Under the Table

Last week, Till’s $20, 3-course dinner special beckoned to us like icy beer on a sweltering evening

Speaking of which, Till’s beer-tail — the almost Saison-y Old Porch Swing — was pretty refreshing on the place’s packed little patio. Still, I preferred Till’s bracing and thoroughly terrific martini riff called the Martinez, made with Ransom, that great “Old Tom”-style, scotch-colored gin

Fried green tomatoes with shiitake melon seviche was a beautiful first course that popped open eyes with color and propped open palates with astringency 

Homemade sausage and biodynamic cheddar biscuits was a different, more comforting type starter that gently massaged the mouth into awakeness

This loaded Lamb burger on a homemade bun rules Columbus right now

But the Vegan Mac & Cheese with blackened tofu brought a lotta unexpected meatless fun to our tongues too — and reminded us how high Dragonfly could make uninteresting-sounding, hippie-ish food really soar

This potent and pretty Watershed Sling was refreshing and a very capable “intermezzo” 

If this heavily adorned brownie-like “Mexican Hot Chocolate” looks kinda melty from sitting in the intense July heat, it was. Fortunately it was devoured so quickly it had little chance to further disintegrate

Even better was this re-imagined goat cheese tiramisu with poached peaches. Yeah, it might sound kinda over-thought, but it was light and lively and actually unforgettable.

On another finishing note, I was glad to see Till so busy last week that I had to wait for a seat. See, I was too ignorant to make reservations (like everyone else there, I suppose) yet the friendly Till folks still managed to sneak me in. On the downside, it was a drawn-out and protracted dinner service — good thing I had nothing better to do than sink deep into the late summer evening and slowly enjoy the growing night. 

No, this is not a pizza from Harvest, though it might easily pass for one. Actually, this beauty came from a soft-opening tasting at the soon-to-be Natalie’s Coal Fired Pizza in lower Worthington. (Head’s up folks: I expect Natalie’s to instantly become an elite pizzeria).

Baked at around 800-1200 degrees in (I believe) the city’s only anthracite coal-burning pizza oven ever (a la some of the oldest and most famous East Coasters, such as NYC’s venerated Lombardi’s), it had a lovely, thin crust that terminated in a puffy, charred edge. In other words, it’s the kinda pizza that gets my juices flowing.

Owned by some of the great people responsible for Columbus’ legendary Aardvark Video (who brought John Waters to town, and where movies were categorized by “Ozu” and “Bertolucci” more so than “action” or “comedy”), Natalie’s will also be a live music club — expect alt-country, blues, jazz and singer-songwriter “Americana.”

Natalie’s is planning to open next weekend, with Ricky Barnes (former owner of the Explorer’s Club and a terrific musician who used to play semi-regularly at another groundbreaking classic Columbus spot — Stache’s) and his band “The Chickens” will help kick things off on Saturday night (i.e. August 4th).

I’m guessing you can tell I’m pretty excited by this place’s potential.

See you at Natalie’s…and expect to see my review of it in Alive as soon as it works out its opening jitters and settles on its liquors/ wines and beers lists.     

Pies Gourmet Pizza Bistro is restless chef Bill Fugitt’s latest destination. It’s located in the unglamorous suburb of Reynoldsburg —  which means, as a good 20 to 25 minute cruise from my Clintonville house, it is a destination. So is it worth the drive? You bet. 

On the left is Pie’s creative take on the Bloody Mary. Not so bloody, huh? That’s because muddled heirlooms stand in for tomato juice. This makes it a much lighter cocktail with blasts of spice and citrus arousing garden-y garnishes such as that fresh dill sprig and those bobbing ’maters. 

To the right is the almost pie-like (not pizza pie, from whence this place gets its name, but dessert-y pie) Peach Sangria with lotsa flavor from cinnamon and cantaloupe.

In the background are the terrific free macadamia nuts they ply you with in the upstairs bar — my preferred place to dine here. 

Up close and personal with that not-so-bloody cocktail

These meaty charred dates were popular and earned raves from every table near me (they were recommended by the waiters, who, BTW, would eagerly engage in conversation with diners over menu items and ingredient sourcing)   

The Brussels sprouts were also widely lauded — check out their enticing color. 

Below is the veggie pizza, which I liked fine, meaning I think Pie’s other stuff is actually more interesting 

El Camino Inn was my other story this week. It’s another Corbin project, and like other members in that restaurant family (The Rossi, Club 185, Little Palace), it’s built for fun.

EC’s decent-enough tacos son muy barato (only $2!) and buddy up great w/the place’s cervezas

I’m a sucker for fried masa, and this gordita (L) and tostada (R) werepretty fun to munch on (especially the gordita) and also stoopid cheap ($3 apiece — you cannot go wrong w/ that price)

If you’re really hungry, go for the mess-tastic Cubano torta (note: Cubano is shorthand for “throw everything in there!”) which, weighing in at $8, is the most expensive thing on the menu 

This dark (obscura) beer is from a newer Mexican brewery and its one you don’t run into often. As I recall (I drank it during that crazy 4th of July weekend) it had dark chocolate and even coffee aspects to it.

Holidays are kinda made for inventory-taking, right? Well, with that in mind, I figured since tomorrow is that grand All-American midsummer’s holiday, it might be a fine time to update this truant blog with “What I Ate” on the traditional beginning-of-summer holiday — BTW it was crazy-great.

When I read that the NoMad restaurant in The NoMad Hotel (note: NoMad stands for North of Madison Square park) was the site of a newer, cocktail-ier, “more casual” restaurant headed by super-brilliant, Swiss-born chef Daniel Humm, I knew I had to dine there while in NYC for a Memorial Day getaway.

Do you know about Humm? He’s the top toque at fabulous Eleven Madison Park (NYT 4-stars, Michelin 3-stars, i.e. the highest possible honors in the entire world); I happened to be lucky enough to dine at EMP last summer — and I couldn’t have loved it more.

Anyway, Humm’s been in the news recently as this current NYC topdog cook just won the 2012 James Beard Award for Outstanding Chef. Believe me, he deserves it. Here’s a look at our Memorial Day lunch: 

NoMad’s (free!) bread service is a rather husky and lavish affair which stars this mammoth, warm and crustily seductive potato-crested loaf. Yeah, it coulda been the veritable meal-in-itself, but we were on a mission 

Egg Poached with asparagus, quinoa and parmesan — delicate yet explosive and a carnival of textures

Tagliatelle King crab, Meyer lemon & black pepper — I’m a pasta whore and I would gladly hit the streets for weeks for this deceptively simple ensemble. It was especially unusual because, at first glance, it was in essence sauce-less. One bite into the sublime handmade noodles, though, told me they had to’ve been cooked in a bright Meyer lemon sauce which the pasta had completely soaked up — and which detonated off the insanely fresh shellfish. A more artful application of cooking basics — salt, pepper, butter — would be hard to imagine 

Halibut Slow-cooked with spring peas, saffron & lemon-thyme. This butter-bathed dish was one of those deals where you taste every single, super high-grade ingredient in its pristine and individual state while you simultaneously taste it synergizing with its platemates into something different and even more special 

Working with NoMad’s sommelier, we paired our courses with cocktails — fun!

Here are the superior cocktails we enjoyed that day — some of which rhymed with the food, some of which drew brash counterpoints with it, all of which we marveled over (note the glasses, ice, garnishes…). Believe me, we can’t wait to go back to NoMad!

Haymarket Suze, cucumber, lime, pale ale

Satan’s Circus Rye whiskey, Thai bird chili-infused aperol, cherry heering, lemon

Velvet Cobbler Amontillado sherry, Riesling, Lemon verbena

Panamericano Pisco Acholado, Cocchi Americano, Dolin de Chambery Blanc Vermouth

Last night after the ToDO bash, I accompanied some friends to Curio, the new bar owned by and attached to… 

These Magrittean chapeaux provoked some knowing smiles

This kind of wacky animal head thing (a la Freeman’s in NYC) is also emblematic of the genre…

…as are the kind of “artisanal/specialized/form-fitting” ice cubes seen in the above intriguing Curio cocktails (the green curiosity is a most unusual margarita made with—prepare to gasp—kale and ginger; its partner, a summery Italian-style refresher called the Silver Dollar Pony, reminds me a lot of something I drank in Venice).  

To hell with silly and chilly New Year’s Eve, I think most chowhounds around town observe the significant passage of time with the annual arrival of another wonderful springtime Taste of Dine Originals party. Since this must-attend, May-staple event is happening again Thursday, that means local farmers markets are now up and running and patios are buzzing as we all warmly welcome—with open arms and “opener” mouths—the most delicious and fun time of the year kicked off by the most delicious and fun soiree of the year.

Here are some of the official details (ticket info is at the end of this post): The 2012 chapter of ToDO (featuring fabulous food from our fifty best restaurants!) is taking place this Thursday, May 10, from 6-9:30pm at its new location, Capital University’s Capital Center. Once again the very worthy beneficiary of the proceeds is The Buckeye Ranch.  

Here’s a peek at some of last year’s delectable treats    

Deepwood’s take on carpaccio

Basi Italia’s Polenta

Basi’s Peas & Parmesan

Pistacia Vera Macarons

Hungry yet? Get your tickets here and remember, the dough goes to a really great cause! 

See you there (FYI: the weather’s gonna comply with clear skies and temps in the mid 60s).

I’ve had a bumpy couple of weeks. Don’t ask!

Anyway, I’ll spare you the gories, but suffice it to say—and heed this warning!—a shady youth spent addicted to fancy pastries will come back to haunt you. But prior to this recent excruciating period (of swallowing—almost exclusively—smoothies, soups, and pain pills) I had some fun. Here’s a look:

I once got wobbly drunk at a bullfight and gobbled a pork rind the size of my hotel pillow (if I had a peso for every time I said this…just kidding, but heavily imbibing was the only way I could survive that odd yet riveting ritual of casual brutality). Anyway, that massive, sun-drenched snack was conjured back in my head when I spied these gigantic chicharrones at La Plaza Tapatia—an amazing Mexican supermarket that can provide hours of wide-eyed fascination.   

Even shopping for laundry detergent is more fun and colorful there.

Also fun and colorful: the daily buffet ($10) at the restaurant located right in the store. While that food is far from fancy, it’s worth an authenticity-seeking pilgrimage because some of the fare there is a lot like what I’ve eaten in Mexico City in diner-style restaurants. And heck, its steaming and supple homemade tortillas alone would make it worth a visit.

I wrote about La Plaza Tapatia in this week’s Alive (Hints: if ordering off the menu, try the enormous—and enormously delicious—molcajete; and pass on the uncharacteristically disappointing margaritas in lieu of, say, micheladas (sorta beery Bloody Marys) and/or Mexican beers w/sides of tequila. 

Another real-deal market/restaurant is La Favorita, a dinky place (next to Anna’s “A Taste of Greece”—I laugh every single time I think of that quote-yoked self-description) that, again, makes great diner-y Mexican vittles.

Above is a knockout bowl of soulful lamb soup that makes me shake my head and pound on the table when I greedily slurp it up (note: the menu says it’s made with “chivo,” or goat, but that’s not usually the case). It’s kinda like posole—a gloriously intense meat-laden broth studded with hominy and self-detailed with chilis, lime, cilantro, onions and so forth. This stuff is awesome! 

Continuing in the key of awesome was this powerhouse version of pasta carbonara fashioned with perfect homemade noodles, a local egg plus killer house-cured “lambcetta” and more raciness from chili flakes. I ate it with extreme relish at Knead, where I and some friends also enjoyed…

…one of Knead’s terrific burgers—made with great Pat LaFrieda beef, of course!

Not being a group intimidated by a swarm of food, we likewise eagerly dug into Knead’s spicy and satisfying chili relleno.

But wait, there’s more! Like Ray Ray’s at Ace of Cups sucked back with a gin-based Mai Tai starring the dynamic duo of Ransom Old Tom (love it!) and (cucumber-y) Hendricks gin (more love), along with homemade orgeat syrup. This delightful drink is what happens when kitschy tiki gets taken seriously—and I applaud it thoroughly!

WARNING: the next photo contains graphic and potentially disturbing images! 

With this bit of cotton candy-fueled hubris, we circle back to the dangers of a misspent youth. Yeah, its all sugary fun and games now, but in a couple of decades…well I guess some people just have to find out for themselves why dentists often own yachts.

For those more open to the hard won lessons of others, though, I present this loony blue picture as a cautionary tale of reaping what you sow!  

I dug into the above beautiful hunks of insanely tender ham on Easter Sunday, and sometimes I think I can still detect its powerfully sweet, smoky and salty scent wafting off my now-lonely fingers. Praise be to the lord indeed! Anyway, it came from Ray Ray’s and is very special meat.

Speaking of such special meats…tomorrow, Ray Ray’s (of “Hog Pit” and altogether killer barbecue fame) begins his reign at his new home-base location at Ace of Cups. Bonus: with these roomier digs, RR will be serving through two windows to double his speed and halve your wait.

Bonus #2: To celebrate this launch, Ace of Cups will be opening at lunchtime (it usually opens at 4:00) all weekend, thereby observing hours that coincide with RR’s billowing set-up (i.e.  the source of love letters to the neighborhood delivered via smoke signals). This means if you show up anytime after high noon this weekend, you can take your wonderful food inside of AoC, cop a squat (weather permitting, the patio will be the place to be), order a lubricating alcoholic beverage, and have access to bathrooms as well as great music. Now that’s my idea of food cart dining!

Will this brilliant all day bar-and-barbecue policy continue? Maybe, maybe not—I suppose showing up and voicing your pleasure might help.

In more meals-on-wheels news, the above sandwich tasted even better than it looks—and it looks damn good, right?. It came from PerZoot, a newish and terrific Italian food truck (how rare is that?) that makes excellent focaccia sandwiches like this killer Tacchino (pronouncement hints: “ch” in Italian is always pronounced like a “k,” and most Italian words are accented on the penultimate syllable).

Note that PerZoot’s amusing name is Mean Streets-like slang for prosciutto (BTW: I’m referring to the brilliant, sad and hilarious breakout Scorsese movie from the early ’70s about NYC’s “Little Italy” toughguys—the flick’s currently in rotation on, I think, Cinemax; this is good news for spendthrift cable addicts like me, who PAY THROUGH THE NOSE FOR EVERY FRIGGIN’ CHANNEL ON THE PLANET ).

Anyway, the delightful PerZoot truck is a stylish wheeled sandwich-maker that bakes its own focaccia, on which they assemble their flavor-bomb sandwiches. Though their  softer-than-classic (which makes sense for a sandwich ) rosemary-kissed and perfectly salted focaccia sometimes deliquesces under the weight of PerZoot’s totally homemede roasts and garnishes, it’s very good stuff (yet more Italian trivia: focaccia gets its name from the Latin word, “focus”, which means hearth, which is where the ancient Romans actually baked it—I learned this from the great Marcella Hazan’s books).

Here’s my review of PerZoot in this week’s Alive

Another wonderful newcomer to the local food scene is El Arepazo’s inspired Gahanna branch called Arepazo Tapas & Wine. Their no BS sangria tastes like nice, “everyday” Spanish garnacha wine simply accented with fruit. Yet more good stuff. 

Also seriously good are these real-deal, Spanish-style tapas (BTW: I’ve eaten things exactly like this in Spain, where they are about as common in bars/cafes as chips and pretzels are in the states). On the left is Spanish-style chorizo with its delicious fattiness partially tamed by an acidic red wine sauce; on the right are clean-tasting shrimp boldly flavored with garlic, chile flakes and butter. No, they’re not big earth- shaking snacks, but they certainly are classic and enticing flavor-forward tidbits that go great with adult beverages and juvenile conversation (if you’re sitting with me, that is).

Though grazing on tapas and sipping on sangria (or good—i.e. not sweet!—Latin American cocktails) is a highly recommended way to have a helluva festive time at this super-fun new Arepazo, they also have stuff like the above Cuban sandwich—and I like their take on the sometimes-called media noche (literally “middle of the night”, i.e. midnight snack).

In arriving properly toasted and smashed (thereby concentrating the filling’s flavors and providing fun crunching textures) and made with pulled pork, pickles, melted cheese, mustard, what seemed like a sorta garlicky tomato relish plus slivers of what the menu called “Serrano ham,” (but tasted kinda like capicola) it gracefully—and tastefully!— danced around a boundary between classic and eccentric.

Read the rest of my review and see some mouth-watering photos at columbusalive.com

Bored last week, we found ourselves shopping for bargains at the amusingly downscale Marc’s, where smart consumers can score big on great deals.

In search of yet more econo-wise fun in the same strip mall, we decided our next diversion should include things that were swallow-able; cue to this meal-in-itself appetizer platter.

This assemblage of mostly fried stuff kicked off a breezy and take-it-easy evening of eating cheaply, having drinks, and casually catching some sports outside on an early spring night. We ordered the above starter at…

…Banh Thai Bistro, which has gotta be one of the oddest eateries in the area. Wild looking  inside (even borderline psychedelic), it’s also got a wacky little patio where you can leisurely sip Singha beers while your baseball team does a stink-up job on convenient out-of-doors TVs. Oh yeah, and you can eat other decent Thai food out there, like the above larb, which tasted good even if the ground chicken meat was a bit overcooked.

Now cut to a scene Downtown.

“You keep your wife’s name out of this, Ashby!” is surely timeless and sage advice. However, since I’m not Ashby, it doesn’t pertain to me and this post. 

This is one of many classic New Yorker-style cartoons (BTW: I’ve been reading and loving that magazine since I was in junior high school) penned by James Thurber, whose name has been appropriated by the restaurant in which it hangs inside of the Great Southern Westin hotel (where a wealth of  other Thurber ‘toon prints are also viewable; note the grand old Great Southern was originally built in the late 19th century). Said restaurant—Thurber’s bar—was the subject of my review in this week’s Alive.

Thurber’s Bar has recently rolled out a new menu, and it’s definitely got some worthy stuff on it. For instance, calamari has obviously been done to death, but the above version stands out for its pleasantly salty crunchiness and for the sheer meatiness of its perfectly fried big, juicy and thick hunks of squid. It comes with a fairly sweet fig and cinnamon sauce it doesn’t need, and in fact was the kind of thing I’d occasionally re-dunk the sea-meat into just to revisit the weird sensation it created in my mouth. (Unless you’re easily amused by things that mildly put you off, like I am, I suggest you skip it and opt instead for a more appropriate squirt of lemon)

The spinach salad here also rose above the norm—we also dug the bitter brightness of the preserved lemon garnish it comes with. 

A couple days later on a Saturday afternoon, our salads came from the great Harvest Pizzeria. Both of these (arugula with housemade ricotta and a Greek-ish “chopped”) were top-notch, plus they’re steals at only $2, when ordered with a $7 (another steal) lunchtime pizza. And they go swimmingly with…

…Mason jars (still au courant, n’est pas?) filled with relaxing Saturday afternoon beers…

… which also hit the sweet spot with our Saturday afternoon pizzas.

This was a halftime refresher between visits to the Riffe Center’s smartly curated 100 Years of Columbus Art show and the terrific—and fairly comprehensive, and thus very rare—David Smith exhibit at the Wexner Center (whose intriguing premise was that the titanic Ohio-born abstract sculptor was more influenced by the social and geometric idealism of the Russian constructivists than he was by his AbEx contemporaries, as is often contended); both the “100 years” and David Smith shows have just concluded their runs (you missin’-out slackers).

OK, by now you must be ready for some canine cameos, right? Well then, you’re in luck.

What? Do you have something for us? You can see us, right? 

This was yet more Saturday afternoon art—a “drive-thru” performance that was part of a dog-sitting day my wife happily called the “Flo & O Show” aka “A Visit from Cousin Oliver.”

In lieu of applause, the wife and I generously handed out much-appreciated biscuits. 

If you’d like your Ray Ray’s BBQ with more parking space and extra squatting options plus a dose of real rock ’n’ roll and/or a cold beer now and then — well, you’re in luck. In three weeks — end of April — Ray Ray is taking his smoking set up to Ace of Cups. More delicious details to follow….

Garage Bar is like a playground for adults, where booze and great food fuel the good times—we popped in for this brunch:

A Bloody Mary (damn spicy) or three garnished with monster-sized chilled Gulf shrimp helped me ease my unsteady way into a rocky morning after a particularly wild Louisville night 

Poached Eggs & Country Ham with Weisenberger grits and red-eye gravy was a revelation and a red-eyed, day after—curing miracle; the salty country ham around these parts is a must!

The Monte Cristo pizza fashioned with house-cured prosciutto, gouda, sorghum and runny local eggs on a blistered, chewy and thin handmade pizza crust is everything salty, sweet, rich, cheesy and starchy a morning penitent needs.

Unless you’ve also got Shuckman’s smoked salmon with cream cheese and a much-too-rare homemade bialy (with a crater studded with capers and so forth) that I’d eat every morning if I could

But what’s an indulgent brunch without a gloriously gratuitous dessert course? This Belgian Waffle with pecans and (of course!) ridiculously good “bacon marmalade” was our lily-gilder.

Click for more photos of Garage Bar at night

The Blind Pig was our first stop (it keeps all-day hours) on our annual pilgrimage to Louisville for the Humana Theater Festival (which we’ve been going to for almost a decade). Here’s a taste of a late afternoon perk-me-up.

The Pig is a good representative of this New Orleans-meets-Austin-in-Kentucky city of  fun/art/great food and drink (like an ocean of bourbon) and racy touches of Appalachian funk plus Southern-style grandeur.

This terrific gingered-up cocktail (New Wave Old Fashioned) was as potent as it was delicious.

Also gleefully knocked back were these: Campari Sour (tart, bitter, refreshingly Italian, and smooth from a foam-creating shake with egg whites) and Penny Paloma (like a fizzy margarita)

We also dipped into these booze-soaker-uppers (it was about 4 p.m. and we still had two plays and a big dinner awaiting us later that long and outrageously fun evening): Mussels—big, juicy and fresh-tasting—cascaded with with an avalanche of garlic, onions and a pesto cream sauce (great to sop up with crusty, locally made Blue Dog Bakery bread); in the background are killer, crispy cornmeal-jacketed fried oysters.

The house mascot is also representative—of Louisville’s funky sense of humor.

Stay tuned for more!

Questa minestra e molto delizioso!

A couple soups I recently loved at Tasi Cafe (i.e. Rigsby’s without the fuss) were the extremely impressive (above) ribollita (which means reboiled, as in add day-old bread to stretch and thicken yesterday’s minestrone—this usually makes it even better than the day before), which tasted at least as good as versions I’ve had in Tuscany; and…

…this zesty Lentil and Italian sausage.

Like those soups, this refreshing chicken salad (with a light, lively and lemony olive-oil-based dressing) illustrates that Tasi really “gets it” when it comes to basic but really authentic Italian food. By this I mean that the cuisine is based on mostly simple recipes, so to achieve its greatness, you can’t cheap-out on ingredients or take measly shortcuts. 

For more on Tasi—i.e. maybe the best casual restaurant in town—check out my article  in this week’s Alive. 

OK, time for intermission.

Since I don’t think I’ve mentioned Flo in a while, I thought I’d give you some catchup news. If at all possible, instead of leaving her home alone, we take her wherever we go. Because restaurants practice canine discrimination, though, she often has to wait for us outside. This frequently results in Flora keeping an eye on us while we’re eating so she can later critique our table manners (her standards are laughably low).

Speaking of laughably low, when viewed from certain angles, and at certain times in the development of her fuzzy coat, she is very, very entertaining to gaze at (she’s since gotten a clipping).

OK, back to “work.”

Obviously a visit to North Market offers lots of chomping options, recently I went in for…

…some Clever Crow pizza (goat cheese, potatoes and oregano-y stewed tomatoes) with one of their excellent little house salads (you can get this combo for like $6 or so)…

…and I also visited Jerry from Kitchen Little—who’s my old hiking and wine-drinking bud from a long time ago (but whom I rarely see since he’s produced a brood of needy little humans) for some of his rich, wine-y and terrific bison stew (think Boeuf Bourguignon Ohio-style) and his outrageous version of Chinese fried rice—made with duck eggs and cooked in luscious duck fat, of course. 

Now that spring has officially begun, I feel like we dodged a frosty bullet. See, I quit romanticizing about winter a long time ago. Oh, sure the snow is pretty—for about a week—but then the relentless brutality sets in. Here’s a few walking-outdoor-friendly activities I’ve been enjoying during the end of this winter of our much content.

On the eve of the Bucks’ scary matchup with UC, I thought I’d mention that a few days ago, I spent untold hours glued to hoops while intentionally stranded in a windowless arena on a couple glorious “late winter” afternoons. This actually had a mesmerizing effect on me I quite enjoyed; it was like the rest of life just faded away, and there was only this game, this crew of people, this inordinately solid chunk of moments in the hurtling spill of liquid time.  

We came up for air—and back to real life—with a dee-licious happy hour visit to Knead, where our pig-out began with the appropriately named Porky Pie (Berkshire pork, house-cured bacon, ham, poblanos, Chipotle bbq sauce and a literal ton more) sold at a laughable HH $5. Also costing 5 beans was a slew of fortifying drinks to tide us over for the upcoming night session at the booze-free arena (though I did notice some unscrupulous types—possibly some among us—blithely wielding flasks in there).

I’m a pasta- maniac, and fat handmade noodles like this Asparagus Pappardelle also bring out the curly-tailed pig in me…

…ditto for this terrific Rutabaga Ravioli—homemade sausage, rich tomato sauce, cooked-down kale…

…and this ShamaLamBa (Colorado lamb shoulder, chimichurri, oven-dried tomato jam, pickled onion) made me wanna dance…

…but instead, I leaned over and ripped into this Knead “Brueben” (stout-braised Pat La Freida beef shortrib with kraut, Guggisberg swiss, “1002 Island” sauce, homemade wheat caraway  bread), and it was a brewtiful chew indeed.

Speaking of brewti…, uh, beautiful, a visit to our Franklin Park Conservatory is always a transporting experience

And Thursdays present intensely beautiful deals there, as the $11 entrance fee is effectively offset with $10 worth of drink and snack tokens (try the guacamole).

Staring long into the above orchids while standing still in a quiet room—intensely funneling deeply into the furiously colored flowers—made us think of that remarkable Rilke poem “Core of the rose” (it goes something like: Where is to this inner an outer/On what ache do they lay such linen/ And what heavens are mirrored within it/ The sheltered lake of these open roses) 

More orchids

A different flavor of strangeness came with these other bursts of color—which were accompanied by intermittent blasts of vertigo-inducing screeching that emanated from these caged macaws—hanging out with them for a while is really a wild little experience 

Coy koi

But back to my mouth…I love Korean food, but until a recent visit to Diaspora a couple weeks ago, I always felt befuddled by the cruel dearth of refreshing and thematically correct Korean beer to enjoy with the famously salty, sweet and spicy stuff. Thank you Diaspora for finally, finally, finally bringing in OB (i.e. the dry suds David Chang ostensibly drinks all day) 

It went great with this spicy Heart Attack Roll we dug into, whose charms—while real—were fortunately not as arresting as advertised. And of course there was…

…the requisite banchan…

Plus this steaming pot of gurgling hot love (Kimchi Jjigae)—for which the OB was much appreciated.

As I look at this picture, it occurs to me that this is exactly the kind of dish people love to dig into during nippy weather—well I’m here to testify that to me, it tastes even better when eaten in shorts.

A couple nights ago, the ’Wood delivered several courses of deep flavors at a surprisingly shallow cost. In fact I’d say its $20 special menu has to be one of the go-to deals of the week. Here’s a peek:

Since we were sharing everything and serial-eating that night (i.e. dining at multiple restaurants) and the bargain was so basement-like, we “splurged” $9 extra on the rich, tart, sweet, Asian, European, crunchy, creamy, subtle and assertive Duck, Duck, Duck starter—fun!

And, man, this mostly housemade charcuterie plate was a beauty well-worth the $8 upcharge! 

The hits kept rolling in with this sage-kissed veal meatloaf plopped atop lovely, coarse polenta and plate-lick-worthy shiitakes awash in butter and Marsala wine; call it a nimble re-saddling of an old Italian-American warhorse.

Dessert was a root beer “bombe” that, though it didn’t live up to its predecessors, was nonetheless eaten in its entirety.

Flip Side Burgers has brought its high-concept, Ohio-raised, grass-fed, and altogether brainy burger operation to Easton, and based on last night’s dinner, it’s fair to say I’m excited about this place. Here’s a taste:  

Light and crisp tempura-battered fat shiitake caps and asparagus spears served with a fish-saucy sweet Thai chili dip. If you’re getting the notion now that this place ain’t your typical burger shop, you are most certainly correct.

Juicy Flip Side burger with sharp, two-year old aged cheddar, thick and crispy bacon and “charred balsamic vinegar red onions” (think French onion soup) on a dry-toasted, semi-sweet brioche roll. Uh-huh.

Bun-soaking and lusty Curry Lamb Burger with cuminy, curry yogurt slaw!

Triple-cooked fries with garlic chips that, after a head-swivel-provoking first bite alerted us to its delicious lardy cooking medium—a fact verified (but not advertised) by our friendly waiter.

Another thing I love about this place—really great shakes made with top-notch ingredients that you can improve by… wait for it…adding booze! I’ve seen this kind of brilliance in other cities (Baltimore comes to mind), but this was the first time I’ve encountered it in C-bus. The lovely slurp up top is a killer Medjool date/vanilla bean/bacon-infused vodka number—though wish I picked-up more of that latter component, the drink was outstanding!

This Flipper is the second of its kind, the first being in Hudson, Ohio. After eating here, not only am I eager to return (Bonuses: Full bar and Cavs on flatscreens), but I hope this company lives long, prospers, and reproduces heavily.

When I heard a handful of people comparing Papaya St. Grill in Dublin to Chipotle (but done Southeast Asian style), not only was I less than thrilled to check the place out, but frankly I thought “Who gives a flying pho?”

I mean Chipotle—and its legions of unoriginal copycats—have clearly tapped into an obviously successful and certainly zeitgeist-y business model, but though self-designed, trough-accessorized, inexpensive meals can provide quick and functional lunches, they’re hardly anything to get exercised over, right?  

But still more highly positive Papaya buzz continued to leak out to me. Then one afternoon, a good pal of mine texted me that he was loving him some Papaya Grill, and I needed to get up to speed on this place. Well, not only was that guy right, but I soon learned that all those Chipotle comparisons were overstated. See, not only does PSG have plenty of actual menu items, but it’s also got a chef (who used to captain the fine Thai Taste on Kenny Road).

Here’s a peek  

PSG’s refreshing—if very not spicy— take on the papaya salad straddles the culinary line between the preferred Vietnamese style (with mint and cilantro) and a more Thai style (with tomato)

This was the one Chipotle-esque order we ate. It was made by choosing: a (brown rice) “Bowl” —which came with simply but pleasant-enough steamed veggies; one of about a dozen ready-to-go sauces—we went with the aggressively bright (in a good way) lemongrass; and a protein—in our case it was very nicely fried tofu (warm, crispy outside, but creamy inside). This big bowl of health was a thumbs up, but…  

…not nearly as memorable as this “Hawaiian Seoul” sandwich…or…

…this knockout dessert—“Roti with condensed milk” and “Ube” ice cream (ube’s a purple tuber beloved by Filipinos)

Expect more in an upcoming Alive

Here’s some more musings on my new favorite restaurant, which I reviewed in last week’s Alive 

Till’s the kinda place where tofu’s actually a thrill to eat instead of some healthy but boring (at best) food you choke back to feel virtuous — as this Fresh Tofu + Festival Rice attests. Made-to-order out of soy milk, arriving surprisingly warm and yogurty, and served with the perfect foil of a sushi-riffing, pickly, crunchy and sesame oil-annointed edamame salad with a killer little miso sauce, it’s a real revelation of a dish…  

…as was this terrific, and crisply bottom-seared Scrapple “Mole” with Spinach. The first time I ate it, it was sorta terrine-like, made with scraps of biodynamic beef tongue and heart (sounds like a long-lost Captain Beefheart record, no?), house-smoked ham and organic chicken; the second time it was much more polenta-like and made with all pork. Both times, it was outstanding, and I loved how the acidic, sauteed spinach put the richness of cornmeal and meat into high relief. Bonus: it made me think about that great tune (Scrapple from the Apple) by the genius Charlie Parker. 

This “Commissary Meal” of vegan Goulash with a lovely salad (the latter sported greens that had no right to be so tender in the dead of winter—albeit a winter of unending spring fever-y weather) is an example of Till’s under $10 lunch specials (2 courses served with a send-you-off-with-a-smile chewy and citrusy sugar cookie when I had ‘em)  

Commissary Meal #2 (i.e. the meat option) was this beautiful Chicken Linguini with handmade egg noodles and super-tender chicken slivers whose elegance, freshness and simplicity momentarily took me back to Italy.

See you soon at Till! 

I just realized I had some blog-ready photos of some of Bodega’s food whose pictures and/or fuller descriptions didn’t make it into my Alive article. Since I hate wasting food, here they are.

Mussels & Fries—a rich and delicious re-working of the Belgian favorite with great fries, good and thick bacon bits plus a mess-tastic and addictive blue cheese sauce

Shrimp & Grits—simple, hearty and stupid cheap (as are many things on this newish menu) at $7

Chicken Wings—love that un-breaded crispy skin, light smears of jerk sauce over a zesty spice-dusting and the big-boy size

Orange Fennel salad: pretty, extremely refreshing and one of the better versions around, chomping on this salad is a great and non-cavity-generating way to end a meal

Chicken Tikka + Lamb Kebobs—both tender, both juicy and both fun

Crawfish Etouffe Napoleon—loved the contrast between the super-crispy, cornmeal-battered okra clumps and the stacked and “etoufeed” (i.e. “sauce-smothered”) rice and bean polenta cakes

Bombay Burger— MMMMMbai!

Latitude 41 seems to get better each time I dine there lately. Case in point: Last Friday, as part of a very successful attempt to stretch their birthday celebrations into weeklong Bacchanals, two shameless celebrants in our party picked Lat 41 for their last (last, I tell you!) B-day blowout, and everything was terrific .

After enjoying a few of Lat’s inventive cocktails fashioned by Nicolene Schwartz, the place’s reigning libation queen (like the mouth-walloping “Kentucky Margarita” made with bourbon and jalapeno) we tucked into these beauties.  

A wildly inspired Chicken and Waffles (I think the latter were courtesy of Taste of Belgium) that was sweet and spicy as expected, but also loaded with an unlikely—but much appreciated, and a combo that counterintuitively worked!—slew of roasty vegetables (left) and  excitingly bright sauteed kale (right). We loved this so much I feel compelled to write about it soon (look for it in Alive).

We also buzz-sawed through this delightful arugula salad with beet & goat cheese roulade…

… a rich and witty clam “chowder” fettuccini…

…a lovely—and rare—roasted walu (think sea bass but “steakier”) with Brussels sprouts and a brilliant and jam-like eggplant confit… 

…a speaks-for-itself-natural beef tenderloin with a crazy-great vidalia onion gratin…

…and a flavor-bomb hangar steak with roasted cauliflower, pommes puree and chimichurri sauce.

Post redoubtable repast, my wife (she was one of the “it’s my party, I’ll splurge if I want to” non-paying “guests-of-honor”) made this request of our server: “A dessert drink, not too sweet, no nutty liqueurs.” Her wish quickly materialized into a created-on-the-spot fantastic Nicolene special (con mosco!) featuring cardamom-infused cognac, aged rum, (espresso-infused?) maple syrup, and lime. 100% on the mark!

To accompany that heady quaff, there was this rich, dense, buttery and altogether awesome sticky toffee pudding (!!) that the belated birthday girl (with smoldering eyes that might best be described as resembling a ferocious lioness protecting her newborn cubs from encroaching—and poorly informed—weak-ass, would-be predators) barely allowed us near. Sure, we were permitted to sample the brittle and ice cream a bit, but any attempts at more than the tiniest nibble of the cake itself resulted in guttural growls, baring of teeth, and brutal fork-wielding.

Oh, come on…I’m just teasing, it wasn’t actually like that at all. But, that’s my silly way of trying to say Happy Valentine’s Day, honey!

Last week, Ace of Cups was the scene for a terrific mini pop-up restaurant event. The occasion was a shared birthday party for a few AoC mainstays who suddenly realized they’d been born on the very same day. Crazy, huh?

Anyway, after orally ransacking the crave-tastic little snacks, we all agreed this needed to happen more often—fortunately, that seems to be a distinct possibility now.

Here’s a peek at the tiny but super satisfying feast—which included a sorta explosive and fatty ssam, crunchy riffs on arancini, and a crisp and palate-refreshing veggie-laden crostini. 

Clockwise from front: soft and comforting steamed bun with pork belly, scallion soy sauce, pickled cucumbers; crunchy toasted brioche enlivened by white beans, artichokes, arugula, parmesan-lemon dressing; Jambalaya balls (maybe my fave of the night, they were assembled with shrimp and smoky handmade andouille sausage) with a tangy remoulade sauce.

The dynamic duo of food artists who cooked-up these tongue-tinglers was Chris Frey (you might’ve seen her at the nifty Barrel and Bottle) and Steve Nicholson (from the always good Flatiron).

As of now, Chris and Steve are calling their roving restaurant The Outpost—look for it coming soon to an event near you.

As the birthday soiree roared on, things got kinda blurry, but it sure was a lotta fun (I think)! 

Restaurant consistency is a prickly issue. Sometimes I think eating out is like spinning a roulette wheel: Which version of of that dish, heck, that entire eatery will show up this time? Because I can say with certainty that I’ve experienced major service glitches and off-dishes in all of the very best restaurants in town save for Kihachi and The Refectory.

Where am I going with this? Well I just read a less-than-favorable review of a new place—Ella—that I favorably reviewed this week (considering I work for the same company but work completely independently from the other reviewer, I guess it’s that great roulette wheel in the sky spinning away again). Anyway, in the other review, there was much damning-to-Ella talk about long waits and too much salt. On multiple visits, I didn’t experience any of that—and I’m keenly attuned to excessive salting and I hate waiting for anything. Believe me, I do not for a second doubt the veracity or validity of the other reviewers’ impressions—they simply do not match up with mine.

Here’s a few leftover impressions of what I did experience from the nifty Ella (a new New Albany restaurant-slash-art gallery) that, due to word count and paper space restrictions, didn’t make it into this week’s Alive. 

Ella’s Whisky-Fix Manhattan was one of the better versions I’ve had lately. Complex and balanced, it was made with Booker’s Bourbon, killer Cocchi vermouth, Grand Marnier and one of those great Luxardo cherries (pictured is a half pour — they kindly split it for us).

Not pictured: a sweet-ish (it’d be good with dessert) Tessora Fiore. Made with Watershed gin, Tessora Limone (which the friendly waiter informed us was New Albany’s biggest export—surely a short list!), fresh lime juice and hibiscus flower powder, it tasted kinda like a spiked fresh lemonade. 

This picture of Ella’s Pork “Wings” captures the restaurant’s occasional—but not silly!— sense of whimsy. Made with locally raised pig meat, (this place—which employs talented chefs drawn in from G.Michael’s and Z Cucina— is all all about the local) they’re carved to kinda resemble chicken wings, and instead of a blue cheese sauce, they’re paired with a tangy sauce (it looks a bit like mustard in the picture) said to be made with molten Manchego cheese.  

Maybe this poutine-like appetizer special was called “Canadian Hockey Fries” because the jo-jo potatoes it was made with were the size of hockey sticks. Fun, and I loved the housemade mozzarella curds.

The entree sandwiches on Ella’s manageable one page menu (like this terrific smoked chicken breast) come with enticingly crispy, dark cooked and ungreasy housemade chips with a little—but not overplayed—edge of sweetness.  

But if you want, you can sub in an alternate side with your sandwich, like this generously sized serving of buttery and nicely al dente seasonal vegetables (it being being winter, they were roasted Brussels sprouts, carrots, potatoes and onions—simple but nice).

This nightly dessert special, which sort of looked like a Faberge egg, lived up to its presentation by delivering a little treasure of flavor. It’s a port wine poached pear served with crunchy, candied almonds and a smooth “Tessora white chocolate sabayon” (a custardy French sauce derived from the Italian Zabaglione). Though the pear could’ve been cooked longer (we needed a knife to slice through it), this was my kind of meal-finisher: Aromatic, not sweet; refreshing, not heavy.

On an ending note, I’d like to mention that during one dinner at Ella, a well-dressed and very sincere lady quietly approached our table and asked about our meals (for the record: I never introduce myself and make every possible attempt to dine anonymously). I told her our meals were great—which they were.  She shook our hands, thanked us, and informing us that she was Hayley, the owner, she went on to say “This place is my lifeblood.”

Till refers to a passage of time and what you do to soil and, now, an edgy and potentially game-changing Columbus restaurant. My first taste of Till the restaurant—Magdiale Wolmark’s (i.e. the mad scientist/vanguard artist and restlessly creative chef at the former Dragonfly) new project— was a cocktail called “The Village Cobbler.” It was fairly emblematic of what Till is getting at: The new new is the old old. See, cobbler quaffs (and alcoholic punches, which are also on Till’s drinks menu) actually pre-date classic cocktails, and hence are of current interest to Wolmark because, let’s face it, “classic” is being done to death everyplace else. This particular libation was made with whiskey, port wine, gritty date sugar and blood orange; it tasted great—barely sweet, fruity, full-bodied and refreshing. 

Beer cocktails and smoky scotches ain’t really my thing, but I’m not the kind of tippler crippled by a one-note thirst. In other words, I like to and want to experience everything. Till’s Winter Over (which I assume alludes to protective measures taken for plants in an attempt to help them endure harmful weather) is like a tonic to fortify imbibers through the dark months. It was made with Lagavulin, pilsner and a caramelized lemon and was an interesting ride indeed. The Islay liquor gave it a “tire on fire” aspect, the pilsner smoothed it out (plus I like the family tree links— scotch is basically distilled beer), but the caramelized lemon in the bottom was probably my favorite thing here. Would I make it at home? Probably not. Would I drink it at Till again? Absolutely! I consider it part of the unique Till experience.  

Who doesn’t love a cheese puff? No one I wanna know. Basically a gougere filled with a puddle of molten gorgonzola dolce, this shows Till’s pronounced French influences. (Analogy alert!) See, whereas Asian and Mediterranean influences seeped deeply into Dragonfly, Till is more informed by a classic French countryside style.

Another thing about Till: It thrills in doing things the hard way. Witness this BD Cheesesteak (Till aspires to wholly use and thoroughly embraces ingredients raised using complicatedly super-organic “biodiversity” farming techniques), which was made with beef tongue from a cow lugged home from New York by the chef himself. See, Wolmark has been going around and personally inspecting/severely assessing farms to find sourcing partners who suit his ridiculously high standards (this, and a completely made-from-scratch aesthetic help explain this sandwich’s $16 price tag). There simply is nothing like this sandwich in town—or, actually, in any other town I know of. Its juicy and rather thickly sliced tongue meat tasted like great roast beef with an intriguing and undeniable undercurrent of funk. Slammed onto a terrific and crusty housemade bun, it was slathered in a Taleggio cheese sauce and leavened and sweetened some by horseradish and sauteed onions. It was an earthy, lusty and glorious mess to chomp. 

My favorite dish of the night was this “Organic Ham Plate.” Once again, Wolmark took pains to locate a pig supplier and, of course, he smoked the meat himself. Notice its coloration—the smoky ham flavor was mostly limited to the darkly tinted rim; the interior meat tasted of lovely and lean roasted pork, and the porcine au jus was subtle yet sublime. Like the cheesesteak, it was served with an herby (rosemary-forward) succotash and lightly blistered and quite al dente Brussels sprouts.

Open only a couple days, I’m sure Till and its menu will continue to evolve. But based on my first impressions, I find this place to be downright exciting and the closest thing we have to an up-to-the-minute-hip-Brooklyn-patterned restaurant.

Apart from the obvious—cooking meat!— other new developments are: wines on tap (like I’ve had in New York at Colicchio & Sons, and a “first in Ohio” participant in the inspired “Gotham Project”) which will soon hopefully include some of Ohio’s best (Kinkead Ridge and Firelands); and a happy hour (at last!!!!).

Expect an Alive review when Till gets settled in better. ’Till then, I’ll see you at Till…   

“History is that certainty produced at the point where the imperfections of memory meet the inadequacies of documentation.”

Those are some of the ironically memorable words that the great Julian Barnes put into the mouth of the smartest person (and there are a lot of smart people there) in his magnetic “The Sense of an Ending” — the most densely intelligent little novel written last year (it deservedly won the Man Booker prize). I mention this because perhaps by blogging about a riotously fun weekend I just experienced I can in effect extend its life beyond imperfect memory. See, last weekend was the best!

It all started (as do most great weekends), on the Thursday night before, when I found myself (quite uncharacteristically) knocking back $2 “sake bombs” and (much more characteristically) biting into these tiny and juicy Japanese-style  kabobs—which are some of the offerings from the wackily named “Section 8 Yakitorium,” the newest Freshstreet/Foodie Cart crew project.

Located in the racily red, kitschily Asian, yet big-city suave Double Happiness bar and music club—where enthrallingly dance-mad “Best of Soul Train” clips routinely play on a flatscreen and John Coltrane, Stereolab and Jesus Lizard hold forth on the terrific, if not quite up-to-date jukebox—Section 8 Yakitorium’s fittingly artful menu is written in charcoal (the tools of S8Y’s trade— they use imported “bincho” oak coals to create their distinctly oak-scented, tapas-sized skewers).

You can nibble on sticks flush with tongue-n-cheek (in beef and/or pork forms) at S8Y or chomp on less “challenging” grilled bits or enjoy non-barbecued items like this comforting, hot cereal-like and konbu brothy winner (Ume Chazuke).

Read more about S8Y in tomorrow’s Alive.

Friday, we went to see the riveting “Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy”—a fascinating maze of a movie depicting bleak and duplicitous people in the spy game of a bleached-out England (and Europe) of the 70s. I love bleak movies — not so much because they validate some kind of steely-eyed view of humanity — but because they oxymoronically cheer me up (I find flicks like, say, “E.T.” un-watchably depressing and silly).

What also cheers me up is dinner at Alana’s (note: the shadowy light that adds to Alana’s allure unfortunately detracts from the quality of photos snapped of her lusty cuisine).    

These wine, butter and garlic (i.e a reliable holy trinity of flavoring agents) sauced scallops rocked my day boat.

Opting for the “What’s Behind Door #3” unspecified special, we asked Kevin to select a good-priced wine that wouldn’t clash with our unknown entree — when this fine and versatile Rosso di Montalcino emerged, I assumed (and had been secretly hoping all along) that we’d be eating red meat. 

Our fun little dinnertime guessing game concluded (and believe me, we won!) when this wonderfully unctuous veal shank and fragrant saffron risotto was presented to us. Since it was gently graced with Indian spices (which helped leaven its richness), I called the dish “Osso Buco Goes to Mumbai.” Lovely!

After dinner, we met up with friends and drank (much too much) Champagne (the real stuff) late into the night. 

If a guy in a Cardinal’s flowing robes playing with a tattooed man in a dress and a rooster hairdo who’s also wailing and moaning savagely to ferocious and impossibly tight rock-n-roll doesn’t get you revved-up, then we cannot be friends (or at least not close ones). This still picture (courtesy of JD Dallas/rockandrollhighschoolreunion.com) of the otherwise frenetic Econothugs (that name cracks me up to this day) is a glimpse of a magical Saturday night at Ace of Cups. What coulda been a sad retro show of old ’90s bands (most of them packed with pals of mine) was instead a glorious night of fun, weird, often frenzied and consistently engaging music I’ll not soon forget.

Another thing that occurred to me after this exciting show was how so much of today’s music is weak, safe, gimmicky and enervated stuff that rocks out about as much as my grandma—and she’s dead.   

Sunday, after attending a killer surprise birthday party (Delamotte and margaritas poured, real chef-made Mexican food consumed), I went to see the Buckeyes (in an electric and as raucous as I’ve ever seen it Schott) exact revenge on an Indiana team whose insistence on zone defense couldn’t cover up their failure to match up with us athletically.

Our nearly-on-the-floor seats (Where’s Waldo?) were also a prime perch for the halftime show: Urban Meyer introducing his new coaching staff (noteworthy: Gene Smith was outright booed and the biggest applause went Luke Fickell).

Sure, my documentation might be inadequate and my memory is certainly imperfect, but last weekend will still go down in history as a great one for me.

My goal for next weekend: a lotta recliner time and lame praise for HDTV. 

Note: This blog post is titled after the eccentric, profane and pomposity-deflating chuckle-machine that is the calendar I was bestowed with on NYE at the Ace of Cups Envelope show (in addition to being a smart and funny rapper, Envelope’s a great DJ; BTW, his “official calendar” claims that in 2012 “we’re all going to die together”—it’s a must!)

You’ve probably noticed I haven’t been blogging lately, but of course my fearsome appetite has continued to unabatedly run on the high setting. Here’s a few recent conquests.

Last week, everything on the lunch menu at Barcelona was generously half priced. This made for some exciting deals. Above is the Tapas Platter, a collection of salty, rich and bright bites guaranteed to pop open any palate.

But what drew me into the beautiful eatery (I sat in the back, where the fanciful design scheme is obviously “Gustav Klimt painting”) was Barcelona’s new $10 lunch  ”menu del dia” super-deals (these were further discounted to a laughable $5 last week) where you choose an app (from 3 options), main (7 choices) and one of 3 side dishes. Above are the starters we gobbled—tomato soup (my fave), potato croquettes and a nice salad.

The surprisingly huge, dinner-sized entrees included in the $10 meal-deal I tried were: a no-foolin’-around-spicy pasta with stewy tomatoes and chorizo; a paella-like brown rice dish; and crab cakes (my fave that day).

Later that night, I aimed my fiercely kinetic jaws at the new Barrel 44 in Bexley. Replacing the old Bexley Monk, it’s a nice looking joint that, though unabashedly suburban, is more accommodating than B44’s odd digs in the Short North—even if the raucous newbie was jammed-to-the-gills with 40 somethings and instead of, say, the Cramps and Iggy Pop, I heard stuff like the Black Crowes and Stevie Ray Vaughn (wince).

 I tried their duck flatbread (good flavors if a soft crust) and…

…zesty and perfectly cooked blackened scallops (spicy and drizzled w/ a tangy remoulade) as well as B44’s reliably good beef and pork satays.

Not so good at the Bexley B44 that night: a tragically imbalanced Sazerac with no citrus presence and whose rye was wholly masked by bitters and absinthe (I’m gonna chalk it up to being only open 3 days—for now)…

Expect reviews of both of these in upcoming Alives. And hey, when ARE we all gonna eat together in 2012 ?!?               

Chengdu Soft Bean Curd—big blocks of silken tofu thrown into relief by toasted dry soy beans, all of it swamped in a perfumey broth awash in chili oil 

Lamb with Hot Pepper and Cumin—really tender meat explosively seasoned

Diced Chicken with Pickled Chili—more sweet than pickly, and spicy from red pepper flakes

Fortune, an old go-to dim sum and Chinese takeout spot for me until its green health-code sticker turned non-green, is under new ownership (and currently bears a green sticker). The changeover has cuisine consequences as Fortune’s former Cantonese bent has been replaced with a strongly Szechuan one.

I tried it out yesterday and found my dishes to be aggressive, salty and oily. Since that also describes me, we got along great. I look forward to sampling more of its flagrantly spicy fare— stay tuned.