Category: Inspiration (page 2 of 7)

June 1, 2020

Special Delivery

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

It isn’t easy to outhustle Amazon. The point-and-click purveyor of everything certainly hasn’t been hurt by the current pandemic. It may be the only business immune to it.

Meanwhile, small shops struggle to survive until they can reopen their doors. For many, the shift to direct delivery was born of necessity. With taprooms closed, local breweries were among the first to offer to-you-door service. But they aren’t the only ones rapidly reinventing the way they reach customers outside their retail space.

Spoonful Records | spoonful-records.myshopify.com

The beloved local record shop never needed a robust internet presence, pushing off the prospect of online expansion for years. They assured patrons the reason their selection was so exhaustive was because you had to come into the store to shop. Unlike digital downloads, records aren’t really commodities. Condition matters and trusted curators who inspect and clean each album by hand are even more rare than some of their elusive inventory.

“We stayed open by appointment for about a week, while I worked on the website, which was finished the same day the governor shut everything down,” explained Amy Kesting, who owns and operates the bustling album emporium with her husband Brett Ruland. “I think there were only 20 items, but every day we add a few more things. Our customers know they can have the same confidence buying from us, even online.”

Kesting isn’t an amateur when it comes to the logistical challenges of online sales. Though Ruland focuses on trends and follows new vinyl releases, Kesting concentrates on collections, acquiring the balance of classic and obscure albums that define Spoonful Records. A dot-com era stint processing artwork damaged during shipping also gave her more than a little apprehension about the prospects of making such fragile merchandise mail-order only.

“From the get-go we had to figure out the right shipping price. A box cost $1.50—a good box, not the single-fold ones—and most media mail is like $3.50 to $4.50. So we’re charging $5.85 for shipping, and if it was close by, we just started delivering them ourselves,” she explained. “I was like, I can drop this off in Bexley, or go to Upper Arlington today. No problem.”

Local deliveries started by bicycle, but soon moved to excursions outside 270. They hired a driver to ensure same day deliveries when possible, but they still make extended record road trips themselves.

“We let everyone know on Facebook when we’ll be in their area, and they can just add to the order. One day, we went to Marysville, Delaware, and Powell and made a huge trip of it, like 15 deliveries,” Kesting recalled. “It rained the whole time, but was totally worthwhile. It was kind of like couples time, listening to music together along the way.”

Early enthusiasm has helped offset uncertainties about the future, particularly Record Store Day, the industry’s most notable annual event, already delayed twice. The retail closure has also afforded the opportunity to sort through a couple of recently acquired collections, not that Spoonful Records isn’t busy.

“We try to be humble and realistic, but April was our best month in at least the last two or three years that wasn’t a Record Store Day month or holiday sales month,” she noted. “We actually did more in sales through the website than we do normally in our brick and mortar. We’re so grateful everyone has been willing to support us through this, we wish we did it sooner.

Roll Bicycle Company | rollbicycles.com

Launching a new location in the midst of a crisis may seem risky, but Roll is hardly a traditional retailer, offering the expertise absent from typical online sales experiences. With three Central Ohio locations and a fourth already scheduled to open, shifting gears was essential to meeting the needs of customers in an entirely new way through curbside service and at-home pickup and delivery.

“We made the decision right from the outset to close our showrooms to the public out of an abundance of caution for the safety of our team and the community. It was a values-based decision for us,” revealed Stuart Hunter, founder and CEO of Roll Bicycle Company. “But that allowed us to quickly move to determining how to continue to best serve our team and our community while preserving our business.”

The closure of gyms coupled with the inherent social distancing of outdoor activities actually increased interest in cycling for fitness and riding for recreation. It was a surge that came the right time for Roll, which was already preparing for the beginning of their busy season.

“At the time, no one anticipated a boom of people wanting to get outside and exercise. People were still reeling from the implications of what was happening and there was a lot of concern about whether we’d actually have a business coming out of the other end of this,” he confessed. “So we launched a brand new web platform within a space of four days from start to finish where we took our entire inventory online.”

There was never a debate about whether bike shops were considered essential. Much like auto mechanics, selling and servicing bikes was a business that helped maintain transportation. But meeting customers at the door instead of inside and creating a pickup and delivery service from scratch were all unfamiliar terrain.

“Another challenge that was unanticipated was just how much strain the change would take on our team, just the speed of adapting so quickly. Everyone was working really hard, but we were also burning out really fast,” Hunter recalled. “So we decided to close our stores briefly and give everyone a paid break to just go home, ride a bike, and take a pause before we came back.”

Roll’s new Dublin store opened alongside existing locations in Bexley, Westerville, and Upper Arlington, but with new safety standards still in place. Though shortages have hit many retailers, regardless of industry, Roll’s evolution three years ago as a manufacturer of their own branded bicycles also helped smooth out supply chain disruptions of their signature product line.

“Like any small business, there was an incredible amount of anxiety about our ability to survive. I was wondering whether the past 15 years of my life were coming to a close. We are fortunate enough to be in a category that has high demand,” he noted. “But we fully recognize not all of our peers in the entrepreneurial community are in the same situation. I look around and see great people having a hard time right now, and I’ve been really pleased to see how the community has rallied around local businesses we hope will return and thrive again soon.” ▩

June 1, 2020

Valter’s at The Maennerchor

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

Brunch has always been as much about the atmosphere as the meal itself. It’s an excuse to gather, indulgent by design. Even the most intentional takeout and delivery can’t duplicate the experience, and restaurants that consider it among their specialties seem even more empty than their vacant dining rooms suggest.

But the rush to return to some state of normalcy generated unintended controversy for Valter’s at the Maennerchor. The once bustling brunch spot and anytime standard bearer for Central European cuisine waded into treacherous waters when they announced intentions to reopen in early May for limited dining. Outspoken support was as fierce as online criticism, and the adage that there’s no such thing as bad publicity may never have been more wrong.

“Speculation at the time was that the governor might reopen restaurants on May 1, and we were ready to do so safely,” explained Valter Veliu. “When that turned out not to be so, I made some strong statements about the lack of certainty and the struggle shared by all restaurants.”

Veliu immigrated from Albania in 2005 drawn by the promise and opportunity he hoped to find over the horizon. Restaurants are often the first stop for new Americans, an industry built both on the talent and toil of the millions of immigrants it employs. But it’s also a classroom for learning a new language and culture, nuances that are all too easily missed in moments of crisis.

“What began as just a job became a passion. But my intentions aren’t and never have been political. I just try to help good people willing to help our community move forward,” he explained. “I soon recognized that even with the additional measures we planned to protect customers and staff, reopening too soon was not a risk worth taking, and I respect that.”

Frequent Facebook posts from the always animated Veliu have replaced the candid conversations his customers miss most. But between frustration and translation, his comments and context soon became decoupled, and declarations to reopen came across to many as defiance instead of desperation.

“In 2016, I was finally able to open my own restaurant with a lot of help from friends, and of course loans. My plan to pay off those loans was on track until the governor issued the order to shut everything down, including restaurants,” Veliu noted. “To be honest, I was a little concerned, but at the same time, it felt reasonable to quarantine to keep everyone safe.

Catering orders from essential employers have helped, as has some rent relief from his landlord. But like his fraternity of fellow restaurateurs, Veliu inevitably found his business sinking deeper into debt with no end in sight, and that same spirit of persistence soon boiled over, capturing the public’s attention, admiration, and ire. His Facebook page was soon flooded with sympathy, skepticism, and even a few threats—and an online apology didn’t seem to quell the controversy.

“My proposal to open the restaurant was with limited tables and patio dining, which is exactly how we opened as soon as we were allowed to do so safely,” he explained. “I’ve been involved in fundraisers supporting the efforts of community leaders who share my passion for helping people. I will always be thankful and appreciative for what this country has given me, and I’ve never taken it for granted.”

Valter Veliu’s success isn’t singular. It’s exactly the sort of story Columbus celebrates, one that illustrates the immigrant experience as one of triumph more than hardship. But the reality is that it’s rarely so simple. For every ethnic eatery that ekes out a faithful following, there’s a food truck one slow week away from folding up. The local restaurant scene still remains only slightly more supportive than it is unavoidably unforgiving.

Ironically, the same standards Veliu vowed to institute earlier match those required by the state to do so as safely as possible. He hopes this footnote fades and folks appreciate the uncertainty still facing restaurants, many of which may never return. Fortunately for Valter’s, loyalties aren’t so easily shaken and his first open weekend in months saw no shortage of returning clientele.

“We came a little earlier so there weren’t a ton of other people. But we put on our masks to walk in, and were escorted out to the patio where they seated guests at every other table,” recalled Mallery Grimm. She and her husband Darin live nearby and knew exactly where they would go for their first meal once restaurants reopened. “Valter came out with his mask on just to thank everyone for coming. I think we all were just excited to get out of the house and feel connected again.”

Takeout and delivery are still essential for restaurants to survive, and those with limited seating already are hit even harder. There’s also the expense of packaging, paper menus, and additional precautions that have kept some restaurants from reopening even though permitted for fear of losing more money than they take in. The entire industry is a long way from recovery, but brunch at Valter’s at the Maennerchor is still closer to normal than we were just weeks ago.

“My husband and I have been working from home since March and really haven’t seen that many people besides each other. Everyone was in good spirits just being out again,” she noted. “We had been doing takeout at least once or twice a week since this whole thing started to support our favorite restaurants, but it’s still not the same. There’s no substitute for a meal that comes out from the kitchen served in a hot skillet.” ▩

For more on Valter’s history, takeout and delivery options, and reservations, visit valtersatthemaennerchor.com

May 1, 2020

Fired Up Pizza

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

Pizza is probably our most pervasive comfort cuisine, and a predictable staple for those who already preferred to stay at home. With ample options available for take-out and delivery, why would anyone choose one from their freezer instead? Fired Up Pizza is the answer.

After successive stints as executive chef at two Cameron Mitchell restaurants, Michael Rice was ready to create something entirely different, but still from scratch. His mobile wood-fired pizza oven for catering can turn out 60 handmade pies an hour. But with corporate events and family gatherings on hold, his fledgling side hustle selling frozen pizzas is heating up.

“I think people are really surprised how well it comes out. I get that a lot and when we do samplings at farmers markets or wherever I’m selling them,” revealed Rice, who founded Fired Up Pizza in part to create a closer connection with his clientele. “It’s not like a restaurant kitchen. When you’re making a pizza right in front of someone, it becomes a conversation.”

Farmers markets led to local grocers, like The Hills, Huffman’s, and Weiland’s, and eventually Marc’s and select Giant Eagle locations. From classic Four Cheese and Margherita to Pesto Chicken and Roasted Mushroom, even the chewy crust with a little char still holds up. Variety varies at each store, but he’ll deliver whatever you want to your door for a modest minimum order.

“Independently-owned, local grocery stores are a lot easier to get into just because there aren’t as many layers. They’re very supportive,” he noted. “It’s a more gradual process with larger grocers, but probably a good thing that we weren’t everywhere all at once.”

Shrink-wrapped and oven-ready, at a price point between typical freezer fare and a freshmade pie, Fired Up Pizza hits the sweet spot. ▩

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. ▩

May 1, 2020

Social Distance Cinema

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

Though there is plenty of pain to go around, no industry has been more fundamentally disrupted than movie theaters, perhaps permanently. Exactly how bad is it? Studios have all but halted production and box office reporting has been suspended. Instead of celebrating their 100-year anniversary, AMC Theatres, the largest chain in the world, is hurtling toward bankruptcy.

No one wants to get into a contest of who has it worse, but when your entire business model is based on hundreds of strangers sitting elbow-to-elbow, there’s just no way to stay open when most of the country has been ordered to stay home.

But Columbus seems to find new ways everyday to get creative in a crisis, and our independent theater community is no exception. Though there is no shortage of content available from an ever-expanding arena of streaming services, watching a story unfold on an enormous screen as part of an audience is as absent as the aroma of fresh, buttered popcorn. Even though we may be a long way from anything approaching what once was, local theaters are finding innovative alternatives to stay connected to their loyal patrons, even if it sometimes feels like we’ve all been cast in a disaster movie.

“The virtual screening room isn’t new. We’ve been offering an on-demand channel as a way for people to see films they may have missed. Curating films supports our mission and also enhances our community,” explained Chris Hamel, president of the Gateway Film Center. “So when we were forced to suspend our normal programming, we just ramped up these opportunities and added our virtual screen.”

Independent theaters, specifically those that specialize in so-called arthouse features, have always been masters of improvisation without the deep budgets or blockbuster revenues of their mainstream counterparts. Now that notable nimbleness has become an appreciable asset. “Conversations from the Center” was another initiative that required rapid reinvention. The discussion of influential films and industry insights also moved online.

”I think we exceeded our expectations to some degree and we’ve got really great opportunities for the audience to engage moving forward,” Hamel revealed. “It doesn’t replace the cinema experience completely, but it is a nice way for us to continue to engage with our audience.”

For about the price of a typical ticket, you can buy a virtual one through their website, with a comparable percentage of proceeds going back to the theater. The process is a little different depending on the film and the distributor, but is very similar to renting a movie to stream at home with a limited viewing window. Selections aren’t exhaustive, but thoughtfully chosen as always. Features so far have included The Whistlers, a Romanian heist film with more than a hint of the Coen Brothers to the overdue backstory of the breakup of The Band, Once Were Brothers, a fitting bookend to Martin Scorcese’s The Last Waltz. If escape is more your speed, they’ve even offered a fascinating documentary on fungi and a critically-acclaimed collection of cat videos. There really is something for everyone.

“The indie film market was starting to pick back up. In January, we still had Parasite and 1917 and a lot of those films were still very strong and were able to carry through to the Oscars. Our virtual screenings are all films we would have shown anyway,” noted Jeremy Henthorn, theatre director at Drexel Theatre. “Our sci-fi marathon and series are postponed, not cancelled. If there is a bright side to all of this, presuming everyone is able to open by July or August, there will be a lot more options and choices to see later in the year. It’s always good to have something new for audiences.

While still considering virtual screenings, Studio 35 Cinema & Drafthouse recently launched their in-house kitchen, Fibonacci’s Pizzeria, and now serves craft pies, subs, and salads to-go. Both the Clintonville theater and their sister screen, Grandview Theater & Drafthouse, are filling growlers with your favorite craft beer, and will gladly pour some M&Ms over your tub of popcorn. Strand Theatre in Delaware is likewise offering drive-by concessions, virtual screenings, and their projectionist is even posting weekly film reviews and recommendations to keep patrons connected. The South Drive-In is selling discounted gift cards and may be among the first local theaters to reopen. After all, drive-ins are the original social distance cinema.

Motion pictures since their start have always been an art of collective experience. Though there are now a near infinite number of options available online and easy to stream, sitting on your couch still doesn’t replace the immersive intent, nor is that the expectation. But buying virtual tickets, a couple of tubs of popcorn, the occasional pizza or jug of beer, and a few gift cards will hopefully ensure your favorite Hollywood haunt is still around when we can once again gather in in the dark and become part of a shared story. ▩

For more on virtual screenings and other ways you can support your local theaters, please visit their websites and check social media, as details are subject to change.

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.” ▩

April 1, 2020

Restaurant Survival Guide

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

Just getting by is the new normal for the once bustling Columbus culinary scene. Some are still struggling to make it from one day to the next, while others have shuttered their establishments entirely for now, maybe forever. With the future as uncertain as the spread of the coronavirus that prompted such dramatic measures, a few creative solutions and lessons have emerged to help our favorite haunts weather the weeks, perhaps months ahead.

Ray Ray’s Hog Pit | rayrayshogpit.com

Locally known and nationally renowned, James Anderson’s beloved barbecue might be the best prescription for troubled times. With an already abbreviated menu of best sellers and rotating specials, brick and mortar counterparts would be wise to consider running their operations more like a food truck. Light, tight, and low frills—just like any legit pit.

Though the Land-Grant location is temporarily closed, Clintonville and Westerville remain open with added procedures to ensure patrons maintain minimal direct interaction, like a chain and new signage to make handoffs less hands-on and transactions less face-to-face.

“The taproom generates 90 percent of our business at Land-Grant. It was a no-brainer to close from the very beginning,” Anderson noted. “They close on Thanksgiving and Christmas, so we’ve always gone with their hours. We moved everyone up to the other two, which are going strong and surviving just fine.”

Suggesting cards over cash, changing gloves between any back and forth exchanges, and ensuring longtime customers know what to expect through social media have become standard practices for most businesses. But Ray Ray’s is still trying to keep the experience original and authentic, even as everyday interactions grow farther apart.

“We’ve started doing call-ahead ordering with no minimum, encouraging people to prepay, so there is less hand-to-hand contact,” he noted. “There’s also a 6-foot chain at the front of the line. You have to kind of reach for your order to get to the window. We’re protecting customers and employees that way.”

Operating limited days and limited hours have always been part of his business strategy, as is a more limited menu with only those items that always sell well making the cut. Staffing is also a factor facing restaurants that remain operational, often with more workers than they need or too few to make do.

“Right now, I have a full staff, so I’m going to have a full menu. I’ve already seen some competitors paring their menus down, which I think is a smart idea,” Anderson revealed. “But we’re giving all of our staff the option to work or not. If they don’t feel comfortable in this crisis, there’s no boss telling anyone they have to come to work.”

Stauf’s Coffee Roasters | staufs.com

The pioneer of coffee culture in Columbus continues to pull espresso shots, steam milk, and bag beans—albeit with some apparent accommodations. To-go and curbside pickup are now standard, with an expanded menu of commodities to hopefully help patrons procure provisions and simple staples without a separate trip to the grocery store.

Blurring the line between supply chains may sound like an obvious approach to address supermarket scarcity. But Mark Swanson, president of Stauf’s Coffee Roasters, knew launching an untested retail strategy amid upheaval in everyone’s daily coffeehouse ritual required rethinking nearly everything.

“We didn’t waste any time and started adjusting procedures more than a month ago. One of the things I love about our team is that they’re creative and flexible,” explained Swanson. “If anyone had an idea to improve what we were doing, we discussed it and implemented it immediately. Then we let our customers know why we were making changes to help keep everyone healthy.”

Offering milk, eggs, and bread for easy pickup, as well as meal kits, soups, salads, and such isn’t an end run around the grocery. It’s a stopgap solution, especially for items that may be tough to find for a while, like diary-free milk alternatives, perishables, and personal hygiene products that may seem incidental until they’re essential.

“We still have sandwiches, pastries, and cookies. We’ll start doing growlers of iced coffee as it gets warmer,” he noted. “What we’re trying to do is become a place where you can grab a couple meals and maybe six essential things without bumping into people at the grocery. It’s all about reducing risk by reducing exposure.”

Less conspicuous changes required delaying an expansion at the Cup O’ Joe in Clintonville and building up the small-scale side of their commercial coffee roasting business by offering free shipping on beans by the pound mailed directly to customers. They’ve even added a clever contraption in stores to fill bags of beans with less direct contact.

“Everyone at Stauf’s has worked in the service industry. We’ve all been baristas, servers, and delivery drivers. We’ve been out there on the frontlines,” Swanson noted. “Our changes come from a place of empathy. We know exactly what would have scared us. It’s why information and transparency are so important for our staff and our customers.”

King Gyros | kinggyros.com

Ethnic eateries thrive by offering entrées even accomplished cooks can’t replicate at home. But unlike the strip mall spots many select, this Mediterranean mainstay happens to have a drive-thru window, one that has become a life raft for the business and customers eager to remain connected through the current crisis.

Like many first-generation immigrants, Yianni Chalkias grew up working in his family’s restaurant. But when he started looking for the right place to open his own three decades ago, what we now call a “fast casual” concept, the former Taco Bell left little room for tables.
“My dad had a full-service restaurant. But when I was looking for someplace, I knew I wanted to have a drive-thru,” Chalkias recalled. “We’ve always offered the same quality and service with our drive-thru and takeout as we do with dine-in. Everything is beautiful when you open up the box. It’s the experience customers expect.”

An extensive remodel added an expansive dining room and patio that now sit empty. But building a robust takeout business and an exhaustive menu around shared ingredients helped increase selection and control costs, both smart strategies during tough times.

“People crave what they can’t make at home. Like our kabobs, char-grilled salmon, and calamari — or specials like our lamb shanks and Greek meatballs. But vegetarians love our falafel and pita with hummus or roasted eggplant,” he noted. “Sometimes people don’t believe we make like 20 different desserts in house. But we do. They may only go out once a week, so ordering dessert makes it more of a special occasion.”

Stepping up their social media presence has proven pivotal as well. Facebook posts and Instagram remind longtime patrons about hours and specials. Short videos also share the familiar faces of staff customers are used to seeing behind the counter, whom many admit they miss most of all.

“I started on Instagram as a way to get out of the kitchen, but it’s become a business tool. I do a lot of polls, just to see what people think about how we’re doing,” Chalkias revealed. “These are vulnerable times. So you have to be sure you maintain your connection to your customers. They’re our family too, and you always take care of family.” ▩

Please call ahead or check social media for current menus and hours of operations, as website information may not reflect recent changes.

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

February 1, 2020

Empowerbus Evolves

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

Aslyne Rodriguez is pitch perfect, though not necessarily in any sort of musical sense. Her passion for transportation innovation demands immediate attention in any room, and by the time she’s done making the case for bringing equity to employment through a tiny fleet of commuter buses, folks often find themselves singing the same tune.

But when she was handed the microphone at a gathering of stakeholders at Rev1 Ventures discussing the city’s ongoing efforts to increase economic inclusion, the set list suddenly changed. Instead of delivering her polished pitch on urban mobility to a capacity crowd, she was overcome by her own unlikely origin story. She reflected on her grandparents’ journey from Puerto Rico with only an elementary education, and welled up as she revealed her grandmother’s dream of opening a cake shop that never came to be. Raised near Youngstown, her parents both worked for the local school district—her mother a guidance counselor, her father a school bus mechanic. It was an early epiphany, realizing the parents of the kids who rode those same buses to school everyday often struggled to get to work themselves, that would become the inspiration and driving force behind EmpowerBus.

“That was a raw moment. Something came over me and I needed to tell that story,” confessed Rodriguez, founder of EmpowerBus. “There are communities with the desire to be entrepreneurs but they don’t have the pathway. Not everyone can do a friends and family round of fundraising for their startup. I’m only one generation removed from coming here with limited education and not knowing the language.”

What started with a single 25-passenger bus that shuttled employees from the Morse Road corridor to New Albany has in two years pivoted to a more nimble 14-passenger model with routes throughout Central Ohio, including the addition just last month of an autonomous shuttle service in the underserved neighborhood of Linden as part of the Smart Columbus initiative. It wasn’t a contract she pursued, but one that found her based on a reputation of earnest intentions in a community that can prove short on trust after decades of disappointment.

“We have been loved by the community in a way most companies aren’t. But we’re still very careful about how we use the term ‘social enterprise.’ People think, ‘Oh, you’re a nonprofit and you do good work.’ ‘No, we’re a for-profit business that wants to do good work,’” she explained. “In some circles of Columbus, social enterprises are still misunderstood. We want to grow our business, and take care of our people. It’s how we expand to serve more communities.”

Like most midsize cities, Columbus wasn’t created for cars, but evolved to rely on them almost exclusively. Half a century of urban flight only amplified our cultural dependency on single-occupancy vehicles. Recent years have seen an overdue disruption in transportation, from Uber and Lyft to scooters and self-driving vehicles. But depending on any of those to get to work, an internship, or a doctor’s appointment reliably is dicey at best and undeniably cost prohibitive. For those of more modest means, the transportation revolution is still leaving them behind, and the face of who is left out is changing.

“Everyday in America, 10,000 adults turn 65 years old. They all don’t need shared transportation, but they may be taking care of aging parents who do — and they could soon too, or may just want to opt-out of driving,” she explained. “They call it the ‘Silver Tsunami’. But people are also moving back into cities, they want walkability and maybe don’t want to have or need a car.”

The dynamics of demographics are changing all around. A relatively recent return to city centers has actually reduced the pool of potential employees for companies with warehouses beyond suburbia. Bus routes tend to cover the hours and destinations of those heading into downtown, not out of it. It’s a gap EmpowerBus closes, often cutting travel times by municipal buses in half with fewer stops, and with routes and a scope that have both expanded to bring employees in rural Licking county closer to Columbus, as well as transport employees from the Southeast side to destinations in Delaware.

“How do we get people to a job that helps them advance their lives? Workforce is still a central conversation for us,” Rodriguez noted. “Maybe they are working a job they can walk to that pays them $10 an hour, but maybe with transportation they can get to a job that pays $17 an hour with benefits and a 401k? That’s a big deal, it changes their lives.”

Mobility means more than just transportation, and Rodriguez is the first to admit her ambitions are audacious. Recent partnerships with Spectrum and Accenture will introduce an educational component to EmpowerBus during the ride with tablets as teaching tools. Second-chance employment for those exiting incarceration combined with low unemployment create a catalyst for hiring that wouldn’t happen without access to locations that are desperate for workers, but often in areas where they are in short supply.

“Smart Columbus prompted a broader conversation about workforce transportation. A lot of companies created ‘mobility ambassadors’ to discuss opportunities they wouldn’t have considered otherwise,” she revealed. “We’re also a logistics hub with a lot of manufacturing and distribution that happens here, and the market is tight. Employers are more open now to second-chance employment than they have been in the past. But how do those potential employees get to a job that allows them to restart?”

As with any startup, the future is where the rubber hits the road. Helping prospective employers identify “opportunity zones” based on their current workforce, or simply reducing the demand and cost for employee parking, illustrate the balance of creative and comprehensive solutions the company can offer — more than just in Columbus. Invitations to expand to cities elsewhere in Ohio, as well as surrounding states, show just how far and wide word has spread about EmpowerBus, its founder, and her dream. Aslyne Rodriguez moves people.

“The next step for EmpowerBus is to fulfill everything we set out to do and see what that looks like at scale. Our goal is to deliver upward mobility for all by providing dignified, reliable, on-time transportation to work, education, and healthcare,” she explained. “Expanding into another city and just scraping by isn’t a strategy. We’re a startup that has bootstrapped it so far, and we have to decide if we’re going to go big or grow incrementally. But for now, we’re investing in our people and processes, so when the time comes to scale up, we’ll be ready.” ▩

For more information on EmpowerBus, visit empowerbus.com

January 1, 2020

Growing Up Ezzo

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

Don’t believe those who deny Columbus is a city defined by its pizza as much as any other industry. Dating back nearly a century from off-the-menu offerings appealing exclusively to Italian immigrants to the avant garde ingredients that reimagine the familiar format, our pizza has always been more craft than commodity, and often a family affair that also dates back decades.

Ezzo isn’t the first name that comes to mind when you think of Columbus pizza, but it probably should be. What started in upstate New York four generations ago in a family grocery store that stuffed its own sausage has grown into perhaps the most pervasive and prolific premium pepperoni purveyor in the world, run entirely from the company’s recently expanded facility on the city’s far westside. Former Ohio State wide receiver Bill Ezzo grew the brand after the family business relocated to Columbus from Indiana in 1978, a legacy his sons Darren and Jon now share and enthusiastically embrace. Both are integral to daily operations, but Darren has slowly become the unapologetic ambassador for an unlikely empire.

“As kids, we were always driving with our dad to pizzerias. Tom Angeletti’s father was always around. He and our dad were tight so we would go to Ange’s or Capuano’s. We actually knew the people who became the namesakes of Columbus pizza,” recalled Darren. “I grew up a block away from Rubino’s. As soon as I was old enough to hang out with my friends, we used to walk from Bexley High School, pool our money, and buy a couple of pizzas and play pinball. That was a big part of my childhood.”

The rest of the country has finally started to figure out that Columbus pizza isn’t simply distinguished by the crust and the cut, but the toppings as well. As indelible as the blend of cheese or sauce recipes is the pepperoni. Not that flat nonsense the national chains sling on triangular slices. So-called “cup and char” pepperoni that curls up in the oven as the casing cooks to a crispy edge contrasting the savory center. It’s a difference old school mom and pop shops and a rising tide of craft pizzerias favor over cheaper options from multinational, processed food conglomerates.

“The reason our customers are so loyal is because we don’t compromise on ingredients. Every commodity pepperoni manufacturer uses pink slime to reduce cost and boost their lean protein because they use trimmings instead of muscle meat. We use shoulders and cheeks, that’s it,” he noted. “Our competitors have started to cut their pepperoni thicker trying to get it to cup like ours. But that just means our pepperoni offers better coverage, even if it costs a little more per case.”

Though Ezzo sells several varieties of pepperoni, and a spectacular sliced sausage, it’s their cup and char that remains their most beloved product, and an elusive one for home chefs hoping to up their game. Ezzo only sells to places that serve pizza, not retail customers. But their signature slices are so sought after, there’s actually a somewhat secret network of online outlets that somehow procure pepperoni by the case, then sell it by the pound—an unofficial pizza underground.

Pizza as most of us know it is largely an American invention with distinct regional differences. During an excursion to Italy, Darren unwittingly arrived in the tiny town of Terracina on a religious feast day. Without a taxi to be found to his destination, he ended up sharing a less familiar pizza at the train station with some locals—a simple focaccia with just a splash of sauce and a little shaved parm—a stark departure from a cracker-thin crust and toppings so thick they fall off the edge.

“There’s something in-between those two things that is the perfect pizza. I really think you should be able to see the sauce under the cheese, a balance of ingredients that doesn’t bury any one thing,” he opined. “It’s okay to experiment. If people didn’t, everyone’s pizza would be the same. It doesn’t matter where you are, or if you put pineapple or fresh cut flowers on it, so long as you make it your own.”

Darren isn’t a reluctant or reclusive ambassador, logging more time in the air than an astronaut and more miles in the past few years pitching prospects and converting clientele than a round trip to the Moon. Though he still prefers to drive to cities like Philadelphia, Chicago, Detroit, Nashville, and New York, lesser known pizza joints from Portland to Pakistan, Denver to Dubai, aren’t exactly accessible by car. Wherever he can’t reach easily by planes, trains, and automobiles, he relies heavily on the internet to help advance the brand.

“One of my ex-girlfriends works at Google. When I was wondering if I should start an Instagram, she said, ‘Why wouldn’t you? You’re out eating pizza anyway, you might as well document it.’ I didn’t think anyone would be interested in following a meat grinder,” he chided. “It turns out pizza tourism is a real thing, and every time I post a photo of someplace that uses our pepperoni, I get more followers and they get more customers.”

As with any premium producer of authentic foods, quality control is crucial. A recent recall of some Ezzo products—not unlike an occasional Jeni’s Ice Cream recall — is indicative of just how diligent those standards are. Darren revealed the affected products never left the production facility, and the expanded recall was entirely precautionary. In fact, Ezzo customers, and their customers as well, are so fiercely loyal to Ezzo, the biggest concern for most was how quickly they would receive more stock, including Tom Angeletti of Ange’s Pizza.

“Tom was actually my first boss. I used to work at Ange’s on Yearling as a teenager. He once told me I was the slowest pizza maker in America. I decided I’d stick to making the dough after that,” Darren confessed. “Tom is practically family. I’ve known him my whole life. That’s also what sets Ezzo apart. We’re as passionate about pizza as our customers. But they’re also family, and our family keeps getting bigger.” ▩

For more on Ezzo Sausage Company, visit ezzo.com