Category: Cuisine (page 4 of 6)

October 4, 2018

Local Haunts

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

The Columbus spirit scene is legendary, and not just for the intriguing elixirs your corner bartender conjures. No, there’s a less celebrated set of spirits you don’t always hear about from those behind the taps and bar tops, and they do much more than go bump in the night.

Anyone who has ever worked a closing shift alone has probably been a little freaked out at least once. Silence invites suspicion, and empty restaurants and bars only amplify it. Whether it’s the creaky floor in the kitchen or fear of the guy you cut off earlier lurking in the parking lot, our imaginations easily get the better of us.

But sometimes, maybe, it’s something more.

Cue Bucky Cutright, preeminent authority on local haunts, the places where we eat, drink, and frequent everyday with strange histories and supernatural happenings seldom spoken.

“I was a bit gloomy in my adolescence, and the stories coworkers would relate about mysterious noises emanating from empty banquet rooms or unexplained shadows and figures encountered in darkened hallways really stuck with me,” Cutright recalled, having worked in restaurants and bars himself since his teens. “After that, it wasn’t too far of a line between being fascinated with the experiences people were telling me about and connecting them with the historical record.”

That macabre convergence of history and mystery, coupled with Cutright’s passion and penchant for storytelling, were the inspiration for Columbus Ghost Tours. From seasonal Spirit Strolls and the more family-friendly Creepy Columbus, by far the most popular is Booze & Boos, a bus tour of our otherworldly underbelly.

“Before I knew it, I was plotting a narrative and a corresponding course through the downtown area while, honing my knowledge of the city’s dark past,” he explained. Initial tours were just meant for friends. Everywhere we went people would ask for business cards and want to know how they could sign up. It’s more like the business choose me than the other way around.”

Cutright’s costumed stagecraft and curatorial credibility aren’t ancillary. He confessed he had his own brush with the unexplained about a decade ago in the basement of certain Short North establishment where employees have reported more ominous encounters, like the sensation of being shoved or having their hair pulled.

“I was sitting in this room the bar closed with a friend after and we were discussing the building’s hauntings. As we were talking, the fluorescent lights in the corner of the office began to flicker. This, in itself, wasn’t anything out of the ordinary,” he explained. “It was when the flickering began to be accompanied by the sound of something clacking its nails and scratching down the wall that things became unnerving. We were both sitting within a few feet of this sound and could see that the corner was clear of anything that could make such a noise.”

The basement walls were solid stone so the sound wasn’t coming from the other side. But with abandoned drains and old pipes connecting several building in the area, Cutright rationalized the sound away as perhaps a rodent that must have become trapped. He even wrote a note for the owner, hoping to help free the poor creature stuck inside—until a closer look revealed otherwise.

“I inspected the corner and discovered it wasn’t a drainage pipe at all, but a support beam that was sealed off at both ends,” he said. “There was no squirrel or mouse in the pipe. The sound of claws scratching down the wall was coming from something else. When I realized this, all my hair stood on end as an eerie sensation overtook me and I quickly fled the basement.”

Cutright isn’t alone in his unease, and the bartenders at Char Bar—often the first stop on the tour—have stories that could scare you sober.

Built near a graveyard that was relocated to Green Lawn Cemetery, unmarked graves and decomposed bodies still turn up periodically amid perpetual Short North construction. Char Bar’s basement seems to be the center of unrest, once a funeral parlor that was on the first floor, later buried below street level when the road was raised to cross over the railroad tracks of the old Union Station. Rumor has it even Lincoln’s remains were there briefly. Following weeks of travel by train after his assassination to let a grieving nation bid farewell, even “Honest Abe” needed a little touch up.

“It was Christmas Eve and I was the only one closing up. I grabbed the padlock out of the cabinet for the back door and the remote for the TV and put them on the end of the bar like I do every night,” explained Zack Price. “Earlier in the evening, a few people asked me about the strange experiences some customers have had in the basement.”

Price gets those questions a lot, but was always a polite skeptic—before that night. While checking the bathrooms downstairs he felt a rush of air as he passed the dilapidated antique piano, like someone breathing into his ear. He chalked it up as only in his head, but when he got to the top of the stairs, the lock and the remote were gone.

“I know I put them on the bar. But after checking to make sure no one else was there, I found the lock back in the cabinet, and the remote on the counter,” he said. “I locked up fast and got out of there.”

Bartender Erin McIntyre’s experience was directly with the piano, which some say they still hear playing upstairs, even when no one is in the basement.

“As I was coming out of the restroom, the piano made a huge noise and seemed to move away from the wall a little,” McIntyre recalled. “I ran up the stairs and after a few minutes talked myself into going back down, even though I was alone. I’d only seen it move out of the corner of my eye, so I dismissed it and didn’t tell anyone.”

The next night, two terrified patrons, in separate incidents, also came running up the stairs swearing they too had seen the piano move away from the wall. The bartender on duty credited the spirits—not “the spirits”—until McIntyre arrived and shared her similar tale from the previous evening.

“There were three of us, who didn’t know each other, and we all saw the same thing,” she said emphatically. “At this point, the piano was a few feet away from the wall, and it took five people to move it back. That’s not anyone’s imagination.” ▩

For details on the Booze & Boos Bus Tour, visit columbusghosttours.com

Char Bar – 439 N High Street – is far from the only haunt near downtown with a creepy pedigree. You can also grab a bite and fright at these three eerie eateries. (Well two, until the “oldest bar in Columbus” claims its next victim.)

Elevator Brewery & Draught House – 161 N High Street

Patrons report seeing footprints fade into freshly fallen snow, allegedly left by a scorned lover of Colonel Randolph Pritchard, stabbed in 1909 as he left the former Botts Brothers Saloon. The old clock out front seemed to stop at the moment of his death. Bartender Geoff Bommer said all of the staff know or have experienced unusual events. “We have radiator heat that pings and clangs, but people also say they’ve seen shadowy figures or flashes of light. Some even have pictures of it.

Schmidt’s Sausage Haus – 240 E Kossuth Street

The cobblestone streets aren’t the only strange rumblings at this German Village destination for sauerkraut and cream puffs. A seemingly benign spirit is rumored to roam the restaurant at night, rearranging chairs and brushing up against unsuspecting employees. Allegedly appearing once in a mirror, it’s presumed to be the former owner. Closing staff have all heard the stories, but patron encounters are limited. That extra Bahama Mama is probably more likely to haunt you later.

Blind Lady Tavern/1831 Tavern/The Jury Room – 22 E. Mound Street

Sometimes an establishment is both haunted and cursed. The future of the venerated venue remains as elusive as it’s perennial paranormal guests. Reportedly a well-known brothel for a longer stretch than it was more recently a meatball joint for a blink called “Balls Bar,” staff for decades have reported apparitions attributed to a murder that took place on the premises. Even the Travel Channel series The Dead Files filmed an episode there fittingly titled “Blood in the Bordello”.

October 3, 2018

Candid Cameron

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

Let’s be honest. You’re probably better off not knowing what happens behind the scenes in most restaurants. But sometimes you should. And that’s the case with Cameron Mitchell Restaurants, whose bona fide empire of Columbus-based brands has arguably enhanced our culinary scene’s national credibility.

From Cap City to The Pearl, Marcella’s to Molly Woo’s—on the surface, their concepts couldn’t be more different. The thread that binds them together is their training, and not just the kind you get in the kitchen or on the house floor.

Between colossal chains and dinky diners, the American restaurant industry is absolutely inordinate, racking up more in annual sales than airlines, agriculture, and the movie industry combined. Nearly half of us have worked in food service at some point. Often it’s our first job, something on the side when times are tight, or just enough hours in retirement to stay active and connected to our community.

But for others, it’s a first calling, or a passion stumbled into on the way to something else. And if that’s you, Cameron Mitchell might be the best mentor in Columbus—maybe anywhere—because he’s been there.

There’s a fine line between corporate culture and a corporate cult, and I have to confess as an outsider slipping into the second story ballroom at The Joseph among the new staff of the then pending Harvey & Ed’s, I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect. I’d paid my dues decades ago on both sides of the grill, but never in posh digs like these. I presumed it would be all about teambuilding and imbuing everyone with a shared purpose. But it was much more intimate and illuminating than I ever anticipated.

Cameron Mitchell Restaurants fosters legendary loyalty, with most leadership promoted from within. But how they build that fierce following has always been behind a curtain. Would it go too far and get weird? Should I be ready for some trust falls or prepare for a trunk full of kitsch and delusional enthusiasm like those leaving an Amway seminar?

Fortunately, this wasn’t either of those scenarios, far from it. And it was surely no canned college orientation either, though the sense of camaraderie was pretty close. No, that loyalty starts with the guy whose name is on every paycheck—Cameron Mitchell, the headliner and head honcho all rolled into one.

With a brand that has become locally synonymous with fine dining, Cameron Mitchell wasn’t supposed to succeed by every empirical predictor. He didn’t have the grades, the money, or the work ethic to keep a job, much less create them. (His restaurant ranks now top 4,000 employees and counting.)

It’s an unlikely story, but one he shares with a surprising honesty and humility with those just starting out in the industry he’s helped to innovate, despite his early struggles and shortcomings, personal and professional.

“I remember coming home from school when I was nine and asking my mom when my dad was coming home, and she said, ‘He’s not’,” Mitchell recalled. “That’s how I learned my parents were splitting up.”

He saw less and less of his father over time before fading from the picture entirely, and the stress of the situation often put him at odds with his mother. School wasn’t a priority and by junior high he’d already fallen in with the wrong crowd—smoking, drinking, and worse.

“I was spiraling downward. My mom and I were fighting constantly. I came home one day and she said, ‘Tomorrow we have a meeting with Franklin County Childrens Services; we’re going to straighten you out,’” he revealed. “I wasn’t really sure what that meant, but I didn’t like it. So when she left for work the next morning, I took everything I could and moved out.”

Mitchell settled in a tiny apartment near campus that was a flophouse for runaways, over-occupied to keep everyone’s share of the rent low. He was only 15-years-old, and on his own.

“I’d work odd jobs, mow lawns. I stole and sold drugs,” he confessed. “At one point, I hadn’t eaten for a few days, so bought a 27-cent box of macaroni and cheese and made it without any milk or butter, just water. I was a troubled kid, on the run.”

Out of money and options, Mitchell eventually returned and reconciled with his mother. He went back to school the following day, wearing a dress shirt and slacks, the only clothes he’d left behind, having come home with only jeans and the t-shirt on his back.

“My mom was an administrative assistant, and my dad had quit sending any child support, so she literally couldn’t afford to send me lunch money,” he admitted. “For a while, I worked in the school cafeteria just to earn enough to eat there.”

He picked up a part-time job after school washing dishes at a local steakhouse, but his grades still suffered. He failed the same English composition course three times and wasn’t able to walk for graduation, only barely earning a diploma after summer school.

“I graduated 592nd out of 597 in my class with a GPA of 1.05; only because I got one C—in public speaking,” he chided. “That’s when I went to work at Max & Erma’s as a fry cook.”

Back in 1981, Max & Erma’s wasn’t the struggling shadow of its former self that it is today. Some nights they’d serve upwards of 1,000 guests on a weekend. It was bustling and brisk, with an energy Mitchell ultimately embraced after his friends mostly left for college or better jobs elsewhere.

“I was working a double shift, an AM cook and a PM host, on a Friday afternoon. The place was about half full at 4 p.m. during the shift change, and the bar was already packed. There was pandemonium in the kitchen. The managers were barking orders, and I looked out across the line and time froze,” he recalled. “I decided this was what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I wanted to be in the restaurant business.”

The “laziest guy in the kitchen,” by his own admission, had finally found his calling and wasted no time. At the end of his shift, he went home and mapped out the next decade of his life on paper, as well as the goals it would take to get there, from executive chef to president of a restaurant company.

After picking up a couple of classes at Columbus State, he was accepted at the Culinary Institute of America in New York after an initial rejection due to his lackluster high school performance. Returning to Columbus, he landed a new job at 55 at Crosswoods, the restaurant group’s second location, which at the time was among the premiere white tablecloth restaurants in the city. From sous chef to executive chef by age 23, general manager a year later, and an operations executive by 28, his unlikely rise reached a hard and sudden stop.

“I started hitting my head on the ceiling. I knew my boss wasn’t going anywhere, and it was a hip-pocket business for a group of investors who really didn’t care about the restaurants,” he explained. “I was waiting on a friend for drinks watching patrons and employees pass by when I had another epiphany. If I wanted to become president of a restaurant group, I should start my own.”

Mitchell tapped into the insight of his younger self, this time mapping out the future of the company that would ultimately bear his name. Though most won’t believe it, Cameron Mitchell Restaurants was started out of an apartment at The Continent with a few thousands dollars in savings and a yellow legal pad.

Now with industry connections and a proven track record, he pulled together a business plan and the financing needed to make his destiny a reality. But it nearly fell apart, twice.

“It was never my goal to open just one restaurant. This was the start of something bigger. I found a space near the North Market and put a deal together,” he revealed. “I’d raised $600k for the project, and we were ready to sign the lease. Then the landlord went silent on me.”

Mitchell was bootstrapping the project with every dime he could scrape together just as his fears were confirmed. The building’s owner was filing for bankruptcy. The bank was taking it over and had no interest in assuming any further risk with a first-time restaurateur still shy of 30.

The setback was crushing, worse by having come so close. Mitchell started sending investors back their checks. He’d put everything into the project, even moving back into his mother’s condo, but practically living at Kinko’s. There was another space in Worthington he’d initially discounted when he couldn’t pull the financing together fast enough. But because of the legalities of creating a company, he essentially had to start over from scratch.

“I’d already dismissed it, but then their tenant fell through. I met with the landlord, who took a liking to me and decided to take a chance,” he admitted. “I was rolling change on my mother’s dining room table to have enough money for groceries. It was do or die.”

Enough investors still had faith in the restaurant concept to get close to the necessary funding to move forward. But the change in location and way the previous deal collapsed forced some to sit this one out. Mitchell was still short and scrambled to schedule one final meeting with a prospective investor to close the gap the day before the financing was due.

“He asked me how much. I told him I only needed $30k, hoping I might get half of it and have enough to buy some more time to raise the rest,” he confessed. “He wrote me a personal check for $30k and told me to buy more stock in the company for myself. That’s when I knew I’d get my start.”

Cameron Mitchell Restaurants was born, and that first project that nearly never happened, is Cameron’s American Bistro, celebrating its 25th anniversary this October.

Since then, new concepts have become part of the family, as well as a catering company and their own restaurant construction business. Rusty Bucket Restaurant and Tavern and Ocean Prime have expanded the brand nationwide.

“I think it’s important to know the history of the company, one based on people. Associates come first. Associates take care of the guests, guests take care of the company,” he explained. “That’s the key, a company built on culture and values—not on me—one that I hope will survive long after I’m gone.” ▩

October 2, 2018

Free Sample

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

Microgreens are the original petite cuisine. Dainty and delicate atop any dish, served at some of the most revered restaurants in Columbus, the highfalutin alternative to salad or sprouts might have an unlikely source.

Drew Sample supplies a select set of chefs throughout Central Ohio, eager to acquire his premium small-scale produce, from an equally small-scale farm he operates on a tiny lot in North Linden—a neighborhood hardly known as a hotbed of horticulture.

“For me, urban farming really was a political act, it’s showing what you’re about instead of what you’re against,” he explained. “Decentralizing the food system and helping to create a different relationship between people and what they eat is essential.”

An intriguing addition to an otherwise sanguine salad, those diminutive doses of arugula, mustard, and cilantro aren’t meant to make your plate pretty. Microgreens have all of the nutrient density and flavor intensity destined to become a mature plant, just harvested in days or a couple of weeks instead of months.

“They’re more than an upscale garnish, but sometimes folks don’t know where to begin beyond salad. I think burgers are the way to go,” he explained, noting how he tries to help chefs get creative. “They add so much color and texture. My dad surprised me by putting micro-radish on mashed potatoes, it’s peppery. So now I’ve converted several people to microgreens with this photo he sent me of his mashed potatoes.”

Hailing from Toledo, with family roots in Kentucky, Sample returned to Columbus in his late 20s, having spent a stretch of his formative years here from adolescence to early adulthood. But a soul-crushing corporate sales job and suburbia never quite fit his free spirit or sense of purpose.

“I learned something from every job I’ve had that helped me go into business for myself. But most of the time, it seemed like I was just getting paid to deal with irate customers,” he revealed. “I was looking for a business to fall back on and farming was something I knew I could do.”

Sample’s inspiration and knowledge of farming came firsthand from his grandfather, a farmer who left Appalachia looking for the promise of urban life, only to find a different kind of struggle. It’s a work ethic that rubbed off from an early age, and when the opportunity arrived, it was seed money from his grandfather that helped him start Capital City Gardens.

“I harvested yesterday and I’m going to deliver everything today. That’s my edge over bigger companies that charge more for a lower quality product,” he explained. “A lot of farmers charge a delivery fee. I live in the city, so I don’t have to—and if chefs let me know they need something I happen to have, I can add it to the delivery.”

There are no slick brochures or advertising budget. Capital City Gardens is as organic as marketing gets. Clients vary widely, but his business is built almost exclusively on personal referrals, from the Refectory and the Ohio State Faculty Club, to The Guild House, M at Miranova, and Cameron’s American Bistro. A couple of breweries also round out the list, but he’s always looking for customers, with a soft pitch and a smile.

“I picked up The Little Kitchen food truck at a farmers market,” he explained. “I just asked her where she got her microgreens, offered her some of mine, and she started buying.”

Sample originally started by volunteering with a community farm on the south side of the city, harvesting and working the farmers market on the weekends. You’ll still find him lending a hand at the Westgate Farmers Market, even beyond operating his own booth.

“Farmers markets are built on ground-up innovation. For me, it’s easy to just set up and not worry about how to take SNAP. I can just tell people I accept anything you have for food,” he explained. “You go where you’re deserved, not simply where you’re needed. It’s why I’m happy to donate my produce and time to people who hustle and work hard to improve their own communities.”

But once-weekly markets alone weren’t enough to build a business, and by the end of his first summer, economic realities started to set in.

“Last season, most of my income was coming from farmers markets. So when it ended, I was in a lot of trouble,” he admitted, even working at a pizza joint as a side gig while growing his roster of restaurants. Now they’re the majority of his business, and OH Pizza and Brew is a client. “Restaurants have to pick and choose what they buy locally, so I work with chefs to understand what they want before I plant.”

His margins are lower, and so is his surplus, growing just enough to sell or share with family, friends, and neighbors—who’ve all become less suspicious and skeptical of his unlikely grow operation. Spoilage is so low, he doesn’t even bother trying to write it off on his taxes, or carry crop insurance, the safety net standard for most farms. Worms turn what little is left into the next crop of greens.

Capital City Gardens isn’t entirely a one-man operation. Sample still gets his hands dirty, but credits his farm manager Rich Fraztel with allowing him more time to focus on building customer relationships while keeping the growing pains of expansion to a minimum.

“People who go into business for themselves focus too much on the money. Success comes from building relationships,” he opined. “If you take care of your customers, the money will be there. That’s what makes the difference.”

Once the weather worsens, Capital City Gardens transforms exclusively to an indoor endeavor. The converted basement allows for tight control of light, temperature, and humidity with crops on rolling racks rotated for consistent quality and maximum yield. While the rest of the world waits for enough private investment and government subsidies for vertical farming to finally take off, Sample is just making it work by intuition and necessity.

Urban farming isn’t Sample’s only political passion project, nor is his pioneer persona tethered to the terrestrial. He also hosts The Sample Hour, a prolific podcast started on a whim back in 2012 to chronicle the conversations he and his friends were already having on topics profound and obscure. From self-reliance to permaculture, Thomas Sowell to topsoil, it now attracts guest interviews from Mike Michalowicz, former Wall Street Journal small business columnist and folk hero for would-be entrepreneurs everywhere, to Thaddeus Russell, the disavowed academic whose A Renegade History of the United States was published as a response to being tossed off the faculty of Barnard College.

His podcast churns opinions and electrons as easily as he turns the earth, and for the same reason—daring to cultivate something novel in the age of ordinary.

Sample’s pivot from microgreens to macroeconomics comes naturally, an approachable iconoclast who thinks labels are for canned vegetables and rhetoric, not people or ideas. It’s another trait he inherited from his grandfather, who passed away recently, but whose grounding influence and relationship with the land lives on in Capital City Gardens.

“Toward the end, we’d sit and I’d read him excerpts from Wendell Berry I knew he’d appreciate. It was invigorating for both of us,” Sample revealed. “Like any farm, it would be nearly impossible if I couldn’t do it on my own land. He’s the one who allowed me to do this. This is his legacy.” ▩

For more on Sample’s podcast, visit samplehour.com

October 2, 2018

To-May-To, To-Mah-To

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

Few foods are as fabled or fickle as the tomato.

Too much water and they spot, too much sun and they rot, and the ones in the grocery store always pale in comparison to those you buy off a tailgate or on the side of the road.

That’s where you’ll find Dick Capuano most days from late April to early September. His homegrown tomato stand adorned in traditional Italian green, white, and red is on the same stretch of land his ancestors settled more than a century ago.

“I grew up here. Mom and Dad always had a garden, so I always had a rototiller in my hands,” he recalled. “I love tomatoes, and once people have a homegrown one, they keep coming back for them.”

You won’t find San Margherita on every map, and if you drive through too fast, you might miss it entirely. The tiny unincorporated village, just west of the Scioto River, was founded by Italian immigrants who toiled in the nearby quarry. They eventually built homes and planted gardens along the edge of what is now Trabue Road. Most of the original settlers had ties to the same province in the old country, whose patron Saint Margaret inspired the name of their new community.

“Everyone who lived here between the two tracks grew something, and maybe had chickens, a hog, or a cow. It’s how they got by and survived,” Capuano explained. “It’s how San Margherita stayed San Margherita. Everyone had their own grapes and made their own wine, they grew plenty of vegetables, and they all had plenty to eat.”

Development is slowly swallowing those plots of land and the heritage of those who once lived there. There are only a handful of descendants of the first families still living or working in San Margherita. Some of the land remains idle, and still supports farms like Capuano’s, where his better years have boasted upwards of nearly 2,000 plants. Most of these are varieties of tomatoes, but various peppers and signature grapes are always in high demand.

“My time is up October 15, which is after the end of the season,” he explained, hoping that the land’s new owners might let him keep planting depending on their timeline for development. “I really don’t know what’s going to happen next year.”

It’s not the first time Capuano has faced such uncertainty and seeming futility. During his tour in Vietnam, it was his responsibility to remove roadside mines and clear the way for convoys, only to do the same thing the following day after fresh mines were planted under the cloak of night. A firefight earned him a Purple Heart, but he’s put more than his share of blood and sweat into his tomato stand only to see it threatened by another invisible enemy.

“I used to sell out of the garage,” he recalled. “But in 2005 I moved closer to the road and the stand has been here ever since.”

Capuano keeps it simple and predictable. Crops grow on the same soil year after year. He turns under the plants to go back into the soil over the winter and repeats the process the following spring, planting fresh tomato plants entirely by hand.

Only tomato enthusiasts can truly appreciate the depth of his bench, like baseball cards lined up on a giant table waiting to be discovered by a new generation of loyal fans. From contemporary classics like Early Girls and Carolina Gold to vintage heirloom varieties like Kellogg’s Breakfast and Gigantesque, if you can’t find the perfect taste and texture of tomato, you’re just not looking.

“I pull them before they get too big and start to split, then let them ripen the rest of the way on my porch before bringing them to the stand,” he explained. “But the rain we’ve had the past couple of weeks combined with the heat means this is the last of them.”

Don’t count Capuano out too soon. His cousin Joe still has a plot of land just down the road, and though it’s increasingly hard for anyone his age to plan too far ahead, one year at a time is as good a plan as any. He’s technically been retired as a carpenter for nearly three decades already, and despite the long hours and hot days in the field and at the stand, he’s not quite willing to let it go just yet.

“When I retired, I decided to go into my garden as my little hobby, and it just kept growing,” he said. “It’s hard work in the field, but it’s also peaceful here in the shade. I guess you could call it my man cave.” ▩

September 15, 2018

Alt Ice Cream

Originally published in the Fall 2018 issue of Stock & Barrel

Ask any ten strangers on the street what makes Columbus stand out and you’ll probably get ten different answers. But odds are no one will say frozen confections, and that’s a serious oversight.

Sure, Ohio’s ice cream scene has its roots in prohibition era politics and the non sequitur notion that replacing booze with scoops would somehow catch on. But it’s hard to hate on the idea that the best cure for a hot day is still a cold one — regardless of whether it comes in a can or a cone.

Jeni’s has definitely raised our international credibility as an ice cream innovator. (Seriously, they now serve it in business class on Scandinavian Airlines flights to Copenhagen.) But the trend doesn’t end there. Complex flavor combinations and unlikely ingredients abound around town, along with alternate formats that redefine the familiar summertime treat.

WORLD CLASS

Simply Rolled
968 N. High St | Columbus, OH 43201
673 Worthington Rd | Westerville, OH 43082

Originally tucked inside the old Oats & Barley Market is the next new thing, Thai-style rolled ice cream. Though their tea-inspired offerings may be tempting, you don’t have to be vegan to fall in love with their organic cashew and coconut milk ice cream, topped with subtle lavender honey and crispy waffle bits.

Freeze Style
1731 W Lane Ave | Upper Arlington, OH 43221

Still on the rolled ice cream kick, go traditional with Oreos and marshmallows, or go crazy with Lychee fruit and Pop Rocks. There are also several signature suggestions, like the decidedly Japanese Matcha Berry, a green tea base with strawberries, mochi, Pocky, and a little drizzle of sweetened condensed milk.

Dulce Vida Ice Cream Factory
4201 W Broad St | Columbus, OH 43228
2400 Home Acre Dr | Columbus, OH 43231

Mexican ice cream is rich and velvety from the extra butterfat, but it’s the options that catch your attention before the first bite. From decadent Blackberry and Cheese and delicate Cactus Flower to sweet Corn and creamy Goat Milk Caramel, there’s far more than a measly 31 flavors from which to choose.

Diamonds Ice Cream
5461 Bethel Sawmill Center | Columbus, OH 43235
3870 Main St | Hilliard, OH 43026

Paletas is Spanish for “small sticks”, but these popsicles aren’t like any you’ll find in your local grocery store. Homemade with or without milk, there’s something for everyone, both sweet and savory. Whole-sliced Strawberry & Kiwi pops are cool for the kids, or maybe the Watermelon Chili pops for the grownups.

Coppa Gelato
925 N State St | Westerville, OH 43082

Italian ice cream actually has a little less fat, but is slow churned for a more dense and intense consistency. Served slightly above freezing, it’s made to melt in your mouth. Try a flight of any four flavors, or perhaps the Belgian Chocolate served “affogato” with a double shot of espresso poured on top.

Bonafacio
1577 King Ave | Columbus, OH 43212

Known for their modern spin on Filipino brunch and monthly Kamayan, or family-style dinners, it would be easy to overlook the dessert menu. But the Ube Ice Cream Sandwich, made from purple sweet potato, stuffed in a deep-fried bun topped with coconut and caramel is the street food favorite you didn’t know you were missing.

OLD SCHOOL COOL

Cream & Sugar
2185 Sullivant Ave | Columbus, OH 43223

Never short on snarky names — like Fat Elvis, Munchie Madness, and The $&@! Just Got Serious — guilty pleasure is an understatement. If your kid’s summer sugar rush makes the school year seem far away, try a double scoop of Exhausted Parent (bourbon-spiked espresso ice cream with bittersweet chocolate chunks) for a late-day pick-me-up.

Hilltop Dairy Twist
2860 Sullivant Ave | Columbus, OH 43204

Looking for more than 40 flavors of soft-serve? Swirled on a cone or into a cup, the entire experience is an echo of a simpler era. If you try their legendary blueberry shake, be sure to ask for extra blueberries and a big barrel straw so they don’t stay stranded on the bottom.

Clown Cones & Confections
3431 Cleveland Ave | Columbus, OH 43224

If clowns give you the creeps, consider yourself warned. But if sweet execution of creative flavors and a candy selection that would terrify any dentist are your thing, get in line. Decorated with decades of clown kitsch, channel your inner child and order a scoop of Birthday Cake ice cream with sprinkles.

The Little Ice Cream Shoppe
3229 Hilliard Rome Rd | Hilliard, OH 43026

For a city full of families, sometimes even ice cream gets too highfalutin. Not here. Clearly kid-friendly, hand-dipped treats of yesteryear share the spotlight with some surprises. The Key Lime Pie ice cream might make you pleasantly pucker and the Peanut Butter Brownie is the right balance between chewy and chilly.

Johnson’s Real Ice Cream
2728 East Main St | Bexley, Ohio 43209
55 West Bridge St | Dublin, Ohio 43017
160 West Main St | New Albany, Ohio 43054

It’s hard to get more original than an ice cream parlor that opened in 1950. Four generations later, they’re still serving Bexley, plus two new locations. Can’t decide between a sundae and a split? Get both with a “Fudge Split”, three scoops and a banana covered in hot fudge, nuts, and whipped cream with a cherry on top.

Mardi Gras Homemade Ice Cream
1947 Hard Rd | Columbus, OH 43235

The name remains a bit of a misnomer. Though the style of ice cream is all American, the flavors feature an Indian flare. You’ll still find the traditional favorites, but who could resist the intrigue of Anjeer, rich and nutty dried fig, or the call of Kesar Pista, a blend of saffron, cardamom, and pistachio?

NO CONE REQUIRED

SNO-OH
Various Locations | Check sno-oh.com for schedule

This one actually is a Crescent City classic, just not ice cream. These New Orleans style snoballs (don’t dare call them snow cones) are as fluffy as freshly fallen snow, perfectly packaged in Chinese take-out boxes. From straight-up Strawberry to a spicy Pineapple-Habanero, their camper turned pop-up shop is worth tracking down.

J-Pops Gourmet Ice Pops
Various Locations | Check myjpops.com for schedule

Found at farmers markets and festivals throughout town, the name is a nod to the founder’s fascination with Japanese pop culture. But these clever creations know no borders with complex culinary combinations ranging from Lemon-Basil and Blackberry Mojito to Orange Honey Chamomile and Honeydew Cracked Black Pepper.

Rime Time Curiously Crafted Pops
Various Locations | Check rimetimepops.com for schedule

Featured at various events around Columbus, these upscale popsicles easily impress adults and kids alike. Their small batch chic status is earned and evident with year round standards like Strawberry Angostura and Peanut Butter & Jelly to sublime seasonal selections like White Nectarine Rosé and Sugar Cube Cantaloupe.

OH-YO! Frozen Yogurt
4226 Buckeye Pkwy | Grove City, OH 43123

Most “fro-yo” is only so-so, further diminished by its pervasive presence in strip malls and corporate cafeterias. But sweet treats like Toasted Marshmallow and Pecan Praline, and tart variations like Pomegranate Raspberry, deserve attention even before adding any of the hundreds of topping options from fresh fruit to candy crunch.

39 Below Frozen Yogurt
85 Parsons Ave | Columbus, OH 43215

Already infamous as the only place in Columbus where you can get pho and fro-yo under the same awning, this Olde Towne East eatery excels at hot and cold take-out. Though Almond Butter is probably their fan favorite, collaborations like Honey Espresso made with Upper Cup coffee from next door keep flavors lively and local.

Krema Nut Company
1000 Goodale Blvd | Columbus, OH 43212

Everyone recognizes the capital city’s preeminent authority on all things nuts. But many don’t know they also serve their salty spreads on a dozen different sandwiches, and maybe the best milkshake in the Buckeye State. Their Hot & Spicy Peanut Butter Shake is thick and creamy with the sweet heat of summer in every sip. 

July 1, 2018

Delicatessen Delicacies

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

If an upscale deli sounds like a half-baked idea, you obviously haven’t been to Harvey & Ed’s.

The latest creation from Cameron Mitchell Restaurants combines Jewish comfort food classics with artful execution in a Short North space that evokes the unpretentious ease of an East Coast eatery. Named for best friends and brothers-in-law, Harvey and Ed are the father and uncle of CMR President David Miller, with many of the menu offerings inspired by his childhood and the familiar fare of the family kitchen.

But noshes and nostalgia aren’t enough to build a cohesive brand that carefully couples corned beef with a cocktail bar. That’s why it took a team of talent to craft a dining experience new to Central Ohio, yet still unique among the establishments from which they drew their influence.

“We wanted to do something that felt East Coast,” revealed General Manager Jill Armstrong. She and Executive Chef Jonathan Basch traveled to New York and Philadelphia to find the elusive balance between uptown appeal and downtown authenticity. Both hail from Ohio and started relatively recently with Cameron Mitchell, and in the Short North — Armstrong as a server at The Pearl, and Basch as a prep cook at Marcella’s — affording the first-hand insights necessary to connect with the neighborhood and the clientele.

“We went to Katz’s, which is ‘go-go-go’ and not quite fine dining. We really loved Russ & Daughters and Sadelle’s, which have great vibes,” Armstrong noted. “In Philadelphia, we went to Abe Fisher, which is a high-end, more polished version of what we liked, all the way to Zahav, which is more critically acclaimed with a lot of Mediterranean and Middle Eastern influences.”

“That’s how we wrapped our heads around what Harvey & Ed’s was going to be, the difference between being a delicatessen and deli-inspired, a concept that didn’t really exist in this market, but would fit well in the Short North,” she explained.

The location was already a done deal, though the updated deli counter and dining room bear little resemblance to Rigsby’s Kitchen. Amid construction hassles that abound in the area, foot traffic is brisk, even if parking is still a mess. Despite the newness and faint echoes of the former Italian eatery, the restaurant feels like it’s always been there, or always should have.

“Some people are just excited about the new concept, but we also have people who moved here from New York,” explained Armstrong, noting the table where we were seated served a couple originally from Brooklyn the evening prior. “It’s a mix of adventurous eaters who want to see what we’re all about and transplants to Columbus from the East Coast.”

It’s an easy oversight for ambitious restaurateurs to focus first on atmosphere and aesthetic, and let the menu evolve over time. But Harvey and Ed’s is in many ways new for Columbus — built around a pent-up demand for delicatessen delicacies for some, yet having to essentially introduce ingredients and entire entrees to many. Even I didn’t know Columbus had a dearth of pickled herring until a friend was unwittingly pinched by the TSA trying to bring back a small jar from Russ & Daughters in his carry-on and made him toss it. He still can’t stop kvetching about it.

Though the capital city’s Eastern European roots are represented in the restaurant scene, and with a Jewish community among the largest in the Midwest, some dishes may still require a little deciphering for the uninitiated, offering a new appreciation of why Mrs. Maisel deftly described pot roast as “Methodist for brisket”.

“Not everyone knows what a knish is,” confessed Basch, charged with keeping the menu traditional, approachable, and innovative — which is a tall order for any chef. “We use chicken livers in our chopped liver. Some use beef livers, but there’s a little less iron and they’re sweeter, and we sweat the onions down in schmaltz”.

Bubbe’s Matzo Ball soup is far more familiar, even if it’s the size of a fist, just like Miller remembers them as a kid. Egg Creams are my own long-awaited soda fountain staple, despite the misnomer, containing neither — just Fox’s U-Bet chocolate syrup, milk, and seltzer in perfect proportion.

“Then we got more creative, from the Knoblewurst, which is beef sausage made at The Butcher & Grocer in Grandview, to the Pomegranate Braised Lamb,” he revealed. “Our brisket is confited. It’s so tender, you can cut it with a spoon.”

Purveyors were thoughtfully curated between authentic brands and local sources, a deliberate mix of homage and in-house. Block’s Bagels were a given, with Matt’s Bakery and Orlando for challah and rye, and Turano potato buns from Chicago rounding out the rolls. But the babka and pastries on the deli side are all baked in the back. After some trial and error, Basch decided his Columbus kitchen could hold its own preparing almost all of the fish you’ll find on the menu, from Kippered Salmon to Gravlax. Detroit’s Sy Ginsberg is synonymous with corned beef, closer than Katz’s, and for my money, just as likely make Meg Ryan writhe in her seat.

More sophisticated tastes won’t feel shorted either, from the Latke Royale (with crème fraîche, cured salmon, caviar, fennel, and green apple) to the Seared Seabass (served with vegetable goulash, spatzle, and cucumber yogurt), or keep more Midwest with a Pastrami Burger (aged Havarti, horseradish pickle, tomato, and brown mustard). They’ll even put a fried egg on it if you ask.

Adding a fried egg isn’t the only nod to Columbus culinary expectations. Their brunch expands the menu even further, while their deceptively simple cocktails are the thread that ties the days, nights, and weekends together.

“We don’t serve cocktails with a giant garnish and ten ingredients. We’re more spirit forward, with three or four high-quality ingredients,” explained Armstrong, with the Boozy Egg Cream served in a milk bottle with a metal straw offered as an example of the more playful, less stuffy, cocktail philosophy. “Our seven-day happy hour also includes wine and beer specials, with half-off craft cocktails and noshes as well. We wanted to be sure we reach the bar crowd and keep that a focal point. It balances the restaurant. We want Columbus to know we’re more than just a deli.” ▩

Harvey & Ed’s is located at 698 N High Street. Reservations at harveyandeds.com.

June 18, 2018

The Dube Abides

Originally published in the Summer 2018 issue of Stock & Barrel

When the beloved Blue Danube abruptly announced they were closing after 78 years, the news nearly broke hearts and local Facebook feeds. But early reports of their eminent demise were perhaps a bit premature.

Yes, the most recent operator Bob Swaim had planned to hold on into June. And the Margetis family, which has actually owned the building for decades while retaining rights to the name, quietly revealed plans to remodel and reopen the restaurant in the coming months. No one has offered much in the way of details or assurances, not wanting to become the victim or villain in this story. And neither narrative would likely allay fears about possibly losing yet another Columbus culinary landmark to a pretentious gastropub or gaudy watering hole with no soul.

Rather than dwell on what we don’t know, let’s celebrate what we do know about the Dube, hoping that a people’s history might sway both sides into preserving part of what makes The Blue Danube unique, instead of letting a cloudy and contentious transition turn into an excuse to sabotage or abandon what folks love most.

Gaye Spetka’s story stretches back to the early years, when her parents first got together following WWII. “It was more posh back then when my parents had their first date there. My father went to OSU after the war, and my mother was shocked when he ordered a beer,” she laughed. Spetka became a regular herself in the ‘70s. She was thankful for the chance to pass on the legacy before it may be lost. “It was a treat to take my niece and her now husband there to share the story of how her grandparents met. But so much of what I remember of the campus area isn’t the same; it’s ticky-tacky steel and glass structures and asphalt parking lots.”

Colin Dearth is among four generations of faithful patrons, marking family milestones at the Dube for decades. “My grandfather was an Army medic who came to Ohio State and met my grandmother. My parents were both juniors at OSU in the ’60s when I was born and lived right around the corner,” he recalled. Dearth grew up to serve in the 82nd Airborne and Special Forces, but didn’t forget simpler times as a teenager spent scarfing down fries smothered in chicken gravy with friends. “I’d come home and spend 20 minutes going over the menu, but still ordered the steak and eggs every time for like 10 years. And PBR pints for a buck-fifty? They may as well have filled up my trunk.” Now a father of three, he orders the vegetarian chef’s salad and hasn’t had a beer in years. “I’ve celebrated too many birthdays there to count. All of my daughters sat in highchairs at the Dube.”

Natalie Thomson was a waitress there in the ’80s, when the Margetis family previously ran the place. “My father played saxophone and we’d walk from Dick’s Den down to the Dube for a bite to eat afterward. I started working there when I was 17. Some nights, I was the only waitress working as we got closer to close,” she revealed. An anachronism in the age of the smartphone, Thomson also remembers when tenants from the adjacent apartments used the payphone as their personal phone number, and waitresses would run next door to let folks know when they had a call. The experience was a far cry from her eventual occupation as a chef, though formative and unforgettable. “I’ve worked in fine dining restaurants, but I still love a greasy spoon.”

Rico Sullivan also discovered the Dube in the ’80s as a teen, when he and his brother used to sell hot dogs during game days at OSU. “After the game, we’d all go to the video arcade, then The Blue Danube and try to act all hip like the college students we saw there. I fell in love with the fish platter back then,” he recalled. “We loved the atmosphere of the place.” Sullivan went on to teach martial arts and took his students there as well. His wife is originally from Pakistan and still considers it her first true taste of America. “My wife and I eat there and always get nostalgic about our first date. It was heartbreaking to find out they are closing. I have a lot of great memories invested in The Blue Danube.”

Dawn Chapman used to sneak into bars and clubs with her fake ID, but actually came to the Dube when she wanted to be alone. “Sometimes, you just need to escape everyone. I was very shy, so I’d go there to write, smoke cigarettes, and drink coffee. It’s also the first place I ever had a gyro,” she recalled. But it proved difficult to be alone for long at The Blue Danube, forging friendships that endure to this day — and others just for the night. “I always hoped to paint a ceiling tile. ‘Paint a tile and we’ll add it to the pile,’ they said, but I never got around to it. I used to make jewelry, and a few of my designs were inspired by certain ceiling tiles. Tile 32 is still my favorite.”

Mike Cavender found something strangely familiar at The Blue Danube since moving to Columbus in the late ’90s. “There are so many places where we used to go that are gone now. Places like North Campus Video and the Dube weren’t homogenized and still seemed a little rougher around the edges. That’s how I felt back then — rougher around the edges,” he explained. Though a “committed carnivore,” Cavender admitted their black bean burger was his first, and a pleasant surprise. His wife was already familiar with the Dube, particularly its infamous jukebox, when they met. But he’d long considered it a litmus test for whether a date was the right fit. “If you go there on a first date and are both into that kind of place, it’s probably going to work out.”

Despite the brisk bump in business, as the days slipped toward the end of this chapter and the beginning of the next, the Dube’s most recent incarnation just couldn’t hold on any longer. In fact, the Friday after the initial announcement, they had to close early because the kitchen ran out of food and had to restock — perhaps a hint in hindsight foreshadowing the final week. As for the iconic neon inside and out, that Grilled Cheese and Dom Pérignon special, and the fate of those famous ceiling tiles, no one seems to know for sure what will stay or go. When asked prior to the unexpected last call, a bartender simply replied, “Bob’s got a lot on his plate.” ▩

March 15, 2018

Searching for Johnny Marzetti

Originally published in the Spring 2018 issue of Stock & Barrel

Philadelphia has the cheesesteak. Boston has clam “chowda.” And New York and Chicago are forever at odds over whose style of pizza is superior.

But did you know Columbus has its own signature dish?

Once an outsider from the East Coast, I thought Johnny Marzetti sounded like someone who might play shortstop for Reds or halfback for the Browns. Despite this lazy lasagna’s legendary following, the uninitiated often learn about it first from new friends and neighbors who eagerly share childhood memories of the dish and its local origin. That doesn’t mean everyone from the Wall Street Journal to Saveur hasn’t reheated the same tale of Teresa Marzetti naming the unassuming entrée of pasta, ground beef, tomato sauce, and cheese after her son-in-law, and how she served it in the family restaurant decades before the name Marzetti became synonymous with salad dressing. Even the Ohio History Connection seems to support the story.

Unfortunately, there’s very little meat to the myth. Though the restaurant was real (two of them in fact, run by two families both named Marzetti) not a single advertisement or menu from either over the better part of a century mentions the dish. Teresa was also very real, though the company that still bears her name is equally adamant that any relation to Johnny Marzetti is likely more folklore than fact.

But that doesn’t mean folks love it any less. It kind of makes it a legit urban legend. An Italian matriarch, fresh off the boat from Florence, pulls together some modest ingredients and creates a sensation so deceptively simple that more than a hundred years later petite cuisine and molecular gastronomy still can’t beat it? Who wouldn’t eat up that story, even if the details are still suspect? It sure beats calling it the long-lost cousin of Hamburger Helper.

Finding the truth behind Johnny Marzetti is nearly as tough as finding it on a menu, unless you know where to look and who to ask.

“We usually have it on Mondays. That’s how it’s been for 29 years,” recalled Kathy Pappas, whose husband, Tommy has been dishing Johnny Marzetti at his eponymous westside diner for nearly three decades. “Our specials are ready to go, for people who don’t have much time for lunch. Johnny Marzetti is perfect, so we make enough for about 50 orders and we always run out.”

At Tommy’s Diner, like most places that secretly serve Johnny Marzetti, even though it’s not on the menu, it’s not exactly off the menu either—nor is there just one recipe. Most often macaroni, rotini or bowtie also work just fine. Vegetables include onions, green pepper, and mushrooms. (Though I highly recommend throwing in some zucchini.) Choice of cheese seems to fall into three schools. Cheddar is the most popular, but mozzarella makes a strong showing as well. Tommy’s tops theirs with a generous portion of grated parm. Opinions also vary on whether it goes into the oven for a quick brown and a bubbly finish, or straight to the plate with shreds or just a sprinkle. Whether original or avant-garde, everyone seems to agree it’s not exactly a chili mac or just another name for goulash.

Nancy’s Home Cooking in Clintonville actually does have it on the menu, but only makes the comfort food classic on Tuesdays. Paul’s Fifth Avenue, India Oak Bar and Grill, and German Village Coffee Shop quietly rotate traditional, yet individual, versions through their daily specials. Kolache Republic sometimes stuffs it into their savory pastry to make it more portable, and Columbus newcomer ClusterTruck will even deliver it to your door. None of them have it on the menu. Service Bar in the Short North does, offering an upscale variation for $21. (That’s quite the price hike from the 45 cents Teresa used to charge at the restaurant back in the 1920s—maybe she did, but probably not.)

The genius and longevity of Johnny Marzetti comes from its easy and adaptable recipe. A quick Facebook query in advance of this article unleashed a flood of photos and fond recollections. People actually sent me pictures of their leftover lunch, or a casserole dish fresh from the oven, previous dinner plans scuttled and inspired by the passionate conversation and competing recipes. From grins to groans, even its detractors shared cafeteria cautionary tales and school lunch lore with a smile.

Perhaps the most telling story about the enduring popularity of Johnny Marzetti came by way of a neighbor who revealed her mother regularly makes enormous batches of it for her church, as well as gatherings at the Westgate Recreation Center.

“What’s great about it is that it’s inexpensive. You get a lot for your money, and you can add to it or leave things out,” explained Tasha Corson. “My mom used to put just hamburger in hers, but I add sausage to mine, and sometimes some chiles, to give a little kick to it.” Corson also uses a blend of cheddar and Monterey Jack along with seasonings that lean more Southwest. “The largest batch I make feeds 30 to 40, and I make it in a big stock pot. That way people can put cheese on it if they want to, or not,” she explained. “I’ve made it in the oven too, to melt the cheese. That’s why I like it, because you can really make it your own.”

Corson was actually generous enough to invite me over for dinner, along with my editor and a photographer, eager to share her take on the dish that was part of her childhood, and in turn her children’s, with total strangers. Even if the recipe and mystery surrounding it are still uncertain, the power it has to create lifelong memories and bring people together with a familiar flavor isn’t. Whether it’s served at a lunch counter, a kitchen table, or a potluck dinner, the most important ingredients they all share are creativity and community—and that’s what makes Johnny Marzetti uniquely and unmistakably Columbus. ▩

Johnny on the Spot

These joints still serve up the city’s elusive culinary creation—but days and times vary.

· Tommy’s Diner 914 W Broad St.
· Nancy’s Home Cooking 3133 N High St.
· Paul’s Fifth Avenue 1565 W Fifth Ave.
· India Oak Bar & Grill 590 Oakland Park Ave.
· German Village Coffee Shop 193 Thurman Ave.
· Kolache Republic 730 S High St.
· ClusterTruck 342 E Long St.
· Service Bar 1230 Courtland Ave.

Teresa Marzetti’s Original Recipe
(Maybe, MAybe Not)

· 3 tablespoons olive oil
· 1 large onion, chopped
· 3⁄4 pound mushrooms, cleaned and sliced
· 2 pounds lean ground beef
· 3 1⁄2 cups tomato sauce
· 1 1⁄2 pounds cheddar cheese, shredded
· 1 pound elbow macaroni, cooked and drained

Sauté onion in oil until limp, about 3 minutes.
Add mushrooms and fry until juices are released, about 5 minutes.
Add beef and cook, stirring, breaking up clumps, until no longer red.
Remove from heat and mix in tomato sauce and all but 1 cup of cheese
Transfer to greased 9 x 13-inch baking dish and add macaroni.
Toss gently to mix.
Scatter remaining cheese on top.
Bake, uncovered, in 350-degree oven until browned and bubbling (35 to 40 minutes).
Serves 10 to 12.

A freelance writer for the Chicago Tribune liked this story so much, she practically plagiarized it, right down to the headline and adding “her own” recipe at the end. You can find it here. Compare for yourself.

March 15, 2018

Chains of Love

Originally published in the Spring 2018 issue of Stock & Barrel

Before Columbus was nationally known for its neighborhood haunts and dinky little dives, we spent decades as an incubator for fast food fads that came, cooked, and conquered.

Not all went on to become household names. Some struggled to fend off their restaurant rivals. Some were unable to adapt to changing tastes and trends. Some simply spread themselves too thin. Inevitably, their franchise empires fell.

Loyal locals have helped a few far-flung outposts of these once thriving Columbus culinary colonies survive long after the clown and the crown conspired to kill anything original about fast food — and four are still just a road trip away.

G.D. Ritzy’s

Despite a deeper menu than its contemporaries, the pop shop nostalgia was perhaps ahead of its time. Their thin, crispy-edged burgers and ice cream parlor vibe are strikingly similar to Steak ‘n Shake, founded in Illinois nearly a half century earlier. But Graydon Webb, a former Wendy’s exec, was all in on the idea of premium sandwiches and sundaes under one roof. For a while, it worked, and not just with unexpected flavors like French Quarter Praline, Amaretto Cherry, and Kentucky Fudge Pecan Pie. People Magazine once declared G.D. Ritzy’s had the best chocolate ice cream in the country.

But the early ‘80s were a fickle cultural concoction for more than just fast food, and a throwback joint that was more Frankie Valli than Flock of Seagulls was a one hit wonder with the kids. Most of the remaining G.D. Ritzy’s locations in Columbus became Rally’s, many still sporting their distinctive tin awnings. But Graydon is giving it another go in Clintonville with a new “Ritzy’s” scheduled to open this spring featuring a lot of ‘50s fare and flare.

If you can’t wait, or just want to see how it all started, the nearest original G.D. Ritzy’s is going strong in Huntington, WV, offering the same menu of signature burgers, well-dressed hotdogs, thin-cut fries, Cincinnati-style chili, and those famous scoops that still have a faithful following. Not far from the campus of Marshall University, the kids finally figured out what their grandparents knew all along, but their parents didn’t — everything really does go better with ice cream. ▩

1335 Hal Greer Boulevard, Huntington, WV 25701

Frostop Drive-In

From American Graffiti to Dazed and Confused, the drive-in restaurant is still a cinematic experience. Though Sonic seemed to reintroduce the concept in recent years, Frostop was one of the first, founded in Springfield, Ohio in the 1920s before moving to Columbus. The checkerboard facade and neon sign define the era, but the giant rotating root beer mug on the roof remains as iconic as any golden arches.

Built around the same soda stand standards G.D. Ritzy’s echoed decades later, Frostop is the real deal. So it should come as no surprise the nearest one is also in Huntington, WV — in fact, about a hundred yards down the road. Teenagers and old-timers still flock there in hot rods and station wagons for footlongs and a frosted mug of sweet suds. Though the retail brand has been revived and expanded to include cream sodas and sarsaparilla, nothing beats grabbing a cold growler to take home from one of their few surviving root beer stands. ▩

1449 Hal Greer Blvd, Huntington, WV 25701

Rax Roast Beef

You wouldn’t expect a western-inspired, meat-themed monopoly to emerge in Ohio — much less two. But on the heels of Arby’s 1964 launch in Boardman, Jack Roschman answered with Jax Roast Beef in 1967. Several mergers later, the Rax brand was born in Columbus. Unlike Arby’s, whose phonetic name is an abbreviation for roast beef (R.B. – get it?), Rax was all over the map opening new locations and trying to find a broader appeal in a crowded fast food field.

They added baked potatoes as an alternative to fries. The salad bar didn’t seem that silly. Even Wendy’s tried that gimmick for a while. Rax also added pizza, pasta, and tacos to it, not unlike Wendy’s short-lived “SuperBar”. Both ideas met a swift and similar fate. But the redhead rebounded, and Rax never did. They refocused on their core menu at the handful that remained, though they never quite escaped the appearance, or actuality, that if you’re going to knock off an idea, you’d better to it better or not at all.

If you still get an occasional hankering for a Mushroom Melt and a little cup of cheese to dip your fries, there are still two (of the remaining eight) fairly close. ▩

800 E Main St, Lancaster, OH 43130
23923 US Route 23 South, Circleville, OH 43113

Arthur Treacher’s

A fish and chips franchise seems more like an import than an export from Ohio, but in 1969, a handful of Columbus investors (including Dave Thomas) took a hint from Bob Hope and recruited British character actor Arthur Treacher to be the face of their new seafood venture. Founded the same year as Long John Silver’s, in equally unlikely Lexington, Kentucky, Arthur Treacher’s was decidedly more London than Robert Louis Stevenson in its aesthetic. In their heyday of the late ‘70s, the restaurant was fast approaching a thousand locations. Today, there are just seven.

Though the three on Long Island are essentially Nathan’s hot dog stands that also sell fish and hush puppies, the four in suburban Cleveland are time capsules of what once was. The Garfield Heights location still has a sign with the actual Arthur Treacher, whose face and fish are even less familiar to millennials than Bob Hope. But if you’re looking for your malt vinegar fix a little closer to home, follow the familiar looking lantern to Marino’s Seafood Fish & Chips in Grandview where the tradition lives on under another name. ▩

926 E. Waterloo Rd, Akron, OH 44306
1833 State Rd, Cuyahoga Falls, OH 44223
2 Youngstown Warren Rd, Pinetree Square, Niles, OH 44223
12585 Rockside Rd, Garfield Heights, OH 44125

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

Johnny on the Spot

Teresa Marzetti’s Original Recipe(Maybe, MAybe Not)

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