Archives (page 5 of 12)

July 20, 2019

From Ohio to the Moon

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

It’s difficult to fathom in the age of a thousand channels — not to mention Netflix, Amazon, and Hulu — a single moment when the entire world was watching the same thing at the same time on television. But in July of 1969, nearly every set was tuned in to watch human history unfold.

Five decades is a long time to forget, and grainy footage and faded photos let memories dim and make the achievement sometimes seem more distant than the Moon itself. It was Ohio’s own John Glenn who first took Americans into space, and Neil Armstrong who placed that first footprint on the lunar surface. So it was only fitting that two guys from Ohio would once again astound audiences with the imagery and adrenaline of that fabled first step on our nearest celestial neighbor.

Todd Douglas Miller and Matt Morton grew up together in Gahanna and have known each other since grade school. Their short-lived high school band played a few graduation gigs, but when it came time for college, they parted ways yet remained creatively connected. Miller moved to Michigan for film school, but when his student documentary set in their hometown needed some songs to round it out, Morton’s college band he’d formed at Denison University supplied the soundtrack. It was their first filmmaking collaboration, but hardly their last.

At this year’s Sundance Film Festival, their latest project, Apollo 11, stunned the jury and the industry with long-forgotten, large-format footage that made the Moon launch look like it happened yesterday. They’d set out to make a movie, but created a time machine.

“When we first contacted the National Archives about transferring every frame of film they had from Apollo 11, I’m sure they thought I was nuts,” recalled Miller. He knew the task was so daunting that no one in half a century had dared to even consider it. “About three months into the project, they wrote us an email with a progress report on everything they had in 16mm and 35mm from their NASA collection. But buried in the middle of the message was this discovery of 65mm Panavision footage. We didn’t know how much or the condition at the time, but it looked promising.”

“Promising” is polite parlance for unknown, but optimistic. Some of the reels had dates, a few even had shot lists. Others just had Apollo 11. It was an uncataloged mess by studio standards, but an untouched tomb of priceless artifacts to Miller and his team.

“The parallel story is that the post production facility I’d been working with in New York for a very long time was just getting into the film scanning business when a lot of companies were getting out,” Miller explained. “They were developing technologies that could handle large format film up to 70mm. The stars really did align.”

In an earlier era of film before a stream of electrons delivered pristine pictures and sound, images and audio weren’t one product until a film was edited and printed for exhibition. Apollo 11 curates thousands of hours of both down to an hour and a half opus using raw materials and equipment designed specifically for the project, most of it never seen or heard before. Miller and the team worked for weeks in three shifts, 24 hours a day, scanning each frame, and divvying up 11,000 hours of mission control and flight recordings to match up to footage later.

“We copied all of the files and just put them on our phones. My producing partner had this knack for finding these little moments of humanity. Our office is between our two houses. It was just a short walk for both of us, so we’d listen on the way,” Miller recalled. “I’d show up having just listened to 15 minutes of static and he’d have this revelation captured from the onboard audio of this song, Mother Country, which we ended up editing into the film. He also found audio of a woman’s voice who was a backroom flight controller arguing with one of the front room controllers about the return trajectory. Researchers and historians are going to spend decades on just the audio.”

But even the rich texture of images and conversations lacked the palpable tension necessary to pull everything together and put the achievement of Apollo 11 in the proper context for audiences. Luckily, Miller already had someone in mind working side-by-side from the start.

“When we did the first test screening, we basically had footage of the astronauts suiting up leading right up to the launch and the liftoff,” explained Matt Morton, who composed the entire score from his basement studio in Hilliard. “But what stuck with me most was the look, not of fear, but the sense of duty and the weight on their shoulders. I scored it with the same reverence and gravity, in that moment when they didn’t know, when none of us knew, if they were going to make it.”

Echoing the images and audio required rethinking the way the two had worked previously on several shorts, commercial projects, even acclaimed documentaries like Dinosaur 13 and The Last Steps, which chronicled NASA’s final mission to the Moon. Morton wanted something old, but original.

“When I told Todd I only wanted to use pre-1969 instruments, and most of the sound to come from an old Moog synthesizer, he needed some convincing,” chided Morton. “I try to stimulate discussion with all of my clients, offering suggestions and perspective from my take on the project. But Todd and I have this shorthand. I know how he feels about different styles of music down to the instruments. We can be honest.”

The result is an immersive experience that puts audiences of any age on the launch pad, in the lunar capsule, and on the Moon with unprecedented authenticity. The whole film feels almost voyeuristic with a direct cinema style that’s been all but abandoned in favor of contemporary cut rates and CGI. But perhaps most notable are the reaction shots throughout. If 2001: A Space Odyssey was Stanley Kubrick’s vision of mankind venturing into the unknown void, then this could be Steven Spielberg’s, amplified by a score as deceptively complex and unnerving as any science-fiction thriller.

The enormity of Apollo 11 begs for the biggest screen possible. Both Miller and Morton recalled fond memories of field trips to COSI as kids and the curiosity it helped foster, which comes full circle with a special 47-minute museum cut now screening at COSI’s IMAX theater throughout the summer—just the right length for aspiring astronauts and aerospace engineers. The full 93-minute cut will air on CNN July 20 in honor of the 50th anniversary of the Moon landing. The score is available on CD and digital, but will have a special anniversary vinyl release as well.

Also worth noting, neither has any firsthand memory of the Moon landing. They’re barely old enough to remember the moonwalk. Apollo 11 is effectively a found footage documentary, one that could earn both Miller and Morton an Academy Award for a film shot entirely before either of them was born. Both were quick to quash such speculation, as sincere artists do, rewarded by the achievement, not the accolade. As with previous projects, inspiration remains a primary motivation.

“Just last week I was in Amsterdam for a premiere at the EYE Film Institute and learned they have 39,000 reels of film in their archive,” revealed Miller. “Future filmmakers should get out their flashlights. There’s a lot more footage waiting to be rediscovered.” ▩

Apollo 11 is back in theaters nationwide for limited IMAX engagements and is now available on Hulu.

July 1, 2019

Very Veggie Brunch: Savory and Sweet Without the Meat

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

For the uninitiated omnivore, vegan and vegetarian options may seem scarce, even in a city as innovative and inviting as Columbus when it comes to inclusive cuisine. Long gone are the heyday of hippie joints with lean offerings long on salads, yet still short on something you could sink your teeth into—not that the stereotype was ever entirely accurate.

Though there is certainly far more fare from which to choose than there was a generation ago, veteran vegans and vegetarians may reluctantly admit midday meals and evening eats have always been easier to accommodate than traditional morning menus. And anything a little later, maybe with a little liquor, is almost impossible to find. Even Oddfellows’ unambiguous “Classy as F*ck Brunch Buffet” couldn’t last forever. Woodhouse Vegan’s Monday/Tuesday pop-up persists, though with any luck their new digs in Italian Village will revive the tradition.

Brunch is more than breakfast’s big brother. It’s at least as much a social imperative as a search for sustenance. Be it boozy or just bougie, the leisure class case for more conscientious consumption still remains somewhat shaky. Brunch is about familiar comfort foods, and requires rousing a gaggle of friends whose idea of weekend decadence may not be implicitly plant forward.

But this is when sneaky vegans and vegetarians can show the skeptics exactly where Columbus secretly shines, with approachable spots and unassuming options that might just change the minds of many who can’t imagine brunch beyond bacon.

Alchemy Kitchen | 1439 Grandview Avenue | alchemyjuicecafe.com

The more robust sibling of the Parsons Avenue café, the Grandview location offers an expanded menu with holistic nutrition that makes it far more than just another juice bar. (But seriously, if you don’t order a smoothie, you’re missing out.)

Toasts are tempting, especially the Baconana, topped with almond butter, banana, coconut bacon, smoked sea salt, and maple on whole wheat. But the standout here is still the Mexican Shakshuka, a twist on the Mediterranean staple with sunny-side eggs in a spiced pepper and tomato sauce, black beans, avocado, Bulgarian feta, pickled chilies and red onions, cilantro, and a slab of farm toast.

The Angry Baker | 891 Oak Street | theangrybaker.com

This Olde Towne East eatery has inspired two offshoots in the Short North and Upper Arlington. But the atmosphere of the original is still a strong draw with scratch-made breads and pastries that are all vegan by design.

Go for the Brioche French Toast Sandwich stuffed with eggs and swiss with a side of maple syrup for dipping—or the Fork & Knife Burrito, filled with potatoes, avocado, black beans, and mozzarella then baked and topped with two eggs, salsa verde, sriracha, and green onions. Make either vegetarian choice vegan with seitan and cashew mozz instead. Be sure to grab something sweet to go.

Blunch | 2973 N High Street | blunchcolumbus.com

Perfectly blurring the line between breakfast and lunch was always the point at this High Street haunt just south of Weber. With a generous mix of vegetarian selections, there’s plenty here to keep everyone happy—including a drink menu from bloody to bubbly with a solid slate of local craft brews.

The Veggie Benedict with sautéed vegetables on a panko-crusted portabella with poached eggs and roasted red pepper-cashew sauce is the vegetarian spin on a morning mainstay. For something less savory, you can’t go wrong with a Pancake Flight of sautéed bananas foster, blueberry lemon ricotta, and sweet potato with toasted marshmallows.

Little Eater | 4215 N. High Street | littleeater.com

“Produce inspired” is more than just a mantra for this quaint Clintonville location now with a sister shop in the North Market. Bright, white, subway tiles are as synonymous with the brand as the seasonal selection of locally sourced ingredients.

Start with the Spinach & Leek Frittata, with an unexpected balance of dill, turmeric, and feta—or the Mushroom Quiche with shallots and Gruyère. For something with some crunch, try any of their toasts, from Avocado Toasted Seed Mix with olive oil and sea salt on a slice of Lucky Cat bread to Pistachio Nut Butter with strawberry-citrus jam on a Matija Breads ciabatta.

Portia’s Café | 4428 Indianola Avenue | portiascafe.com

Once coupled with the beloved Clintonville Community Market, this Indianola outpost is adding a second location later this year in a familiar space, the same spot as the old Whole World Natural Restaurant and Bakery off High Street, a neighborhood standard for nearly four decades.

The Garden Breakfast Wrap with tofu eggs, “cheeze,” “sawsage,” tomato, lettuce, and mayo on a gluten-free tortilla is a meal you can hold in one hand. But don’t skip a side of their Rosemary Herbed Home Fries. If sweet is more your speed, their waffles are unmatched with toppings ranging from banana and blueberry to chocolate chip and coconut, as well as seasonal surprises. ▩

July 1, 2019

Old School “Base Ball”

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

When Aaron Seddon first stepped up to the plate nearly a decade ago for the Ohio Village Muffins, he was actually stepping back in time. It wasn’t the same game he’d played in his youth. The rules and uniforms were unfamiliar, and pushing 30 as a walk-on wasn’t out of the ordinary. Even the spelling was different. This was 1860 vintage “base ball”.

No that’s not a typo—and no, the whole team didn’t forget their gloves either.

“When we’re talking to spectators about the differences in the game, they’re immediately concerned that we aren’t wearing gloves. That kind of protective gear didn’t enter the game until the 1870s,” explained Seddon, who starting playing vintage baseball well past the age most major league scouts tend to take notice. “We get a lot of our recruits from people who come to matches, who are intrigued by what we’re doing. We’re a close-knit group, even off the field. We’re a team, but we’re also a family.”

Long before the days of hot dogs and dugouts, what we now know as baseball was played in fields and empty lots from Cooperstown to Hoboken. Historians still dispute the exact origin story of the sport, but generally agree that despite scattered clubs before the Civil War, it was the inevitable intermingling of Union and Confederate troops that transformed the game into a national pastime.

But Columbus has its own history, perhaps mixed with a little folklore. Before the war, there were exactly zero baseball teams in the capital city, but shortly after its end, there were six. Players learned the sport from fellow soldiers from New York and New Jersey who brought bats and balls with them to pass the time between battles. Even the hand signals still used today for balls, strikes, “safe” and “out” arguably owe credit to the Ohio School for the Deaf in Clintonville, put into play a decade later to help their hearing-impaired athletes compete as equals.

Which brings us back to the matter of the Muffins. When the Ohio History Connection started their vintage baseball program in 1981, there was no prototype, only a rulebook. Recruiting most of that first team from their employees, they couldn’t help having some self-deprecating fun at their future expense. In the early days of baseball, your best players were referred to as the “first nine” followed by the “second nine”. Everyone left on the bench were called the “muffins”. A “muff” was period vernacular for an error, back before they were counted. The name was so inside baseball, it was perfect.

“The umpire’s role isn’t really to arbitrate the game. He’s there is settle disputes between the players they can’t adjudicate themselves,” Seddon noted. “And the pitcher’s role is to facilitate hitting. In modern baseball, your pitcher is your best defensive player, to prevent the ball from getting into play. The game we play is before it became professional. Everyone was an amateur back then.”

Fans will also notice a suspicious absence of balls and strikes. Newspapers from the era report some batters taking 50 or more pitches waiting for just the right one, because if a hit was caught on the first bounce, it still counted as an out.

“Probably the biggest difference between modern baseball and the game we play, is if an opponent makes a really good play, everyone cheers,” Seddon revealed. “We’re playing a competitive game, we’re obviously both out there to win the match. But there’s much more camaraderie between the teams.”

Speaking of the other team, the Ohio History Connection has more than one vintage baseball club. Much as the rise of men’s baseball inspired impromptu games among women well before Vassar College started the first formal women’s program in 1866, the Diamonds played their first match in 1994. Despite their parallel history and popularity, many of the early women’s vintage baseball teams have since consolidated or faded away, making matches more challenging.

Like the Muffins, the Diamonds also represent the game as it was played in 1860, which for women of the era was strictly recreational. The rules were the same, but even playing in back fields among themselves, the ladies often caused quite a social stir with their attire.

“We wear period accurate dresses made from patterns of actual garments considered either a camp dress or a work dress. Someone who first starts out may play in a long skirt and a white blouse,” explained Jackie Forquer, who has played for the Diamonds for more than two decades. “We don’t play as many games as the men, but the time commitment is also less. We play festivals and exhibitions games. Our players who come from a softball background see this as another way to share their love of the game.”

Both the Muffins and Diamonds are technically historical “interpreters” who interact with spectators much as players would have in 1860, sometimes to exacting detail. Forquer, who plays first base, is sometimes the first ambassador for vintage baseball folks may meet, either through school programs or at the beginning of a game, with Diamonds matches often preceding the Muffins. Never breaking character, she’ll politely ask the umpire to seek the approval of the audience before women roll up or remove their sleeves before play begins. Showing so much skin used to be scandalous.

Every organization has a historian, but vintage baseball happens to have an actual one. Dr. Jim Tootle came to the original version of the game later in life than most, but has still managed to outlast many of his peers. Having retired as assistant dean of the Colleges of the Arts and Sciences at Ohio State, his passion for preservation is as infectious as his laugh.

“I’ve gotten to play in four major league parks from coast to coast. I thought my playing days were winding down when I stumbled upon this, and I’ve probably played 600 to 700 vintage games,” Tootle recalled. “It’s been a wonderful experience to represent the Ohio History Connection on our home field at The Ohio Village, but also to travel the state and the country.”

When folks say someone “wrote the book” on a significant or obscure subject, it’s typically a metaphor. Tootle actually has written the book on vintage baseball—two in fact, not counting a third still used by prospective vintage baseball teams across the country trying to get their start.

“It’s like Civil War reenacting in a way because we give great attention to accuracy—interpreting the rules, our uniforms, and our equipment. And yet, the moment the first pitch is thrown, it’s not a reenactment anymore. It’s a real game, and we don’t know who is going to win,” Tootle chidded. “I have to laugh watching ESPN anytime there’s a barehanded catch. They go nuts and show it three or four times. I feel like saying, ‘Come out to a vintage baseball game, every catch is a barehanded catch. Gloves weren’t even invented yet.’” ▩

For a complete schedule of games, including the 2019 Ohio Cup Vintage Base Ball Festival featuring 30 teams from across the country, visit ohiohistory.org

June 15, 2019

Four-Star Farm Stand

Originally published in the Summer 2019 issue of Stock & Barrel

Have you ever ordered a steak that was so spectacular, you wished you could ask the chef to carve off a couple more and wrap them up for the road?

That probably wasn’t what Joe and Jane Blystone had in mind when their fourth-generation farm started processing their own meat on-site more than a decade ago. But that’s kind of how it worked out. Their butcher shop and bakery soon led to a taproom, which inspired a bona fide farm-to-table restaurant. With a crafted collection of better beers and an enviable selection of elevated fare, Blystone Farm has evolved from a destination into a gathering place that lures more than just the locals.

Despite the burgeoning business, Blystone is still small where it matters most, treating guests and staff more like family, and attracting top talent like Tyler Toles as executive chef.

“We’re not very big on titles around here. Joe is just good at putting the right people in the right position,” admitted Toles, whose experience in better-known kitchens in Columbus didn’t dissuade him from stepping outside his culinary school comfort zone to run a four-star farm stand. “We talked as we walked around the farm, and I admired what Joe was trying to do at Blystone. So he invited me to become part of the family.”

What once was a commercial sheep farm has become a passion project. Joe’s hands-on approach to operations combined with Jane’s coffee shop and bakery background also made the couple perfect business partners.

“He’s so much more than a boss. Joe is everyone’s dad, but he still feeds the cows everyday,” Toles chided. “Jane is a pastry chef and beer connoisseur, but if we’re short-staffed, she’s out in front waiting on customers. It’s just part of the culture here at Blystone.”

Lunch and dinner daily with breakfast on the weekend sounds pretty typical, until you take your first bite. Even something as simple as a sandwich seems entirely original when it’s hand-pressed Wagyu beef smothered in fried onions and gooey Gouda—or a house blend patty topped with four strips of bacon, two slices of cheddar, and a fried egg, rightly called “The Whole Dang Farm.”

“A lot of people love our pasta, especially our mac and cheese. We start with semolina and durum flour and eggs, every shell is hand cut. The sauce is heavy cream and shredded cheddar,” he noted. “I’m from a fine dining background, so coming to Blystone was a bit of a culture shock—somewhere people appreciate real mac and cheese more than I’ve ever had guests appreciate foie gras or beluga caviar.”

Vanilla pancakes, scratch-made biscuits and gravy, and breakfast hash made from bacon ends instead of corned beef are surely standouts. But the star of the menu is still the steak.

“We dry-age our steaks in-house so we’re able to offer them at a price point where a 20-ounce ribeye will cost you $45. If you order that same steak in some locations in Columbus, you’re going to pay at least $170,” explained Toles. “American Wagyu is also hard to find at our prices. We work with farms like ours to meet our demand, so we don’t really have a middleman.”

As tempting as every confection is on the bakery side, the butcher shop offers an equally enticing case for carnivores. From flat irons and filets to short ribs and sliders, all the way up to a whole Wagyu brisket for $158. Those stocking up for a backyard soiree will find plenty of entry-level options as well, from those same hand-pressed patties to buck-a-brat specials.

“We don’t raise chickens here, but we work with four local farms because every chicken tastes different and we only want the best,” he revealed, preferring to feature local purveyors and products that make more sense to source instead. “We can’t supply everything ourselves, so we find folks who do it better than we could. Quality determines our partnerships, not price.”

The livestock and crops aren’t the only offerings from Blystone Farm that are organic. So is the marketing—limited to word of mouth, Facebook posts with preparation suggestions from their butcher shop, and Hank, one of their cattle dogs, whose popular pic wearing a cowboy hat earned him his own Instagram account.

Asked about the exact inspiration of each expansion, Toles explained it was the butcher shop that unexpectedly led to the taproom, then the restaurant, because customers wanted to stay, sit out on the patio, and have a beer and a bite to eat.

“Our taps are more seasonal. Right now, we have a lot of pilsners and goses, but during the cooler months Jane features more porters and stouts,” he noted. “Exclusivity also brings folks in. Kinda Fuzzy by Jackie O’s is kind of hard to get in this market, 3 Floyds is rare to find and we feature them regularly.”

One of the first events Toles undertook was a beer dinner in collaboration with Jackie O’s. The event sold out and everyone raved about it. Joe told Toles, “We should really do more of this. We’re pretty good at it.” Not long after, Toles pulled into work one day and noticed Joe clearing ground, so he walked up and asked what was going on.

“‘I’m building an event center,’ said Joe. It was that simple,” Toles recalled. “Joe built it personally in less than a year. He had some help with the brick and the electrical, but other than that, it was all him. The design, the details, down to the staining of the concrete.”

The Barn, a nearly 4,000 square-foot event space, is key to their expanding scope. A petting zoo is in the works and fundraising for the new Blystone Agricultural Community is underway, a nonprofit with an emphasis on education and experiences for future farmers. “Beards & Brews” and a “Wagyu Cookout” are already scheduled for this summer to get the program started.

“Columbus is urban, and Canal Winchester is definitely growing. But we’re still a farming community,” Toles explained. “Joe wants to encourage the next generation of family farms by giving city kids who may not consider farming the opportunity to raise livestock. We have almost a hundred acres out here. If I know one thing for certain, as long as Joe has land and can keep building, Blystone is going to keep growing.” ▩

For details on all that Blystone Farm has to offer, including menus and special events, visit blystonefarm.com

May 1, 2019

Season of the Witch

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

When it comes to weird, Austin may market their offbeat brand, but Columbus quietly holds its own.

Despite a disparaging white bread reputation, we’ve secretly become a Midwest mecca for ideas that often seem at odds with the cows and corn fields that surround us. Which is why WitchLab, the occult emporium for oddities and macabre antiques, found Franklinton was the perfect fit.

“I seriously started to consider a retail space about a year ago. So we looked and spent a lot of time talking to building owners,” recalled Tiffany Boggins, founder of WitchLab. “But as soon as I mentioned what we were doing, suddenly the space wasn’t available, the rent quadrupled, or they just weren’t interested anymore.”

Boggins had been working out of her suburban basement for years with business partner Tona Pearson. Originally intended to become an online store for wholesale supplies, classes and community soon distinguished and defined the brand, providing the personal connection practitioners lacked most.

“I realized I missed being around other people—having coworkers, having people stop by, having a designated place that wasn’t my home started to become imperative,” she noted. “I put it on the back burner and focused on classes and ideas for building our product base. Then in June, we had the opportunity to look at this building, only because we knew the landlord, and it all went very smoothly.”

Finding the right space isn’t uncommon for small businesses, especially those that struggle with stereotypes and prejudice. Their biggest concern should be making sure customers can find them, though many often have a tough time finding a space themselves.

“Witchcraft is a word that can shut many doors, but it can also open a lot of doors,” Boggins revealed. “Once you start using the word publicly and with pride, people start coming out of the woodwork who have been looking for somewhere to go, to talk openly, to be themselves.”

The Westside has evolved into a safe harbor for artists and entrepreneurs across all industries. From 400 West Rich to The Idea Foundry, the initial enclave of innovators and outsiders continues to expand its geographic and creative footprint.

“We’re both involved in the arts community here and everything is so grassroots. That’s why people love it,” explained Pearson. “It’s artists and makers running their own spaces. Not businesses selling things.”

Even areas as live-and-let-live as Franklinton aren’t always welcome. Boggins and Pearson made of point of getting to know their neighbors at the mission down the block during construction, and hosted a winter solstice open house to help dispel any lingering concerns, to shed some light into the shadows that tend to surround their craft.

“We were looking at parts of town that weren’t like the Short North. I used to be part owner of Piercology. Tattoo and piercing places also have a tough time with landlords,” Boggins recalled. “We actually moved from the Short North to Victorian Village to get away from what was going on there and the transformation to trendy. We just weren’t interested in being there anymore.”

Every aspiring chef who eventually escapes their home kitchen or artisan who outgrows a garage knows finding that first space isn’t easy—and finding the perfect space is nearly impossible. But WitchLab found the right fit in an empty storefront they could cast into whatever they wanted: a robust retail space, a dedicated classroom, a library open to the public, private reading rooms, and an enormous basement for production.

“All of the places I looked at before, I was picking and choosing what I’d have to give up. But here, I could do everything I wanted,” Boggins said. “It gave me all of the things I couldn’t find elsewhere. Plenty of space, parking is great, and I don’t have to sugar-coat anything or change the way I talk about what we do.”

Magic isn’t as maligned as it used to be, but is rarely represented faithfully on screen. Even Harry Potter still draws some ire and CBS sent the series Strange Angel straight to their streaming service. Both Boggins and Pearson admitted they’re fans of Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Despite its somewhat inaccurate depictions, it breaks down barriers and starts a conversation.

“Pop culture and the political climate are making witchcraft less obscure. We used to be all of the ‘weird kids’, but now we’re adults who are finding each other,” Pearson explained, revealing an unexpected clientele. “Christian parents bring in their weird kids in because they support their kids, because they want to learn.”

“They’ll come in and say, ‘I don’t know anything about this, but they’re really interested. How do I help them?’,” Boggins added. “We didn’t realize that was going to happen. Since then, we’ve brought in a lot of material for those just starting out, at any age, books for beginners.”

Beyond the obvious intrigue of the two-headed calf and the human skeleton in the corner named Clay, it’s the more mundane supplies that attract fellow practitioners from far and wide. Their annual autumn event, The Dark Market, attracts vendors and patrons from across the country. But after a December opening to find their footing, spring is when WitchLab expects to hit its stride.

“All of the Pagan holidays are based on balance. So we have the extremes, the solstices with the longest and shortest days of the year, and the equinoxes, where the pendulum is in the middle,” noted Boggins. “That’s when, particularly in the spring, people are itching to start something new. It’s a season of awakening and perfect timing for us, to be open for a few months listening to our clientele and ready when they are.” ▩

For details on events and classes, visit witchlab.com

May 1, 2019

Coastal Comfort Food

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

If not for the rhythmic roar of an occasional COTA bus breaking like waves against the shore, you might just mistake the sounds of the Short North for a Southern California boardwalk. But if the seaside inspired shutters and coastal decor of its most recent restaurant don’t suspend your disbelief, the menu and milieu surely will.

Cameron Mitchell’s newest venture, Del Mar SoCal Kitchen, is the casual counterpoint to Ocean Prime (or what we locals know better as the original Ocean Club). Though the dinner-only destination is more than a “finer diner,” with an emphasis on intimacy, dominated by two-tops complemented with low-lit alcoves for more amorous couples and conversations.

The weekend before any restaurant launch is often a soft open, the culinary equivalent of a dress rehearsal for a forgiving audience. But unlike the average opening night, this evening was actually a tale of two Camerons. To my left was the insatiable restaurateur introducing a table of friends to his latest collection of curated cuisine, and at my own table, the irrepressible Cameron Fontana and his wife Katie. Familiar faces for sure, but we were otherwise strangers who just happened to be seated together.

Columbus is just big enough for folks to share the same orbit without ever intersecting. Though they didn’t know it at the time, my wife and I also happened to be house shopping a couple of years back, even looking at some of the same homes, including one featured on their appearance on HGTV’s House Hunters. Fontana also fell short of finishing a comically proportioned local pizza challenge, as well as having been born in Osaka the same year I’d spent a summer in Japan as an exchange student.

Cameron moved to California as a kid, decades before television became his calling and Columbus his adopted hometown. Meanwhile, Katie hails from Pickerington, yet her influence as a fitness and dance instructor reaches well beyond Central Ohio. The unanticipated rapport made them the perfect two-person test market for that other Cameron’s Midwest twist on coastal comfort food.

Never mind the awkwardness of new acquaintances. Exploring the menu immediately became a group effort, with each course pushing geographic and culinary boundaries. Though billed as a “SoCal” establishment, opening options like the curry clams, with heirloom tomato and Thai coconut, to the chilled octopus, served on ice with pickled cucumber, tobiko roe, and a citrus vinaigrette, cast a wider net with Pacific Rim credibility.

Cameron was cool with shells, scales, even suction cups. But Katie confessed she isn’t always so keen on seafood. It’s a common conundrum among couples when one comes from the coast and the other is a little more local, another coincidence my wife and I share with the Fontanas. It’s not that seafood is inherently more sophisticated, just more scarce. The farther you grow up from saltwater, the more likely you are to eat off the hoof than off the hook.

Accordingly, Katie ordered the more reliable angus ribeye, flanked by a spinach salad of smoked bacon, pickled turnips, and ricotta salata, while Cameron was tempted by the almost obligatory fish tacos, breaded in a Baja style Tecate beer batter with bright pico de gallo and a sweet potato chimichurri. The halibut had my name on it, with Marona almonds and golden raisins atop a citrus chili relish. But everyone was also eyeing the swordfish, which we agreed to split—along with everything else.

And this is where Del Mar really raises the bar, offering equally enviable alternatives to their signature fare. At most seafood restaurants, if it doesn’t have fins, it probably plays second fiddle. The ribeye was seasoned and seared to steakhouse standards. The tacos were on target with a tempura texture offering yet another nod to California’s Asian influences. The halibut was delicate and decadent, and exactly what you’d expect from a plate I later learned every chef has to personally approve before it leaves the kitchen.

But the swordfish was sumptuous and as satisfying as any cut of steak, balanced with a refreshing Brussels sprout and sliced apple slaw with orange-mustard vinaigrette and a creamy sweet potato puree waiting to be discovered on the bottom of every bite. If there’s a single entree that epitomizes Del Mar’s earnest appeal to Midwestern palates, this may be it—and Katie is among its early converts.

Del Mar’s desserts are deceptively understated. Easily overlooked are the coconut sorbet served on the half shell and the Hawaiian shaved ice with the punch of pineapple. Order both and share for an experience akin to a deconstructed piña colada. For something more citrusy and unexpected, the olive oil cake is like eating an orange creamsicle with a fork, and so moist it cuts without leaving a crumb.

Dinner could end right there or extend upstairs to Lincoln Social Rooftop, an equally intimate perch accessible only by private elevator. Despite the polished appointments and urban overlook that stretches from downtown to the University District, the low seating around a cozy campfire still carries a little of the beach vibe into the exclusive cocktail lounge.

Despite its shine, California cuisine often gets as much shade, with petite and pretentious presentation rubbing the working class the wrong way. Steve Martin’s sardonic Shakespearean satire L.A. Story summed it up succinctly with one silly line — “Gee, I’m done already and I don’t remember eating.”

Not so with Del Mar SoCal Kitchen. Each plate is portioned with purpose—generous, but never garish—featuring flavors that reveal a refined appreciation for beloved regional ingredients. Those Brussels sprouts and sweet potato headline a recurring cast of Midwest favorites rarely found in deep-sea delicacies. The recipes are ocean-inspired, but undeniably Ohio in origin. If Alice Waters were to suddenly set up shop in the Short North, her execution would likely look shockingly similar.

Columbus is still a meat and potatoes town better known for beer and beards than seafood for certain. But the thoughtful and affordable opulence of Del Mar SoCal Kitchen proves we’re more than just another inland culinary imitator. We’re not simply an emerging market. We’re evolving into a city that defines its own identity—sure to acknowledge influences, but unapologetic as innovators deserving our own overdue moment in the sun. ▩

For reservations and details on Cameron Mitchell’s latest endeavor, visit delmarcolumbus.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

April 1, 2019

Suburban She-Hulk

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

When Brooke Sousa stepped on stage at the Arnold Classic’s strongwoman competition for the first time in 2016, she’d already beaten the odds. The mother of two from Westerville had dropped 115 pounds and completed her first marathon before pivoting to weightlifting. But she was still an unranked amateur with no expectation of even placing.

Sousa finished dead last in every event. It wasn’t the first time.

“Running was something I’d hated since elementary school. When we’d run the mile, I was always the last kid around the block,” she confessed. “At 10 years old, I was 180 pounds. I was the fat kid who hoped I might someday be famous for my artwork.”

She pursued that passion at the Columbus College of Art and Design, but it was her two young daughters who inspired her unlikely origin story — to get in shape and forge a new path. However, when Sousa joined a local gym, it was her raw strength, not her size, that stood out most among her fitness class.

“The lowest weight I could get down to was 215 pounds. I weighed more than that as a teenager, trying to fit in with what America expects a woman to look like,” Sousa recalled. “But I could lift a 15-pound barbell, so they called me She-Hulk and the name stuck.”

That was six years ago. Last summer, she lifted a little more.

At a competition in Norway this past July, Sousa lifted 285 pounds simultaneously with each hand in the “Hercules Hold,” carried nearly 600 pounds in the “Timber Yoke,” and dragged 17 rolling tons in the “Truck Pull” to win the heavyweight division and the title “World’s Strongest Woman.”

That first Arnold measured a different kind of strength. Sousa’s sacroiliac joint, or SI, had locked up her lower back days before the competition. She knew it was still better for future qualification to compete than withdraw. But she also feared serious injury. It was ultimately the realization that she needed a new coach, and a new approach.

“I spent four months researching coaches to make sure I would be ready for the Arnold 2017. I was undertrained and underprepared,” she lamented. “That’s how I met Matt Wenning. He competed for 25 years and set three world records without ever being injured.”

Wenning’s westside gym in East Franklinton, Ludus Magnus, was the right fit all around. Bearing the same name as ancient Rome’s most prestigious school for gladiators, it offers a modest mix of old school black iron and custom equipment for serious competitors.

“Matt’s created a couple pieces of equipment, like the belt squat machine, that taught me how to use my hips correctly,” noted Sousa. “When I first started here, I could only lift the frame, which is 45 pounds, without knocking my back out. Now I can load it up to almost 800 pounds.”

Bodybuilding and weightlifting are fundamentally different. The former is judged on appearance, the latter on performance. The two are practically as different mechanically as men and women, similar but not the same. And much like women’s hockey and soccer, there are undeniable advantages to a lower center of gravity, where a hip check or swift kick can beat their best male counterparts.

“I’d rather show judges what I can do instead of standing on stage looking pretty,” she laughed. “I actually gained 30 pounds training for my first marathon, and now I run with a 100-pound weighted vest to make myself heavier, to maintain my strength.”

Much like the men’s divisions, women’s weightlifting tends to come with injuries, often career ending. Since bouncing back from that first defeat and going pro in 2017, Sousa is now the only competitor of the original ten from that inaugural year still competing at the Arnold. Though she didn’t rank first this time, she sees her weightlifting career as its own marathon.

“You can change the events and change the competitors and it’s anyone’s game. Our scores were all so close,” she explained. “I lifted a personal best in every event and I didn’t push myself into an injury. I’m still winning.”

That doesn’t mean Sousa isn’t pushing herself. In additional to training firefighters and other folk whose safety and ours rely on proper conditioning, she also makes time for an unexpected weightlifting clientele — children with autism.

“When I used to workout at a commercial gym, I noticed a therapist struggling to work with a young girl who had autism. So, I offered to help,” Sousa recalled. “That’s what eventually led last year to The M Foundation.”

Named for two of her earliest and youngest clients, Maddy and Maggie, the nimble nonprofit couples Sousa’s experience and enthusiasm with a support staff trained in serving children with special needs into a novel combination of fitness and focus.

“When I started working with Maddy and Maggie, they didn’t have the balance the ride a bike, or squat without falling over because of weakness in their core,” she said. “I wanted to create a safe, fun environment for kids who often struggle to fit in, just like I did.”

Sousa’s work is more sophisticated than it outwardly appears. Beyond basic fitness training, the resistance and feedback of lifting weights and exercise of specific muscle groups improves overall mobility and body awareness. The social component of group classes also helps students overcome an equally daunting limitation to acceptance.

“Maggie used to struggle to do a single push up, and now her favorite activity in the gym is the bench press,” Sousa explained. “You have no idea how far she’s come to be able to rep out 85 pounds at 15 years old. She’s now to the point where she can help others use the equipment correctly, and has the social skills and self-confidence to do it.”

Sousa’s feats of strength are already becoming legendary. But she knows The M Foundation is as much a part of her legacy, and the attention her physical achievements bring to her other ambition is a record that will last long after the awe and applause fade.

Though the She-Hulk hook started as an aspirational nickname, it’s accidentally become a metaphor for metamorphosis — motivating others to look past appearance and ability to appreciate the true strength within.

“When I’m up on stage competing in front of fans and judges who’ve seen me before, it just pushes me harder,” Sousa said. “They already know I’m strong. But now I’m stronger.” ▩

For more details on Ludus Magnus and The M Foundation, visit wenningstrength.com and themfoundationkids.org

March 15, 2019

Tiny Diners

Originally published in Spring 2019 issue of Stock & Barrel

Somewhere between East Coast delicatessens and West Coast cafés is the culinary intersection of utility and community. Though the Midwest didn’t exactly invent the diner, it has arguably perfected it. But defining a diner isn’t as easy as it seems.

Tommy’s urban appeal and Nancy’s down-home feel are two sides of the same coin. Cap City and Starliner both push the envelope with avant-garde offerings, while Hang Over Easy and Chef-O-Nette certainly deserve a nod. But none really meet the standard for tiny diners, the neighborhood haunts only the locals seem to know.

Despite our critically-acclaimed restaurant scene, the classic diner is working class by design. Most offer open kitchens and open seating without a sous chef or sommelier in sight. Better still if there’s a guy with a gallery of tattoos behind the grill and the coffee is strong enough to stand up a spoon. Breakfast hours are essential; breakfast anytime is understood.

There’s an implicit social compact to rubbing elbows with strangers at tightly-grouped tables or a crowded counter, with enough knickknacks and nostalgia so that even regulars find something new every time. Off-the-menu specials and predictable patrons the staff know by name are all part of the charm.

Unfortunately, that social scene is also what may make these esoteric eateries intimidating for the uninitiated. So here’s an insider’s guide to some of the city’s best tiny diners and the plates that make them great.

BREAKFAST

George’s Beechwold Diner | 4408 Indianola Ave.

Dinky diner meets neighborhood dive on the edge of Clintonville. The steak and eggs and biscuits and gravy are both solid. If you can’t decide, you can’t go wrong with the garbage omelet, which varies from visit to visit, but includes every meat, cheese, and veggie on the menu.

Jack & Benny’s Barnstormer | 2160 W Case Rd., Dublin

Hidden gem is an understatement for a joint tucked away in the back of a hanger at the recently remodeled OSU Airport. Try the legendary Gut Buster at least once—layers of egg, cheese, sausage, bacon, ham, and hash browns with a potato pancake and peppered gravy for good measure.

Stav’s Diner | 2932 E. Broad St., Bexley

Skip the standard French toast and substitute challah bread instead for something unexpected. Buttery pancakes with fresh blueberries are always in season. Don’t be afraid to get creative. Order the gyro omelet with feta, then add spinach and tomato for even more Mediterranean flavors.

Louie’s Daybreak Diner | 1168 E Weber Rd.

This Linden destination offers all the standard breakfast fare with some signature standouts, like their famous Panhandler, or a personal favorite, the Philly Omelet. Sliced roast beef and Swiss with mushrooms, peppers and onions is like a cheesesteak wrapped in an egg instead of a bun.

LUNCH

German Village Coffee Shop | 193 Thurman Ave.

Don’t let the name fool you. The patty melt is superb, covered in grilled onions, Swiss and American cheese, and Thousand Island on rye—as is the Monte Christa, the comfort food cousin of the classic club sandwich with egg-battered bread stuffed with hot turkey, ham and cheese.

Delaney’s Diner | 5916 Westerville Rd., Westerville

With a new name, more tables, and a few menu holdovers, you’ll still find the best corned beef hash in Columbus, carved into huge chunks, served with grilled red potatoes and onions, and eggs to order. Crispy country fried steak smothered in sausage gravy also remains a reliable staple.

Jack’s Downtown Diner | 52 E Lynn St.

Hard to find, even in the heart of downtown, is a time capsule of the prototypical American diner. You could shoot a period picture at Jack’s and not have to change a thing. It’s already perfect. Order the meatloaf sandwich on sourdough with a side of hash browns, just to mix it up.

Grill & Skillet | 2924 E Main St., Bexley

Nothing says nostalgia like grilled liver and onions with homemade mashed potatoes, or a thick-sliced, fried bologna sandwich—not even the checkerboard floors. But don’t overlook the weekend specials, like peanut butter and banana French toast, salmon patties with Hollandaise, or their killer kielbasa and eggs.

DINNER

3 Brothers Diner | 3090 Southwest Blvd., Grove City

The three brothers from Oaxaca helped establish the style of another local diner before opening their own. Try their namesake omelet, with bacon, ham, plantains, and Monterey Jack covered in chili sauce and sour cream—or their signature scramble with poblanos, onions, corn, and zucchini, topped with Jack and queso fresco.

Westerville Grill | 59 S State St., Westerville

On the south end of Uptown, evening hours are often the exception when it comes to diners. Don’t miss the smothered chicken, grilled with peppers, onions, mushrooms, and melted cheddar with a side of mashed potatoes, or the weekend-only prime rib, slow-roasted and served with au jus.

Philco Diner + Bar | 747 N High Street, Columbus

The only entry on the list where all-day breakfast meets beer and cocktails, this upscale Short North pit stop offers a modern twist on every recipe. Seriously consider the coffee-braised pot roast, served with butternut squash, red potatoes, poblanos, and goat cheese, with rosemary onion rings.

Fitzy’s Old Fashioned Diner | 1487 Schrock Rd.

It’s never too late or too early at Fitzy’s, the only 24-hour diner on our list. Go for the breaded and fried, sliced pork tenderloin, served as an entrée, on a sandwich, or with your eggs—or keep it simple with the Fitzer: eggs your way, home fries, and a biscuit all covered in sausage gravy. ▩

March 15, 2019

Seasoned Supper Club

Originally published in the Spring 2019 issue of Stock & Barrel

Most dinner parties start in the kitchen, and the better ones tend to end there. But some of the best in Columbus actually start in a dentist office—or what used to be one.

Tricia Wheeler, founder of The Seasoned Farmhouse, describes her passion project simply as a recreational cooking school. She arguably sells herself short. The dated dental office in Clintonville that once sat empty has evolved into a rustic, yet refined, community kitchen for ambitious home chefs or anyone seeking to hone their culinary credibility.

It was more than just a second act for the former home, restored to its original residential charm with raised beds of herbs and produce for a rotating slate of chefs. It was Wheeler’s second act as well. Following a short and unsatisfying stint in corporate security after graduating from Ohio State, she found herself at a fork in the road.

“I called my dad and said I was going to start a new business, either a catering company, or a background screening company,” she revealed. Her father played practical and asked which one would cost less to get going, and how much money she had on hand. “I told him the background screening company, and $400. He said, ‘That’s great, because the hungrier you are, the harder you’re going to work’.”

The fledgling screening company she started a decade earlier grew and was eventually acquired by an investor for a comfortable sum. Wheeler suddenly found herself out of work, but with an enviable second chance. So she relocated to New York to fulfill her long-deferred dream of going to culinary school—with her mother in tow to tend to her two-year-old, while her husband made the long commute back to Columbus.

“I figured out early on that as much as I loved cooking, I really wanted to share what I was learning with my friends,” she recalled. “They didn’t find cooking joyful as much as tedious, so I was the only one throwing dinner parties.”

The idea that would become The Seasoned Farmhouse started small—not even as a school, but as a series of classes Wheeler initially taught at the M/I Homes Design Center kitchen showroom. The concept was solid, but the space proved restrictive. And what started as nine tiny dental offices was reconfigured into an oversized kitchen and intimate dining room dynamic enough to accommodate several classroom formats.

“We have students who are straight out of college and love to cook, retirees who love to cook and are looking for something to do, and couples who love to cook and want to do something together,” she noted. “We don’t repeat a lot. I’ll teach my sauce class every other year, and we might do our knife skills twice a year. My curiosity has always been in trying things that are new.”

The Seasoned Farmhouse offers 42 classes, four times a year—an impressive schedule by even traditional culinary school standards. Yet there remains an unexpected mix of luxury and utility, with fundamentals flanked by classes in niche cuisines as well as options like sheet tray dinners, for those looking for creative ways to get a delicious meal on the table fast without the fuss.

One course that remains a perennial favorite is Wheeler’s kitchen fundamentals class, a two-night course taught over two weeks that teaches everything from sweet and savory crepes to how to make a pasta sauce from scratch with what you probably have in your cupboard.

“I like giving students that foundation, that confidence,” she added. “I teach how to make a Chicken Piccata, it’s the perfect date meal. It’s what I used to make for every date I’ve ever had,” Wheeler confessed. “I started as the main instructor, but our growth has been organic. If someone comes to us, and we like what they do, we’ll give them the opportunity to see how their talents fit.”

This evening’s guest chef for “Thai Date Night” is no exception. Damian Ettish hails originally from South Africa. But his relocation to London, and extended adventures in India and Thailand before immigrating to Columbus, epitomize the unique expertise students have come to expect. He is used to working solo, but tonight he’ll have more than a dozen sous chefs—some seasoned, some as green as the curry—but all eager to learn something new.

“Cooking for a dozen people is obviously different than cooking on the truck, when you never know how many people are going to show up. So when I teach people to cook, it gives me time to share tips,” Ettish explained. “No one is coming here to learn to slice an onion. But I’ll teach them how to cut one the way I learned to on the streets of Thailand.”

His renowned local food truck, “Fetty’s Street Food” and restaurant chops seamlessly pivot between tricks, like how to cut that onion into tiny boat-shaped slices that better hold the sauce, and his intriguing travelogue, peppered with wry humor and hands-on encouragement.

“I really love these intimate settings. It’s more my style, and you can focus more on the food and flavors,” he noted. “It’s a lot like a food truck versus a restaurant. If I can teach people how to do something on a smaller scale, as a couple, then they learn how to do it on a larger scale, like a dinner party.”

Among tonight’s students are Michael and Emily Berlin, who moved here from Chicago five years ago. Emily gave Michael a gift certificate for The Seasoned Farmhouse their first Christmas in Columbus, and they’ve been coming ever since.

“Watching how everything goes together as a home chef is different than just following directions,” Michael observed. “Columbus has an up and coming food scene, so this is what a lot of people are looking for.”

Technique is tough to teach on a recipe card, or even YouTube. Ettish imparts insights more than instructions, like how to cut a bell pepper upside down to leave the seeds behind, slicing a chicken breast for even cooking in a curry, or holding a knife properly to ensure the pungent peanut and cucumber dip for the corn cakes ends up with more pickles than knuckles.

“We’ve done more of the dinners than the classes, but we always pick up a new tip,” noted Emily. “It’s the small things you don’t know unless you’ve been trained in a restaurant or gone to culinary school.”

That first gift came full circle with a birthday party at The Seasoned Farmhouse with family and friends Michael planned as a surprise for his wife. Though Wheeler’s better known sister company, Flowers & Bread, also hosts events, the breadth and depth offered by The Seasoned Farmhouse draws a line between the two as distinct as the difference between a café and a restaurant.

“We’re a gift couples give each other. Then they invite their friends to come with them next time,” Wheeler explained. “It’s why I love being in the experience business. It feels like I’m always throwing a dinner party.” ▩

For more details and a schedule of upcoming classes, visit theseasonedfarmhouse.com