams with pride over his latest endeavor.

Now a few years in, the tiny take-out hiding inside is still unknown to many — and it’s truly their loss. Almost all of the square footage supplied by the former offices and conference room went into the kitchen, with only enough space remaining for a two-top, a four-top, four stools and a counter.

Ten seats, that’s it. A football team could fill the place and still leave the quarterback standing.

But that’s a metaphor for the entire operation. Frank’s unlikely expansion from commercial to retail, and then to a restaurant all seemed to lack enough space. But somehow he made it work — with patio seating that pushes the dining capacity closer to 70 during better weather, a curated wine room that should be the envy of any sommelier, and an unrivaled selection of hundreds of fresh, frozen, and smoked fish, seafood, and chef-quality meats — all under one roof.

Whether you crave a working-class fried oyster po’ boy and peel-and-eat shrimp by the bucket, or your tastes lean more toward a “pick-your-catch” sandwich (of perch, catfish, or cod) and salmon cakes with corn, tomato, and black bean chutney, there is something for every appetite and palette. Even the kid’s menu has grilled shrimp on it.

But don’t mistake Frank’s diminutive diner for just a summertime stop. Hearty clam chowder and glorious gumbo so thick with Andouille, shrimp, crab, and crawfish you can stand up a spoon in it, both served with creole seasoned flatbread, will warm your soul year round. And their “small plates” include an order of FIVE lamb chops with a sweet Thai chili glaze. Everything on the menu begs to be shared, whether you want to or not. So just order a few items and enjoy an intimate date night at the only table for two — or order a few more and dine family-style with a group of friends and fill every seat.

Either way, Frank’s will have you hooked. ▩

March 15, 2017

King of Gyros

Originally published in the Spring 2017 issue of Stock & Barrel

The oldest of four brothers, Yianni Chalkias wasn’t the first in his family to find his way into the restaurant business, but he was one of the youngest. Having immigrated to Cleveland from Greece just shy of his tenth birthday, he recalled the early challenges of a new land and a new language.

“In school, we only had 45 minutes of English. And the rest of the day, you had to already know English,” he chided. “That’s why I always did well in math — the other kids were jealous because I always scored higher than they did and I just got here. But I learned English in the restaurant.”

Chalkias eventually excelled, but his first classroom was the kitchen — peeling a few potatoes, washing a few dishes after school — but embracing a new language and culture through interaction with employees.

Not unlike nearly every American restaurant today, the kitchen is still home to immigrants. Behind every counter and cooktop is someone who took a leap of faith, leaving family and familiarity to find a new future. Ethnic communities offer support for recent arrivals and help to retain ethnic identity through customs and cuisine. But it can also be insulating and isolating, preventing new neighbors from interacting and sharing their common culture.

Yianni soon relocated to Columbus, where extended family were already established in the restaurant business. In 1987, his parents opened Vaso’s Greek Restaurant. But just four years later, Yanni saw the opportunity to introduce Greek food to a wider audience with what is now called a “fast casual” concept.

“Vaso’s was full service, so I wanted to do something different — gyros, fries, salads, and a few desserts. That was it,” Chalkias explained. He set his sights on a former Taco Bell off Hamilton Road, despite some of the challenges it posed. “They built it just like they did in California, so it had single-paned glass and no insulation.”

Since the extensive remodeling effort several years ago, it’s hard to find the old bones of that Taco Bell, but I remember them well. When I first moved to Columbus two decades ago, finding decent Greek food was high on my priority list.

My first real job in college was right across the street from a Greek joint that luckily kept the same late hours as the newspaper. And I used to ditch class in high school on occasion to grab carryout from a tiny Greek place out by the interstate. My father, while stationed a Quantico, became lifelong friends with the Greek owner of a local restaurant who also learned English in the kitchen and from his Marine patrons. The former fisherman and sponge diver even sent a cab full of wine and food to the maternity ward at the base hospital when I was born. I may not have Greek in my DNA, but it’s always been in my blood.

That’s probably why King Gyros seemed so familiar in those early days, and why it still does. Despite the aesthetic improvements and expanded menu, it’s still the same place that used to have a bathroom outside and around the back. And it’s why few family or friends who come to Columbus to visit leave without going there. It’s a tight-knit, family restaurant — and whether you work there or eat there, you’re part of it.

“We survived 20 years like that, with just four tables here and three tables over there. But we had a lot of carryout and a lot of drive-thru service,” Chalkias noted. “There was catering too, but we had to do something. We had to expand.”

Rather than uproot the restaurant, he explored ways to expand in the existing space. A new dining room and patio seating with interior restrooms solved the capacity problem. An Acropolis-inspired façade and Mediterranean murals eliminated the obvious vestiges of the building’s taco tenure.

“Of course, all of this was happening right as the economy was collapsing, so some people thought I was crazy,” he recalled. “But I decided we weren’t going to survive otherwise.”

The renovations were further complicated by the decision not to close to potentially complete the project sooner. “We didn’t close a single day. We’re already closed on Sundays and holidays, but we didn’t close once during the entire process,” Chalkias said.

The new dining room and outside elevation were completed while the old dining area and drive-thru remained open. Only when the additions were finished were they finally connected.

“We worked with the health department and showed them if we did it this way, we’d never have to close the kitchen,” he explained. “We worked all night putting down tile on one of those two-day holiday weekends, but we didn’t grout everything in until Tuesday night. We opened Monday without any grout.”

It wasn’t just customer consideration that kept King Gyros open without interruption, it was concern for his employees as well.

“Our employees have been here for years. They needed to work, and we didn’t want to lose them. They’re our family too,” he said. “When someone new starts here and seven of our employees have been here more than eight years, that says something to them.”

Expanded space created opportunity for an expanded menu of traditional dishes and family recipes. Tender souvlake (seasoned tips of filet mignon), fried calamari (breaded squid), dolmades (stuffed grape leaves), and spanakopita (spinach pie) — as well as some interpretations of more Midwest fare, like cabbage rolls stuffed with a mix of ground lamb and beef with decidedly Greek seasoning and sauce.

But there were some items that didn’t long endure. Begoto (fried smelts) weren’t an easy sell. Nor were moussaka (think shepherd’s pie) and pastitsio (somewhere between lasagna and a meaty baked mac & cheese).

“I grew up eating moussaka and pastitsio,” Chalkias explained. “It must be a generational thing.”

The kids, it seems, just aren’t keen on casseroles.

That’s probably true, given the success of other menu items, like the expanded dip options with variations of hummus, eggplant, and garlic. And the feta bowls with a base of saffron rice, gyro, chicken, or souvlake, topped with lettuce, tomato, onion, and peppers are a Greek reinvention of an increasingly familiar fast casual standard.

Never one to rest on his laurels (bad Greek pun intended), Chalkias is connecting with younger clientele through an active social media presence, to fight the generational drift that slowly dooms family restaurants, as seen recently with the closing of The Florentine. The unique selection of Greek beer and wine also attracts the Yelp crowd and helps tempt and introduce the authentic charm to folks well beyond Whitehall.

The irony of starting as an alternative to a full-service restaurant and eventually becoming one hasn’t been lost on Chalkias, nor are the long odds of success with any restaurant offering ethnic fare outside a well-established ethnic neighborhood.

“We’re supported by the Greek church, and hope to have more special events like our anniversary with Greek music and dancers,” he said. “But it’s our customers, our staff, and our community that have helped us make it this far.” ▩

King Gyros and Chalkias are celebrating their 25th anniversary this year. For more, visit kinggyros.com