Category: Family (page 1 of 3)

August 10, 2021

Film Review: CODA

CODA generated both industry buzz and impossible expectations coming out of this year’s virtual Sundance Film Festival. An acronym for “child of deaf adults”, CODA is the first entry to ever win the Directing Award, Audience Award, and Grand Jury Prize — as well as a Special Jury Prize for Best Ensemble. Netflix and Amazon were both eager to acquire the rights to the film, but Apple Studios ultimately prevailed, premiering in theaters and on their signature streaming service August 13. It is the first theatrical release to have burned-in subtitles, making it accessible to hearing-impaired audiences everywhere without the need for special glasses and supporting projection technology.

Writer-director Siân Heder’s adaptation of the French film La Famille Bélier feels entirely original, despite some familiar themes for a coming-of-age story. Actress Emilia Jones plays Ruby, the only hearing member of a deaf family from the modest fishing town of Gloucester. Rising hours before dawn to work aboard her family’s tiny fishing trawler, she returns exhausted to endure the anxieties and drudgeries of high school. But what secretly stirs her soul is singing, a guilty pleasure she embraces, belting out Etta James with abandon into the vast ocean knowing no one can hear her.

Though this setup sounds like a cacophony of cliches and trite archetypes, Heder’s taut screenplay and directorial restraint somehow make CODA feel surprisingly fresh and inspired. The visual style, from the deft composition of each shot to the deliberate color palettes, highlight an artist’s attention to detail and reflect the quaint serenity of her native Massachusetts. Scenes that could easily descend into predictable dialogue between parent and child about following your heart instead create greater distance as familial obligations seem destined to undermine Ruby’s unappreciated gift. Though there are echoes of Running on Empty and Goodwill Hunting, the plot and its constituent parts never feel overly contrived or overtly derivative. Comparisons are somewhat inevitable, so if you’re going to have them anyway, likening a film to the work of Sidney Lumet or Gus Van Sant is high praise.

Performances from Marlee Matlin and Troy Kotsur as Ruby’s parents, and Daniel Durant as her older brother, are complex, clever, and captivating. With extended conversations exclusively in American Sign Language, audiences who feel overwhelmed following their facial expressions, animated gestures, and fast-paced subtitles will gain a small glimpse of the challenge of having to listen with only your eyes. In a particularly pivotal scene, Heder drops the audio out entirely, an immersive and emotional reveal that will likely leave audiences silent as well. Eugenio Derbez’s performance as Ruby’s choir teacher and mentor adds necessary levity, yet still amplifies the urgency of her looming choice to leave her family or abandon her dream.

However, Jones’ poignant portrayal is so subtle and sincere, it does what few performances from relative newcomers, or even seasoned screen veterans, tend to do. It genuinely suspends disbelief. Not only is her performance as the family’s de facto interpreter completely credible, her vocal abilities capture the raw joy of singing for someone who doesn’t realize she can really sing. Point of fact, Jones had to learn to sign and to sing for her role, making the authenticity of both all the more remarkable. But Ruby’s story is actually two stories, and that may be where CODA succeeds and shines most. Just as the awkward teen begins to consider a future beyond the deck of her family’s struggling fishing boat, the unlikely opportunity to audition for Berklee College of Music starts to slip away. Though she is in many ways isolated from her family by her ability to hear, she is simultaneously the sole connection they have to their community, one where they’ve only recently become less alienated after organizing a fishing co-op to help their neighbors fetch fair prices for their collective catch.

Without spoiling the ending, Ruby’s mutually exclusive worlds converge in a climatic closing song that illustrates why Apple was willing to write a check for $25 million without blinking, the highest amount ever paid for a Sundance film.

Though it’s a film rooted in universal family dynamics, there are some scenes that are probably too racy in subject matter for younger audiences. That said, CODA is sentimental without apologies, alternating between laughs and tears through a natural narrative that is thought-provoking without becoming preachy or political. Though this is likely the first exposure many will have to writer-director Siân Heder and actress Emilia Jones, it surely won’t be the last. ▩

CODA premieres in theaters and on Apple TV+ on August 13.

August 17, 2020

Wonderful Wizard of Za

Originally published in COLUMBUS ALIVE

Columbus style pizza is an enduring enigma struggling for distinction among a dozen or so signature styles in Central Ohio, both celebrated and obscure. Thin crusts and square cuts are the obvious attributes, but maybe even that widely-accepted definition is dangerously narrow?

Spencer Saylor didn’t set out to cause a stir, but his homemade Sicilian pies did anyway. If you haven’t heard about Wizard of Za, you’re not alone. Saylor’s underground pizza empire has been inconspicuously operating for months exclusively on Instagram. But the improbable backstory of how a singer-songwriter from Youngstown ended up with a list of thousands of strangers waiting to try one of his handcrafted creations has been equally elusive.

“When I was a kid, I loved making pizza with my dad. He’d make the dough and I’d help put on the toppings,” he recalled. “You might go out for pizza on a Friday night or for someone’s birthday. But homemade pizza was just part of growing up in Youngstown.”

Music was also a family tradition. Saylor’s father played guitar, an instrument he likewise pickup at an early age, and his mother loved to sing. His grandmother was a music teacher and his grandfather used to tour with Johnny Cash. So when Saylor pursued songwriting, it wasn’t exactly non sequitur. But getting invited to open up for John Mayer caught even him by surprise.

“I used to sit in my bedroom listening to his songs since I was probably seven. I never thought in a million years we’d be sharing the same stage,” he confessed. “I hoped I might see him someday from the nosebleed seats of an arena. Opening for him was actually the first time I saw him perform.”

Like many professional musicians, Saylor also had a steady gig. Event planning afforded him the opportunity to travel a lot, which was the original inspiration for Wizard of Za, a visual diary of exceptional local pizza discovered along the way. But when the pandemic cancelled nearly everything in March, he started to hone another craft from home, reinventing the comfort food of his childhood and chronicling that journey on Instagram instead. Saylor pulled back the proverbial curtain and more than a few folks started to take notice.

“The more photos I’d post, the more people asked to try one of my pies. Once friends and family got their hands on it, they started posting to their Instagram accounts. The next thing I knew, I had people I didn’t know reaching out wanting one as well,” he explained. “I’d thought about maybe opening a restaurant two or three years from now. It’s hard to believe it’s only been four months.”

Time somehow moves slowly and quickly during a crisis. Though opening up a restaurant right now while so many are struggling to stay open may seem half-baked, Saylor’s savory side hustle isn’t. Buckeyes and Blue Jackets players whose seasons were sidelined were among his earliest unofficial endorsements, as were a surreal mix of celebrities who happened to pass through Columbus and heard rumors about this random guy slinging serious slices, from Chef Robert Irvine to John C. Reilly.

Their curiosity and enthusiasm are entirely deserved. The crunchy focaccia crust is covered in sesame seeds on the bottom instead of a dusting of corn meal, giving it an unexpected nuttiness. The spicy homemade sauce and cup-and-char Ezzo pepperoni are balanced by bubbly mozzarella and provolone in-between. Saylor then hits every pie with a drizzle of hot honey, grated Pecorino Romano, and a little fresh basil. His vodka sauce variation with fresh mozzarella he also makes himself is a culinary case study on how simple, yet sophisticated, pizza can be.

Is it the classic Columbus style pizza? Definitely not. But if that definition is distilled to something more essential — singular and authentic, steeped in family history, and a passion for people and the city they share, then yes. Wizard of Za is everything we love about pizza in Columbus.

The eminent opening of his still secret brick and mortar location in Clintonville will maintain the speakeasy mystique, absent any obvious signage outside. And though some may dismiss such a strategy as shrewd marketing or simply pretentious, it’s actually quite the opposite.

“I’m a one-man show, and the only reason there is a list is so I can keep up. But even with a restaurant and doing this full-time, I still want everyone to feel like they’ve discovered something new and unique,” Saylor noted. “Columbus has solid pizza all around. But I think Columbus has the power to make its mark like some of the better known pizza destinations in the country — like New Haven, New York, and Chicago. To be one of those places people come to Columbus to visit, that’s the kind of list I’d like to be on someday. ▩

To get in line for your own pie, and for the latest on his brick and mortar endeavor, follow the Wizard of Za on Instagram

August 1, 2020

Newfangled Kitchen

Originally published in the August 2020 issue of (614) Magazine

Comfort food is always in style, though not necessarily in season. Salads and soups seem to oscillate with our celestial orbit, and even the temperature of coffee and tea tends to change with the autumn leaves. But maybe meatloaf is the exception, or should be?

Newfangled Kitchen in Bexley gives more than a nod to approachable cuisine and southern hospitality, one that started with signature sandwiches celebrating the hamburger’s hefty cousin, but certainly doesn’t end there.

“We draw a lot of inspiration from the South — the small towns in the Carolinas where you’ll stop for a bite to eat and the food and service are homemade and genuine, not canned,” recalled Eric Dennison, who started Newfangled Kitchen with his wife Laura and their son Ethan. “We wanted to create comfort food favorites with a modern twist.”

Despite the unassuming menu, Eric’s previous stints at Katzinger’s and Lexi’s on Third reveal a refined understanding of humble ingredients and their precarious balance. From the low-country Southern Melt’s spicy pimento cheese, tomato, and red onion on grilled marbled rye to the ominous Lucifer’s Hammer, with pickled jalapeños, pepperjack, and house “diablo” sauce on an egg-washed bun, the star is still the meatloaf.

“We ate so much meatloaf trying to get the recipe right. It took months, and sometimes we just had to take a weekend off,” he laughed. “I’d change one thing, certain this would finally be it, and it would be the worst one yet. We were still working on the perfect recipe when we signed the lease.”

Perhaps the only thing that brings families closer together than a quarantine is a family restaurant, and the tiny kitchen and dining room next to Drexel Theaters is just the right fit for a curated menu of sandwiches, salads, soups, and specials. Though currently closed for dine-in, takeout patrons can still peruse their peculiar vending machine, stocked with 80s artifacts: like PEZ dispensers, a deck of UNO cards, and Top Gun on VHS. Everything about Newfangled Kitchen invites another visit.

“Ethan is so stellar when it comes to service, he’s just gifted with that gene. And my wife is so great with the guests and really understanding what it takes to market on social media. Then I handle all the production stuff in the back,” Eric chided. Much like meatloaf, the right recipe holds everything together. “We decided when we reopened that it was best if it was just the three of us, and we reduced our hours to make that work knowing we were going to be spending literally every hour of every day together. Financially, it made sense to stay lean, but we also knew it would be more safe for our guests.”

There are undeniable advantages right now for restaurants that can practically calculate their overhead, labor, and food cost on the back of a napkin. But when your signature product’s primary ingredient is unaffordable or unavailable, even the best bootstraps may not be enough. When Wendy’s announced in early May even they had run out of hamburger, it was a gut check.

“It’s really, really important that we have the right grind, the right fat content, which makes the sourcing more difficult. When we found a good price, we’d buy it, and fortunately, we were so busy when we opened back up, we weren’t forced to freeze anything. We’ve never done that, and I don’t know how that would work with our meatloaf,” he revealed. “There was about a day and a half when we didn’t have meatloaf. I just couldn’t get ground beef anywhere, and when we did, it was almost three times as expensive. We just had to take the hit.”

Recent additions include a Valentine’s Day throwback. The Pretty Girl offers more of a sweet heat featuring those same jalapeños, but with a milder cheddar, red onion, and smoky “fang” sauce. Meanwhile, the Back Step Slide combines bacon, bleu cheese, and balsamic aioli. Both are perfectly served between thick slices of grilled marbled rye. And if a killer “Kitchen Kobb”, a fried slab of bologna, portabellas and roasted red peppers, and egg salad cleverly billed as “barnyard caviar” are also your style, skip the basket and grab a sack on the way to your favorite park for a picnic feast without the fuss.

“We’re seeing a lot more repeat business now that everyone is staying closer to home. So we broadened the menu a little to keep everything fresh,” Eric explained. “Sometimes we see the same people three days a week. It’s also a bit more fun on our end, to be creative. It isn’t always easy to smile behind a mask. But it becomes exponentially easier when you have the kind of clientele we do, and the outpouring of support we’ve received has been so heartening. Failure for us just isn’t an option. ▩

For more on Newfangled Kitchen’s current hours and specials, follow them on Facebook, and visit newfangledkitchen.com

July 2, 2020

Summer Camp Soap Opera

Originally published in (614) Magazine’s digital daily, 614NOW

Summer camp is a rite of passage wrapped in revelry, rivalry, and romance — but rarely murder. So when Thurber House (humorist James Thurber’s former home turned local literary center) rushed to push their summer camps online this year, they feared some of the creative connectivity might be lost among aspiring young writers.

Hoping for a hook, camp counselors Justin Martin and Frankie Diederich decided to challenge campers with a genre they’d never tackled before: writing an original soap opera. Entirely on a whim, Martin took to Twitter to see if anyone happened to have a connection to the industry.

“I genuinely didn’t expect it to go anywhere, I didn’t even tag anyone. But an hour later I had half the cast of Days of Our Lives,” recalled Martin, whose disbelief still lingers. It was a plot twist even campers didn’t see coming. “California’s stay-home order was so uncertain, we never knew when everyone might go back to work. Even when we told writers and their parents the night before the performances, some of them didn’t believe us.”

Though daytime television isn’t an obvious obsession for middle school students, nearly every novel of young adult fiction is essentially a soap opera. And Days of Our Lives is set in the fictional Midwest city of Salem — folksy yet sophisticated, and never short on scandal, not unlike Columbus, Ohio. It’s a short stretch that only seems non sequitur.

“Everyone started with a blank page, but by the end of the week, Frankie and I had helped them create a complete screenplay. But the cast was still a shock,” Martin explained. “Kids admire anyone who has made a career out of doing something they love, and these actors and actresses were so enthusiastic, flexible, and generous. They were every bit as into it as the campers.”

It was actress Martha Madison who happened to see a retweet of Martin’s request and matter-of-factly replied, “Can I bring some friends?” She soon roped in more than a dozen of her costars, all equally eager to give a bunch of adolescent screenwriters the performance they deserved despite a pandemic.

“I’m a big believer in fate. It was an easy ask, everyone said yes,” revealed Madison, better known to many as Belle Black. Her character’s parents John and Marlena have been synonymous with Days of Our Lives for decades. “There was so much character development, and they all had love and murder in the plot. They were real soap operas.”

Like many nonprofits struggling to adapt, the shift to online programming has actually expanded the reach of Thurber House. Much like parents working remotely, kids from across Ohio, and from New York to California, also received insightful lessons in craft and collaboration from screenwriter Amanda Beall, whose credits include The Young and the Restless, All My Children, and General Hospital.

“If you’re a creative person, none of that goes away just because you’re stuck at home. You can still share your experience with anyone anywhere,” Madison noted. “I was very impressed with the writing. I’d love to work again with any one of these kids someday.” ▩

For more on Thurber House and upcoming events and programs, visit thurberhouse.org

May 1, 2020

Sgt. Peppercorn’s Pandemic Marathon

Originally published in the May 2020 issue of (614) Magazine

Musicians have been hit hard lately. Concerts are cancelled, auditoriums are empty, and curtains are closed indefinitely. But never tell Joe Peppercorn anything is impossible.

A decade ago, Peppercorn performed every Beatles song in chronological order — all 215 of them. It was a one-man show to top every one-man show before or since, one that’s become part of Columbus folklore and evolved into an annual event bringing together countless musicians and supporting artists. When we needed it most, Joe decided to repeat that first unlikely feat — simple, stripped down, and shared with the world from his living room.

“It was a lot like that first year. I thought I’d have a chance to prep the show a little more, but I was also figuring out how to livestream for the first time,” recalled Peppercorn. “I didn’t feel like anything completely went off the rails. I kind of thrive on chaos.”

Joe moved instinctively between guitar and piano, constructing drum loops on the fly, like Ringo Starr meets Reggie Watts. Fellow musicians joined in remotely by iPad, and several spontaneously showed up in his front yard, adding vocals and absent instruments from a microphone dropped out an open window. The visibly exhausted Peppercorn really did get by with a little help from his friends—and his three kids, who also helped close out the 12-hour marathon.

“I thought they’d be asleep, but they love Across the Universe and Golden Slumbers,” he noted. “It wasn’t planned. It was this beautiful moment that just happened.”

Fortunately, those who missed it can still find it on Facebook, a fitting soundtrack for social distancing and uncertain times. ▩

April 1, 2020

Dr. Amy Acton Determined, Not Afraid

Originally published in the April 2020 issue of (614) Magazine

The announcement was shocking, even to the pool of hardened reporters gathered in anxious anticipation. On March 12, Ohio Governor Mike DeWine ordered the closure of all schools in the state for at least three weeks to hopefully halt the spread of the novel coronavirus, also known as COVID-19.

With only a handful of confirmed cases, based largely on statistical models and patterns emerging from cities and countries around the world, Ohio was among the first to signal, almost prophetically, that life as we all knew it was about to change dramatically, perhaps forever.  

Then skepticism suddenly turned to stunned silence as Ohio Department of Health Director Dr. Amy Acton stepped forward to reveal the possibility that more than 100,000 Ohioans were already carrying the virus.  

But this dire presumption wasn’t delivered with cold calculation by a career bureaucrat who dithers or withers in front of the cameras. Instead, Dr. Amy Acton did something remarkable, in real time. In her signature white coat and without a whiff of wonk, she calmly and confidently broke down the math behind the decision and the prediction, at one point comparing the delay in reliable data to the light of a distant star whose brightness we can only see long after the moment has passed.  

And with that, Ohioans discovered the light of a different kind of star, and her moment is now.  

Even before Acton was a household name, she was already an unlikely hero. A physician since 1994, she honed both her approachable bedside manner and public policy persona at Nationwide Children’s Hospital and as an assistant professor at Ohio State. During her brief tenure at The Columbus Foundation, Acton was instrumental in raising nearly $2.5 million in just six weeks to combat youth homelessness, blowing past every expectation. It was a philanthropic success that was also hauntingly personal.

  It isn’t without irony that as Ohio businesses close their doors, many for the last time, that Youngstown’s venerated daily newspaper, The Vindicator, published its final edition this past August with an intimate portrait of Acton. Then, she was still the local homecoming queen who had beaten the odds, gone on to college, ultimately becoming the top public health official in the state.  

The “grit and grace” we see today, so noted by Doug Kridler, President and CEO of The Columbus Foundation, was undeniably born of a chaotic, often tragic, childhood. Acton’s parents separated when she was just three, and in the decade that followed before reuniting with her father, she lived in a constant state of uncertainty. This included living in more than a dozen places in as many years across the country, some less desirable than others; she lived once in an unfinished basement, and even spent a winter in a tent. Only after abuse at the hands of one of her mother’s string of boyfriends did life for Acton finally start to turn around. Her father was granted full custody, and she’s never seen her mother again.

But even this backstory only surfaced in retrospect. The newspaper’s website also shut down a day after the final edition hit the streets. No likes, shares, or tweets. Only later were the archives posted online, with that closing interview receiving overdue attention in recent weeks, much like Acton herself.

“Lots of powerful souls walk among us,” noted Todd Franko, former Editor in Chief of The Vindicator. “Last August, she walked in and walked out of our office, and no one knew her. They know her now.”

Yet in darkness, there is still light, with dutiful denizens across the state tuning in daily for afternoon “Wine with DeWine”. But even that fierce following may pale in comparison to the more than 50,000 members of Acton’s entirely unofficial Facebook fan club. The conversation waxes and wanes from harrowing accounts to rays of revelry, from the testimonials of healthcare providers on the frontline of the crisis to heated debate about which actress should portray Acton in some future Hollywood feature. (For those keeping score, Allison Janney, Dana Delany, and Anne Hathaway are currently the top casting contenders.) Local apparel company Homage also honored her with a t-shirt emblazoned with the words, “Not all heroes wear capes.”

Even Acton herself is not above public levity amid unprecedented circumstances. A photo from a recent morning meeting in the lower level of the statehouse went viral, with staffers seemingly orbiting a laughing Acton from a safe social distance. It was a rare and candid glimpse of the loyalty she fosters among the small army she inspires, no longer in anonymity.

Her candor coupled with compassion is at the heart of her appeal. The mother of six, one of whom offers her his own daily briefings on her online following from his home in Menlo Park, has been called “Ohio’s Mom” for the tough love that belies every escalating restriction that unfolds aimed at minimizing the worst case scenarios.

It’s the same honesty tempered with hope that won DeWine over barely a year ago. Acton neither sought nor expected to become the governor’s final, perhaps his most crucial, cabinet selection. In discussing the role with him, she offered an unvarnished, apolitical assessment of Ohio’s challenges and opportunities to improve public health, and prepare for unforeseen threats to it. Thankfully, he hired her anyway.

The hasty cancellation of in-person voting the day before the state’s primary and extension of absentee voting by mail was deemed politically untenable, until it wasn’t. After what was expected to be an uncontested delay erupted into a last-minute legal reversal, Acton’s authority to protect citizens in the midst of a public health emergency found precedent in an obscure provision of the Ohio Revised Code from 1886 in response to an outbreak of tuberculosis.

Now, Ohio leads the nation in its response, with fellow states following suit, though not without criticism. The impact on businesses directly and indirectly is as controversial as it is unavoidable. DeWine is charged with an impossible task, desperately trying to land a plane safely, despite the fact that it’s coming apart in the air. There will be casualties, actual and economic. But reducing the former requires increasing the latter. Acton is not only his copilot, but is additionally charged with assuring passengers that they are doing everything they can just to survive.

This is why we need Acton right now; she’s a guiding star in what often seems like an endless night. When human nature and history tend to suggest turning on each other, she’s quick to remind us that we’re all in this together. She’s the hero we didn’t know was in our midst, the same powerful soul who walked up to a podium and into our lives barely a month ago practically unknown, but who is now a part of our daily routine. When all of this is behind us, we’re going to look back on how we have changed. And when that day comes, we will surely have Acton to thank for telling us exactly what we needed to hear, when we needed to hear it, just to get through another day. We should all be forever grateful for her words.

“I don’t want you to be afraid. I’m not afraid. I am determined,” Acton famously confessed. “All of us are going to have to sacrifice. And I know someday, we’ll be looking back and wondering what was it we did in this moment.” ▩

March 15, 2020

Family Ties

Originally published in the Spring 2020 issue of Stock & Barrel

In 1929, the iconic, art deco skyscraper we now know as LeVeque Tower was more than just a monument of modern engineering. It was a landmark visible up to 20 miles away in the early days of passenger aviation, and why Transcontinental Air Transport chose Columbus as its new Midwest crossroads. Promising travel from New York to Los Angeles in 48 hours through a network of trains and planes, aircraft emblazoned with the “TAT” logo flew low over “Flytown”, a working class community of immigrants who figuratively and literally lived in the shadow of the latest, lavish addition to the city skyline.

Italian, Greek, and Lebanese neighbors mingled among the Irish who preceded them, as well as African Americans fleeing the Deep South. Though the community is all but forgotten, ultimately leveled by urban planners in the name of progress, a different kind of monument remains — because this was also the year that Pete and Philomena Corrova opened TAT Ristorante Di Famiglia. Long since relocated to the corner of James and Livingston where Bexley and Whitehall meet, it’s still thriving nearly a century later.

“My father saw the planes overhead with TAT on the side, so that’s what he decided to name his restaurant. About ten years ago I started telling everybody it means ‘Take Any Table’,” said Jimmy Corrova, whose parents’ original restaurant has become part of local culinary folklore. “My father was the first to bring pizza to Columbus. In the old country, you’d take leftover dough, stretch it, squeeze a little tomato on it, add some basil, maybe anchovy, and that was it. Now, you can put anything on a pizza.”

Family restaurants rarely fail so much as fade away. Not so with the Corrovas. Jimmy, his wife Dolores, their children and grandchildren are all part of the TAT legacy. Jimmy still insists on seasoning the sauces himself, and Dolores arrives hours before the doors open every day. Daughters Marianne and Michelle run the front and back of the house, respectively. They know their regulars by name, and often their orders before they’re seated. It’s a passion and consistency that can’t be bought, only handed down from one generation to the next.

The Corrova influence spread throughout Central Ohio, from the former Antone’s in Worthington to Gatto’s in Clintonville, both started by extended family members. Even the Florentine in Franklinton was started by cousins. Jimmy revealed he nearly bought the business back in 2016 when it closed, lamenting the loss of the west side landmark.

“I’ll never knock another restaurant. Everyone has their own tastes, but we prefer to do things the way we always have,” Jimmy explained. “All of our ravioli and spaghetti are homemade. We still seal the edges with a fork and cut our own spaghetti. We roll every meatball by hand.”

The menu is exhaustive and inclusive, and far more than just the classics. From piccata to polenta, salmon to scallops, there are even two kinds of lasagna. The first is exactly what you would expect—expertly executed. But there’s also a “special lasagna” with a recipe modified due to rationing during WWII that proved so popular, they never stopped serving it. The only thing you’ll find that hasn’t been on the menu since before fenders had flares are several gluten-free options, evidence that TAT isn’t opposed to change, but hasn’t lost touch with why it’s still around either. Perhaps the only other item that may seem out of place is their famous “poor boy”. If you want the story behind the signature sandwich, no one tells it better than the Sicilian who invented it, and even has the trademark to prove it.

“When I was in high school, there were a bunch of us Italians and a couple of Irish boys who all sat at the same table for lunch. But we got tired of the sloppy joes and hot dogs they served,” Jimmy recalled. “So Eddie Carfagna brought real deli meat from his family’s grocery, I brought the Italian bread, and we all made sandwiches. We were all poor, so we called it a “poor boy”. After I graduated, we added them to the menu and sold them for 50 cents. We’d sell them by the dozens. We had them on special for our 90th Anniversary last year and sold 2,000 in a weekend.”

Not to be confused with its creole cousin the po’ boy, of which he was unaware at the time, Jimmy had the foresight to trademark the name “poor boy” and its constituent ingredients. They’re still a big seller, and were among the earliest foray into TAT’s brisk takeout business. But success breeds imitators, including a guy who soon started shipping frozen sandwiches made from cheaper cuts of meat to local grocery chains under the same name. Jimmy sent him a cease and desist, and ultimately sued him for $100k.

“Word got out about the lawsuit, and I was at Romeo Siri’s in Grandview when I was asked outside and told to drop the case because it had been fixed,” Jimmy laughed. “I sued him anyway and I won.” The judge awarded Jimmy $96,000, but it took him six years to collect — not counting his own payoffs to “fix” the case previously fixed against him. “I only ended up with $10k. But that’s more than I had, and it’s still my sandwich.”

Everything about TAT is authentic and on-brand. A step inside is a step back in time, from the service to the soundtrack. Loyal staff measure their tenure in decades, and songs from the ‘50s fill the family-style dining room that echoes a bygone era. Jimmy dresses the part of dapper don as though casual Friday was a conspiracy — and if he shakes your hand once, he’ll likely remember your face for the rest of his days.

The family quips they may need to open a drive-thru, noting a car’s recent close encounter with their men’s room wall. But they’re in no hurry to change anything, and that’s probably what customers appreciate most. Their salad dressings are so beloved, they don’t just sell them by the bottle, but ship them all over the country. One faithful patron was so concerned about missing her favorite meals while out of town for several weeks, TAT actually prepared her regular order in advance and froze enough so she could take them with her. When she passed away, they dedicated the booth where she sat and hung her picture next to it. Customers eventually become part of the Corrova family.

There may be no more fitting metaphor for TAT’s longevity than the giant, commercial mixer they still in use in the back of the kitchen. Jimmy bought it second hand for $50 from a local bakery decades ago, but it turned out to be so heavy he needed a tow truck to move it. Then the owner didn’t have the heart to charge him for it, so he ended up getting it free. They’re still using today, but Jimmy honestly didn’t know how old it really was until our interview. Upon closer inspection, we found a weathered brass plaque that read, “Century Machine Company, Cincinnati, Ohio, August 22, 1922”.

The irony did not escape Jimmy Corrova. “If you build it right, it will probably last forever.” ▩

TAT Ristorante Di Famiglia is located at 1210 S James Road. For more on their menu and history, visit tatitalianrestaurantcolumbus.com

October 1, 2019

Gluten-Free Goodness

Originally published in the October 2019 issue of (614) Magazine

Stacie Skinner doesn’t look like a superhero, but to parents whose kids have food allergies, she’s only missing a mask and a cape. With a secret identity as astute as Bruce Banner and mild-mannered as Peter Parker, her background in retail planning and food industry R&D revealed a hidden superpower.

No one was making really good gluten-free waffles. (Well, she was, but no one knew it yet.)

“I wanted to have my own business, and I knew it would be gluten-free, to accommodate some of the allergies that affected my family,” Skinner explained, whose own childhood memories of cooking with her mother in Lopaus Point, Maine inspired more than just the name of her company. “I thought local farmers markets would be a great place to try out my recipes. But when I started, it was mostly cookies and breads.”

Families with food allergies have to travel a little differently than those who don’t. You can’t just eat anywhere along the way. This writer also happens to have two kids who have issues with both wheat and milk. Before the proliferation of gluten-free and dairy-free options at the average grocery or restaurant, we had to bring all of our food with us. We didn’t simply pack for the weekend. We had to pack like we were going to the Moon.

Skinner’s breakfast staple epiphany similarly came during a family vacation, staying in a hotel room with a kitchen, as many food allergy families often do. Even if you plan to prepare most meals yourself, you can’t pack everything—particularly a waffle iron.

“I bought a box of frozen gluten-free waffles for my son to have while we were there. But when he made them, he held them up to the light and they were so thin, he could see through them,” she recalled. “Then when he ate one, he said they were “disgusting” and asked, ‘Why don’t you sell your waffles?’”

Every superhero has an origin, and it doesn’t have to be as dramatic as gamma rays or a radioactive spider. Skinner followed her son’s suggestion and decided to try selling her waffles at the farmers market, which for aspiring food entrepreneurs is often their first and most effective focus group.

“My other baked goods were selling well, but they weren’t as unique. There were plenty of gluten-free products on the market that were sweet, but not necessarily wholesome,” she noted. “So I decided to let everything else go to focus exclusively on the waffles.”

Ketchup wasn’t Henry Heinz’s first foray into condiments either. His humble start was actually selling horseradish. But something simple and sweet soon proved more popular and profitable.

“I knew the waffles would be a meal component, and hopefully a snack. I felt like they needed to be made with better ingredients that were nutrient dense,” Skinner revealed. “A lot of gluten-free products are simple starches, sugar, and something to bind them together. I wanted these to be more.”

Soon Banana Flax led to additional flavors, like Wild Blueberry, Chocolate Chip, and yes, Pumpkin Spice. A vegan version is among the most frequent requests, and already in the works. Free from most major allergens, raving fans and demand quickly grew beyond just gluten-free customers and local groceries.

“Retailers are used to products that have a crazy shelf life—like two years for some frozen foods. I don’t understand why anyone would have six delicious waffles in their freezer for two years,” she chided. “It’s why partnerships became essential, and I was lucky to have a supportive, local community of fellow makers to guide me.”

That’s when the collaborative culture that binds Columbus became baked into Lopaus Point. Instead of the cutthroat culture common between competitors in most cities, Skinner actually found mentorship among established gluten-free businesses, offering advice and insights on how to grow smarter, not faster. Bake Me Happy, which has their own gluten-free bakery, even sells her waffles. How’s that for an endorsement?

“Just because you’re avoiding an allergen, it doesn’t mean there’s a compromise in your tastes,” she explained. “We think this is the product people deserve, and small makers help create these new markets and can often right the wrongs of big companies whose early attempts fall short.”

Starting a specialty food company in Columbus also happened to be its own happy accident. Skinner’s earlier career brought her from Boston. But after meeting her future husband here and time spent away from Central Ohio, it wasn’t our test market credibility that convinced them to return. It just felt like home.

“Our kids were getting old enough and almost ready to start school, so we moved back to Columbus. It was the only place we both had in common, even though we had no family ties here,” she recalled. “We loved it so much and knew it was where we wanted to raise a family.”

Still very much a local brand, Lopaus Point recently launched a mail-order option for folks beyond the Midwest and East Coast reach of their grocery distribution. Skinner discovered many of her customers not only order for themselves, but as gifts—for someone who may have just been diagnosed with an allergy to college students who still struggle with dining hall fare. There’s even a subscription program. Automatically getting a big box of waffles in the mail every month might be the best thing since Netflix.

Staffing also sets Lopaus Point apart. Their first kitchen was a shared space that worked with Franklin County to provide opportunities for adults with developmental disabilities that too often limit employment options. Now nearly a quarter of her staff have similar challenges, working in roles from preparation to packaging. It was the final ingredient Skinner realized she was missing.

“I knew my company had to be bigger than just a product, and our special needs staff are an integral part of our entire operation,” she explained. “We’re not just serving customers whose dietary needs are often overlooked. It’s also about providing opportunities for people in our community whose potential is overlooked as well. At Lopaus Point, we want everyone to feel included.” ▩

Lopaus Point waffles are available at retailers throughout Central Ohio. For locations and online orders nationwide, visit lopauspoint.com

August 1, 2019

Still the Shazzbots

Originally published in the August 2019 issue of (614) Magazine

Kids music tends to get a bad wrap for good reason. From the Wiggles to Barney, inane to annoying, somewhere along the way, “kids” and “music” became decoupled, as though children don’t deserve sincere songwriting, and education and entertainment also became mutually exclusive.

That’s why parents are over the Moon for the Shazzbots, the credible Columbus kids band that might just save the universe from one more infernal refrain of “Fruit Salad” or a hyperkinetic purple dinosaur professing his creepy affection. Founded by Ian Hummel more than a decade ago, live shows eventually evolved into an Emmy-winning television pilot, funded entirely by loyal fans. Their latest album, LIGHTSPEED!, is their long-awaited third release and an apt metaphor for their change in trajectory, marked by a growing international audience.

“When we first started, it was just songs. But I didn’t want it to just be me. I wanted it to be more, something along the lines of Sesame Street, with characters and a backstory behind the songs,” recalled Hummel, whose nautical alter ego Captain Captain travels the galaxy with an acoustic guitar and an archetypical band of misfits in a heavily-modified Winnebago. “We weren’t even sure what form the band would take. For a while, there was no drummer, only percussion. For a hot minute, there was even an accordion.”

Hummel recruited friend and bass player Mike “Navigator Scopes” Heslop to help craft the band’s elaborate backstory, with characters whose talents matched those of their real-life counterparts. Josh Tully, better know to kids as Professor Swiss Vanderburton, moved back to electric guitar when Steve Frye, aka Watts Watson, settled in behind the skins. That initial lineup has remained unchanged, but there have been three female members of the crew. Amber Allen as Debora Nebula, Molly Winters as Aurora Borealis, and Diane Hummel as Luna Stardust, who rounds out percussion and also happens to be married to a certain space captain.

“It’s important to have female role models, and you can see from the stage how little girls connect with Luna Stardust,” noted Hummel. “Her costume is still girly, but you can tell she’s a member of the crew. There’s a team dynamic you see in cartoons like Voltron and Thundercats I knew I wanted in the Shazzbots.”

Though the age of their audience has stayed the same, expectations for the entire music industry changed course. Social media was barely a blip when the band began, and streaming services were almost nonexistent. Now they’re essential. But this too is where the Shazzbots shine, a retro band ready for a new frontier.

“After filming the television show and getting it on Amazon, we kind of hit a wall deciding what was next,” he admitted. “So we spent nearly a year creating content for YouTube, something new every week. Kids still listen to songs in the car, but they also watch music videos on their iPads. You have to be available everywhere they are.”

Another giant leap into this new era for the band required rethinking the brand. Matthew Hubbard, one of the filmmakers behind the TV pilot, helped tap into the emerging “kindie” industry, clever slang for independent music catering to kids. Unlike commodity kids bands created to make a quick buck, so-called kindie artists are steeped in the sincere songwriting tradition that predates the digital age. They Might Be Giants and Dan Zanes are more contemporary ambassadors for children’s music with a message, but even Johnny Cash and Woody Guthrie released kids album every bit as sophisticated as their more famous fare.

“Embracing the kindie label, as well as working through a distributor and with a PR person who understand that audience, has really opened doors,” Hubbard explained. “We’re now available on Sirius XM Kids Place Live and Shazzbots albums are in more than 600 libraries nationwide. There are also all of the major streaming services, Spotify, Amazon, and Apple as well helping to reach a global audience.”

The irony of the Shazzbots now broadcasting songs via satellite hasn’t escaped the band. It’s probably impossible to be more on brand. But that doesn’t diminish the analog roots and inspiration behind LIGHTSPEED!, available on CD, digital, and as an actual vinyl record with an intricately illustrated gatefold cover featuring a cross-section of the ship created by artist Joel Jackson, whom many may recognize as the ominous pirate from the television pilot’s cliffhanger ending.

“These new streaming options and the release of the new album have given us more reach and more information than we’ve ever had before,” Hubbard noted. “We know how many people are watching the TV show, which is really starting to take off in the UK. We can see which songs are doing well in Australia, a market that is also growing due to songs getting play on the inflight kids entertainment service on Quantas airlines. We use these insights to decide which song should be next for a music video, or maybe shouldn’t, at least not right now.”

“Having all of this data can be overwhelming, and you can overthink it. It can reinforce your instincts as a musician, but you also have to be careful not to let it affect you too much as an artist,” Hummel explained. “These are great tools to have, but you can’t let them keep you from pushing boundaries by trying to find a formula for success. Sometimes those simple little songs will surprise you.”

Plenty of musicians have been there before, watching an outtake or alternate track that barely made an album resonate unexpectedly, despite prevailing opinion. It’s also why live shows remain the best market research for the Shazzbots, even now that some of their earliest fans are old enough to be in college. Requests from the audience, often songs that may not have the obvious hallmarks of a hit single, still spark something unexpected. It’s evidence that those obscure deep cuts have sticking power too, feedback a synthetic studio-only kids band just wouldn’t understand.

“I was playing at Big Fun last weekend, and a dad and his two daughters were there. The youngest daughter was wearing one of our t-shirts she’d gotten as a hand-me-down from her sister who is now a teenager,” Hummel revealed. “The older daughter still knew all of the songs. It’s something they shared. She grew out of the shirt, but not the Shazzbots.” ▩

For more on the Shazzbots, LIGHTSPEED!, and upcoming live shows, visit theshazzbots.com

April 1, 2019

Cutting Edge

Originally published in the April 2019 issue of (614) Magazine

Julia Richey has a persuasive presence, even without a sword.

Since immigrating to the U.S. two decades ago, she’s managed to parlay her passion for fencing into an ever-widening community of athletes and enthusiasts well beyond Central Ohio. A member of the Russian National Team since her teens, Richey’s credibility may only be matched by her charm. Point of fact, her continued requests for more stage time at the Arnold Fitness Expo ultimately led to the construction of her own stage. (It probably didn’t hurt that Schwarzenegger himself is a huge fan of both fencing and its unapologetic ambassador.)

“My goal is to make fencing more popular in Columbus than football,” she quipped.

Then again, maybe she wasn’t kidding. Despite the long odds of success for anyone starting a small business from scratch, Royal Arts Fencing Academy has adapted and expanded to encompass a rich range of edged weapons and combat styles — most notably HEMA, the less cumbersome acronym for Historical European Martial Arts.

“The HEMA groups are like we were 20 years ago, practicing in yoga rooms and parks. Fencing clubs are a natural fit because we have our own space,” revealed Tim Mills, fencing coach and Richey’s business and creative counterpart.

From Lord of the Rings to Game of Thrones, medieval fantasy meets real metal with HEMA. Despite the persistent stigma of ‘nerds with swords’, the mix of fight choreography and full-contact combat surely burns more calories than another boring trip to the gym.

“Someone who starts here with a longsword may also decide to pick up a rapier. There’s a lot of crossover and common skills — distance, timing, angle, and leverage,” explained Frank Zamary, head HEMA instructor. “If you have those basic components, you can fight with any sword.”

Not that there’s a shortage of “nerdoms”, Zamary coyly confessed. And Mills was quick to note the social overlap between evenings spent playing Dungeons & Dragons and wielding actual weapons was quite high at Royal Arts.

“It’s a very nerdy place,” Richey confirmed. “This is the only time you’ll hear parents tell their kids to put down that book and go workout.”

Competitive and recreational fencing haven’t been immune to the increasing fears of parents when it comes to sports, as seen by dramatic declines in youth football in particular. Add to that the common perception of swordplay, and you’d think fencing would be an even tougher sell.

Fortunately, Richey and Mills are adept at emphasizing the unique benefits of fencing while allaying such concerns. Much like other martial arts, the precision and discipline required often help students find the focus and attention to detail necessary for academic success as well.

“That’s the hardest part, overcoming the idea that fencing is more dangerous than other sports when it’s actually safer than most,” Mills noted. “We do a lot of public exhibitions, for parents as much as the kids. If I can put a sword in your hand, you’ll get hooked.”

But summer camps and workshops aren’t just for kids. The schedule offers adult classes ranging from lightsabers to bartitsu — a combination of kickboxing, cane fighting, and improvised combat popularized by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle that’s seen a recent revival. Last June, Benedict Cumberbatch famously fought off four muggers single-handedly with skills he acquired during his stint as the BBC’s Sherlock Holmes.

“Someone gave me a Groupon as a gift for the lightsaber class, and I just kept coming,” admitted Shaun Reed, who now teaches the class. “Tim asked me to help work on choreography for the Arnold a few years ago. I’ve been here ever since.”

There is definitely an action hero allure all around, and the Arnold Fitness Expo is inextricably at the center. Folks around Royal Arts actually measure their tenure by “how many Arnolds” they’ve done, going so far as declaring “Arnold Eve” and “Arnold New Year” unofficial holidays marking the culmination of one event and immediately planning for the next.

“Last year we did rapier. We’ve done lightsaber and longsword; we used to just do sport fencing. This year, we’re doing shashka for the first time,” Mills explained. “There’s no guard, so it’s a lot like a lightsaber in the way that it moves.”

Even for those unfamiliar with the proper name of the Russian military saber, the fluid fighting style is surprisingly reminiscent of a galaxy far, far away. The lack of a guard, the typical separation between the blade and the handle, allows the saber to be spun with astounding speed.

“Shashka has been a traditional saber since the Czars. Cossacks used it as their primary weapon,” explained Richey. Both she and Mills will demonstrate the saber’s signature “flankirovka”, or spinning blades, in full Cossack attire. Workshops are forthcoming. “It’s a complete upper body workout, especially the arms and shoulders.”

The wider array of options at Royal Arts doesn’t diminish fencing as its most popular offering. Much like the Arnold Sports Festival, it’s a recognition of the cultural shift away from simply training for athletes to activities to improve fitness and focus for anyone.

“Olympic fencing has more personality than people think. You can’t be too aggressive or too shy,” Richey revealed. “Fencing is a sport that combines the mind and body. It teaches you not to think too far ahead and to recover quickly. It’s all about finding balance.” ▩

For more details on upcoming classes and workshops, visit royalarts.org