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Tag: Restaurant Reviews

  • Slap Hand-Ripped Noodles are well worth the wait

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    Credit: Faiyaz Kara

    My first visit to Slap Hand-Ripped Noodles happened to be on the night the restaurant (very quietly) opened. I popped in at around 8:30 p.m. — a pit stop on a late-night airport run — and took a seat at an empty booth in a largely empty restaurant. When I left, I was convinced it was the last time I’d shovel their food in such a hushed setting.

    The next day, a wait for a lunchtime seat clocked in at 90 minutes, while an hour-long line — for four hours straight — greeted dinnertime guests. I’m sure the Instagram reel, however amateurish, I posted the night before didn’t help to shorten those queues, but it did reveal the mastery with which chef-owner Eric Yang, who also runs Ma Lu Bian Bian Hot Pot on West Colonial Drive, slapped and ripped those noodles before tossing them into a boiler basket.

    Yang, you see, spent a fair bit of time in Xi’an, the capital city of Shaanxi Province in China, learning the art of ripping noodles and plating them into fetching, meat-filled heaps of pasta-rized porn. If you’re not transfixed by the signature three-way chili slap noodles with sliced pork cooked in vinegar and spices, lightly stewed tomato and egg, and a poached mix of potato, celery and carrot sitting atop biang biang noodles ($17), slap down an extra $8 for a luscious slab of short rib and your order will draw the envy of every waiting customer.

    Slap Hand-Ripped Noodles chili oil dumplings
    Slap Hand-Ripped Noodles dumplings Credit: Faiyaz Kara

    Also in that bowl, apart from the bok choy, sprouts, cilantro, minced garlic and chopped scallions, is a spoonful of pulverized aromatics made from nine secret spices highlighted by the qin chili, a warming pepper, not overpoweringly intense but rich in flavor, that’s native to Shaanxi. Watching the powder being scalded by a pour of hot oil is as deeply gratifying as slurping those exemplary squigglers. Those who relish a bit of sweat trickling down the neck can reach out for the house-made chili oil spiked with 17 different spices. It’s as good as it gets. And really, you can’t miss with any of their noodle bowls — I’ve been just as wowed by the cumin lamb chili slap noodles ($16) as I’ve been by the all-vegetable version ($15). 

    And then there are fried skewers (chuan’r) of the highest order. Both the crispy beef ($6), flattened into mini cutlets before being fried, and the chicken gizzards ($6) are my absolute faves. I was surprised that a lamb skewer — a common sight in Xinjiang, where chuan’r originated — didn’t make the cut. Yang may add them in the coming weeks but, until then, enjoy any of the current 10 skewered options. Well, except maybe the fish tofu ($6). I’d be fine with that one being replaced with lamb. And all skewers are served with two dipping condiments — a sweet chili sauce and a barbecue dry rub made with cumin, chili powder and a bit of MSG. 

    No matter how full you are, just get the beef and onion dumplings ($13) in chili oil. I ran into Palm Beach Meats owner Eric San Pedro on one visit and he and I couldn’t get enough of these meat pockets, even after polishing off our noodle bowls. BTW: It’s always a good idea to have a plate of cooling cucumber-garlic salad ($8) on the table, in case things get overly heated. And a bottle of imported Arctic Ocean ($3.50), the Mexican Coke of orange soda.

    Slap also serves Chinese hamburgers (roujiamao), a trend that’s sure to take off once Chinese chain Bingz establishes its presence in the U.S. I sampled the “crispy pancake” filled with braised beef ($9) and it was satisfying enough. My only issue was with the baijimo — the leavened, paratha-like flatbread sandwiching the meat. Unlike Bingz, the dough here is pre-bought, not made in-house, resulting in a stiff but not-so-crispy texture.

    What is crispy is the restaurant’s interior. The numerous paper lanterns hanging from the restaurant’s low ceilings, as well as the Japandi decor, lend a very intimate and inviting slant to the clamor, energy and sounds of slurping.

    At Slap, that hits hard.

    Slap Hand-Ripped Noodles, 6532 Carrier Drive, 407-337-6999, instagram.com/slap.noodles.usa

    Orlando’s daily dose of what matters. Subscribe to The Daily Weekly.

    This article appears in Jan. 14-20, 2026.



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    Faiyaz Kara
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  • Corner Chophouse beefs up Winter Park’s Hannibal Square

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    Corner Chophouse Credit: Matt Keller Lehman

    When Corner Chophouse announced it would move into the old Park Avenue Tavern/Dexter’s space in Hannibal Square, I kept hearing, “Does Winter Park really need another high-end steakhouse?” I don’t know; does Orlando need another taqueria? Or pizzeria? Noodle house? Sushi joint? It struck me as the sort of question uttered in a city uncomfortable in its own skin, perhaps even one with an inferiority complex, not a large urban center with an established culinary identity where, in my experience, such examinations are rarely entertained. Maybe that’s because more isn’t less when it comes to restaurants; rather, more is more. So, yes, give me more taquerias and pizzerias. Give me more noodle houses and sushi joints. And, sure, give me more high-end steakhouses, even if it’s rare you’ll find me in one. 

    Corner Chophouse, however, is no ordinary high-end steakhouse. This is one by Indigo Road Hospitality Group, makers of many a concept, including venerable Charleston institution Oak Steakhouse. It’s run by four-time James Beard Award nominee Steve Palmer, who chose to create a whole new concept just for this prominent corner in Hannibal Square. 

    That said, more than a few followers slid into my DMs to sound their disappointment when the chophouse first opened: “Saddest ribeye I’ve seen in quite some time. This for $85”; “Just a sad mess of a presentation”; “Service was bad and food wasn’t much better”; “Steaks overcooked, sides meh, I miss Dexter’s.” Some accompanied their pleasantries with photos of dreadful-looking cuts of steak. The fact the messages came from people whose opinions I respect only served to lower, significantly, my expectations. So when the good lady and I entered the Prohibition Era-styled chophouse on a Friday night and were seated in a dimly lit overflow room, we expected the worst.

    Corner Chophouse Credit: Matt Keller Lehman

    But we couldn’t find fault with the steak tartare ($19), revealed to us once a smoke-filled dome was lifted off the plate. Black garlic lent the raw beef its bite; gossamer potato chips lent the crisp. Then we ate a lovely, and pricey, bluefin tuna crudo ($24) elegantly dressed with radishes, buttery Castelvetrano olives and sherry vinegar served on a classy, irregular round plate. We began to wonder when our opinions would sour. Would it be after a service of milk bread served with Maldon-salted Plugrà butter ($8)? Nope. 

    When our server said that they were inexplicably out of the 20-ounce dry-aged bone-in ribeye ($150) I had my eye on, along with the 28-ounce cowboy ribeye ($160) and the 12-ounce wagyu strip ($120), that left me just four steaks to choose from. The 32-ounce porterhouse was suggested — all $240 worth — but I settled for a less riche $84 16-ounce prime ribeye. The medium-rare slab couldn’t have been fired better. Unlike the slabs in the photos sent to me, it looked every bit the $84 steak I thought it wouldn’t be. Along with a marrow bone ($9) and a side of asparagus ($15) coated in a mustardy sauce gribiche and crispy potato, this was a steak dinner as good as any I’ve enjoyed.

    A massive, wonderfully marbled pork chop ($46) was just as juicy, served over potato pavé set in a rich soubise with apples. So, apart from the sticker shock, the lack of steak options and the wine glasses not cleared after cocktails were ordered, we left impressed — and a bit puzzled.

    Corner Chophouse Credit: Matt Keller Lehman

    I mean, this was hardly the subpar meal we anticipated. Surely the reckoning would come on a subsequent visit. And there, at the lively bar, the pal and I wolfed down a beautifully presented plate of squash and pumpkin ravioli ($22) in a sage brown butter as well as a couple of large stone crabs ($15) before digging into the dry-aged, bone-in ribeye ($150) I desired on my previous visit.

    Again, it was perfectly grilled, and every nutty slice was paired with a bite of pancetta-flecked creamed spinach ($12), a complimentary offering courtesy of our gracious barkeep. I also witnessed a first: the making of a vodka martini with 13 blue-cheese-stuffed olives. Not quite as ridiculous was the size of the chocolate cake ($16) and the brown butter spiced apple cake ($14) with brown butter cream cheese icing, caramelized apples and candied pecans. Both solid, both superb.

    As I picked through leftovers a couple of days later, I noticed a couple of things: No. 1, the pork chop was significantly raw in one section, and No. 2, I had received another DM about Corner Chophouse.

    “They must have gotten it together because I haven’t heard any major complaints in the last couple of weeks. I mean, you’d think so given the company that runs it,” said the Instagram message.

    It appears so, even if Corner Chophouse is a bit rough around the edges.

    (Corner Chophouse, 558 W. New England Ave., Winter Park; 321-972-2383; cornerchophouse.com; $$$$)

    Orlando’s daily dose of what matters. Subscribe to The Daily Weekly.

    This article appears in Nov. 19-25, 2025.



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    Faiyaz Kara
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  • Moa Kai Hawaiian Diner brings fuss-free island classics to Colonial Drive

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    Moa Kai Credit: Matt Keller Lehman

    I walked into a diner one fall evening in a bit of a state. The better team losing a certain winner-take-all baseball game had me enveloped in a brooding stupor for nearly 48 hours. Not that I felt a need to act out a cinematic trope, mind you, but stepping into this diner, an empty diner at that, did just that. In my mind, I’d park my keister on a backless red-leather stool, bury my head in a cup of black coffee, and sulk about the team’s lost opportunities. Only this was Moa Kai — a bright, buoyant, aloha-spirited Hawaiian diner. Here, the backless leather stools gleamed, and the words “Huli Pau” lit up the tropical wallpaper behind the bar in vivid neon. But instead of coffee, it was hōkū poni, a purplish beverage of Kula white rum, ube syrup, coconut milk and lime juice, in which sorrows were drowned. Refreshing, yes, though it didn’t help my mood much.

    But I gotta hand it to the server. He encouraged me to eat, even as they were readying to close Moa Kai in 25 minutes. So I landed on the most comforting item I could find — loco moco ($15), Hawaii’s answer to Salisbury steak. Here the patty of beef is served over white rice and topped with a fried egg. A slather of brown gravy, sauteed onions and mushrooms, however, wasn’t just mood-enhancing, it lent the dish proper diner status, and I scarfed it down.

    My disposition was somewhat more pleasant when I returned with a pal, himself in a state of lament thanks to the vagaries of fantasy football. Enter the healing effects of fried spam musubi ($7). The panko’d block drizzled in a spicy sauce helped turn his frown the other way ’round, so that by the time we sunk our pearlies into soft, doughy manapua ($8) — steamed bao filled with char siu pork — our grins were evident. The restaurant’s name, BTW, is in reference to moa — those treasured, feathered, feral chickens that freely roam the Hawaiian Islands.

    Moa Kai Credit: Matt Keller Lehman

    No surprise, then, that chicken is very much present on Moa Kai’s menu. In the garlic fried noodles ($16), the morsels are flavored with shoyu; in the skewers ($10), they’re marinated in teriyaki; in the Korean chicken ($15), they’re battered, fried and sauced. And it’s all so unfussy, so void of frills and so very diner to the core. Owner Hoi Nguyen, who operated The Mongolorian in this very space for a year before closing it last summer, and who also owns Poke Hana just down the street, wanted a concept that tapped into his love for Hawaiian culture. And Hawaii’s culture, as I’m sure you’re now aware, is infused with plenty of Asian influence.

    Moa Kai’s “plate lunches,” Hawaii’s version of meat-and-three (or meat-and-two, in Moa Kai’s case), offer heftier options, none heftier than kalbi ($24). The thick-cut ribs marinated in shoyu and pineapple juice are a tad sweeter than their Korean counterparts, but crowd-pleasing nonetheless. The ribs are served with sides of white rice flecked with sesame seeds and mac & cheese. Plate lunches can be enjoyed with everything from kalua pork and cabbage ($15) to panko-fried mahi ($20) to garlic shrimp ($17).

    The Portuguese also left their mark on the island cuisine, most notably the deep-fried donuts called malasadas ($8). To say the sugar-coated puffs filled with haupia (coconut custard) and lilikoi (passion fruit) left us cheerful would be somewhat true. To say they negated our blues would be more accurate. In fact, in true Hawaiian fashion, they were swept away.

    (Moa Kai Hawaiian Diner, 2217 E. Colonial Drive, 407-270-7916, moakaidiner.com, $$)

    Kudos to Jala’s owner for hiring chefs straight from India. They clearly know what they’re doing

    Orlando’s daily dose of what matters. Subscribe to The Daily Weekly.

    This article appears in Nov. 12-18, 2025.



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    Faiyaz Kara
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  • Outpost Neighborhood Tavern adds a bit of queer cheer to the sports bar experience

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    Outpost Neighborhood Tavern Credit: Matt Keller Lehman

    Most sports bars — check that; all sports bars I’ve ever visited have been of the certifiably hetero, hyper-masculine, bro-cultured sort. And when a sportsball event of consequence takes place, the vibe typically rises to eruptive levels of testosterone-fueled hooliganery. Of late, however, I’ve been more inclined to parade any unbridled sports passion in the comfort of my home — honestly, it’s just safer for everybody (my wife notwithstanding). So when my sportsball-loving pal and I found ourselves inside the friendly confines of Outpost Neighborhood Tavern, I made sure it was at a prudent lunchtime hour on a weekday afternoon. And while there’s no shortage of boob tubage in this former home of Persimmon Hollow Brewing, we found that the space has been tastefully, and expectedly, queer-eyed.

    Outpost, you see, is a sports bar, but one amplifying the world of the LGBTQ+ community. In fact, owner Devon Tillman (who formerly ran Island Time in Thornton Park) and OUT Sports League creator John Teixeria bill their tavern on the sink-holed shores of Lake Eola as a “fabulous place for dining, drinks, drag and sports.” And fabulous it is. The interior refresh allows the bright space to sparkle, while the decor gives as much emphasis to Ronaldo as it does to RuPaul.

    “I’ve never been to a gay sports bar,” said the pal.

    “Me neither,” I replied. “Let’s drink to being rookies!”

    And we did, but Outpost’s bill of fare is less sports bar and more grandma’s country chicken. There are as many Southern flourishes on the menu as Bear Bryant had in his wardrobe. Black-eyed pea hummus ($13), deep-fried collard green chips ($8) and whipped feta topped with a pecan-mint gremolata ($14) are snackables that Alabama and Auburn fans can agree on. But they were also of a caliber that had us excited about trying some of the menu’s heavy hitters.

    Outpost Neighborhood Tavern Credit: Matt Keller Lehman

    The appropriately named “Southern comfort burger” ($17), a half-pounder loaded with pimiento cheese, hot honey and chow-chow, was one of the best burgers I’ve had all year. In fact, that tangy chow-chow was so good, we got it on the corn dogs ($13), smothered in more cheese and an Alabama white barbecue sauce. When Tillman told us the “big mamma” fried chicken ($26) was his great-grandmother’s recipe, it made our decision easy. The pickle juice brine lent a unique flavor angle to the crispy chicken that we appreciated, even if it didn’t suit our tastes. However, the warming spices in the sweet potato cornbread served with the bird did.

    I mentioned there were a lot of TVs in the place, and it was likely a match of some sort playing on them that distracted me from reading the description of a dish called “hearty meatloaf” ($24). I expected a plate with slabs of meat slathered in gravy, but what we got were meatloaf meatballs, just as the menu said. No matter; the orbs glazed in a guava barbecue sauce served over coconut-plantain mashed potatoes were as substantial as Jimmy Johnson’s coif. The lone quibble? Baby carrots weren’t cooked all the way through. Not a big deal as we ate the rest with, umm, gay abandon.

    Speaking of, a drag brunch ($60-$75) goes from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. every Sunday and it’s proven quite popular. Hardly surprising, given that Outpost serves food and drink fit for a queen.

    Orlando’s daily dose of what matters. Subscribe to The Daily Weekly.

    The fan-favorite spot has been dishing out breakfast, brunch and lunch for more than four decades on Park Avenue

    Plus a new West African food truck, a fourth all-halal taco spot and a new rotisserie chicken shop

    Fall Fête fundraising dinner at Kitchen House, Fall Festival at Masjid Al-Rahman, and Four Flamingos’ Stone Crab Brunch Buffet

    This article appears in Oct. 29–Nov. 4, 2025.



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    Faiyaz Kara
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  • Tom Sietsema’s impact on the DC dining culture, according to the chefs, owners he reviewed – WTOP News

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    For 26 years now, Tom Sietsema has been a faceless name that struck a chord throughout the entirety of the…

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    Washington Post food critic Tom Sietsema on his career and what’s next

    For 26 years now, Tom Sietsema has been a faceless name that struck a chord throughout the entirety of the D.C. area’s food and beverage industry. While most didn’t know what the food critic for The Washington Post looked like, they certainly knew what he craved and critiqued. And whether his words were positive or not, they resonated within the region.

    But this Tuesday, Sietsema announced that he is dropping his anonymity and stepping down. While he said in his announcement that he is not retiring — “I’ve got plans to cook more, travel more and stay connected with fellow food enthusiasts” — the future still remains unclear.

    Several chefs and restaurateurs spoke to WTOP about how Sietsema’s reviews impacted them and what they would say if they got the chance to meet him. Many said it was Sietsema’s reviews that helped them get through the pandemic or propelled them to the executive chef positions they hold now.

    Matt Conroy, executive chef at Lutèce, Pascual and Maison Bar À Vins, said that Sietsema’s review of Lutèce in particular “really catapulted the restaurant” during the pandemic when it opened.

    “His reviews hold a lot of weight,” Conroy said. “I think people pay attention to him … you’re not going to trick him. … He knows what’s good.”

    Kevin Tien, chef and owner of Moon Rabbit, said Sietsema’s review of his former restaurant, Himitsu, directly impacted the increase of traffic, interest in specific dishes and the diversity of diners in the restaurant.

    In 2016, when Tien was 29 years old, he opened Himitsu in D.C.’s Petworth neighborhood.

    “I had no business opening a restaurant, but getting a review from him really changed the trajectory of my career, and honestly, I’m forever grateful,” he said.

    Daisuke Utagawa, a partner of Daikaya Group, which includes Tonari, Bantam King and Daikaya, credits Sietsema for elevating the dining scene of the D.C. area.

    “He was a very integral part of Washington becoming a food town,” Utagawa said, further describing Sietsema as a “champion of the industry.”

    For Jeffrey Bank, owner and CEO of the Alicart Restaurant Group, he said Sietsema was “very fair” in his 2010 review of Carmine’s.

    In the review at the time, Sietsema wrote, “I am prepared not to like my feast … But I end up eating my words.”

    Bank said Sietsema understood the intention of the restaurant and was “spot on” in his assessment.

    “He really always got the food. He got service, but he also got I feel what the restaurant was trying to be and what it was going for,” Bank said.

    Many of the chefs said if there was one thing they could tell Sietsema, it would be: “Thank you.”

    Bryan Voltaggio, chef and owner of Wye Oak Tavern, said, “I would just say thank you. … He has helped put D.C. and the entire DMV on the map.”

    “You’ve given opportunity to many chefs who would never otherwise have an opportunity to share their stories and their food and their culture. And you’ve helped build a path for us to be more welcomed in a dining environment that may not be so welcoming sometimes to small, young chefs or BIPOC chefs,” Tien said of Sietsema.

    With Sietsema stepping down as food critic for The Washington Post, what does that mean for food criticism in the nation’s capital? The restaurant owners and chefs that WTOP spoke to said they in no way see food criticism as a dying art as a whole. It is certainly changing, though.

    According to Conroy, “print is not what it was,” and “people get their news different ways now.” He said a review from trusted sources like Sietsema can change a business overnight.

    “I think critics give us an honest review of a restaurant, and not ‘Everything’s the best, and you have to go there this weekend,’” Tien said.

    Some aren’t so keen about food critics.

    Stephen Starr, president and founder of STARR Restaurants, said, “I wish there were no food critics. … We would like the people to decide. It scares me … when a food critic comes in.”

    Even so, Starr said he respects Sietsema and his work and how “fair” he always has been, saying he’s “sort of like The Godfather” or “the Yoda of the food and culinary scene.”

    “I believe he is an iconic reviewer in the food industry,” Starr said. “I believe what is most admirable, other than his writing style, is the fact that I think he goes into a restaurant with reverence for what restaurants are.”

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    Michelle Goldchain

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  • Tom Sietsema’s impact on the DC dining culture, according to the chefs, owners he reviewed – WTOP News

    [ad_1]

    For 26 years now, Tom Sietsema has been a faceless name that struck a chord throughout the entirety of the D.C. area’s food and beverage industry.

    This page contains a video which is being blocked by your ad blocker.
    In order to view the video you must disable your ad blocker.

    Washington Post food critic Tom Sietsema on his career and what’s next

    For 26 years now, Tom Sietsema has been a faceless name that struck a chord throughout the entirety of the D.C. area’s food and beverage industry. While most didn’t know what the food critic for The Washington Post looked like, they certainly knew what he craved and critiqued. And whether his words were positive or not, they resonated within the region.

    But this Tuesday, Sietsema announced that he is dropping his anonymity and stepping down. While he said in his announcement that he is not retiring — “I’ve got plans to cook more, travel more and stay connected with fellow food enthusiasts” — the future still remains unclear.

    Several chefs and restaurateurs spoke to WTOP about how Sietsema’s reviews impacted them and what they would say if they got the chance to meet him. Many said it was Sietsema’s reviews that helped them get through the pandemic or propelled them to the executive chef positions they hold now.

    Matt Conroy, executive chef at Lutèce, Pascual and Maison Bar À Vins, said that Sietsema’s review of Lutèce in particular “really catapulted the restaurant” during the pandemic when it opened.

    “His reviews hold a lot of weight,” Conroy said. “I think people pay attention to him … you’re not going to trick him. … He knows what’s good.”

    Kevin Tien, chef and owner of Moon Rabbit, said Sietsema’s review of his former restaurant, Himitsu, directly impacted the increase of traffic, interest in specific dishes and the diversity of diners in the restaurant.

    In 2016, when Tien was 29 years old, he opened Himitsu in D.C.’s Petworth neighborhood.

    “I had no business opening a restaurant, but getting a review from him really changed the trajectory of my career, and honestly, I’m forever grateful,” he said.

    Daisuke Utagawa, a partner of Daikaya Group, which includes Tonari, Bantam King and Daikaya, credits Sietsema for elevating the dining scene of the D.C. area.

    “He was a very integral part of Washington becoming a food town,” Utagawa said, further describing Sietsema as a “champion of the industry.”

    For Jeffrey Bank, owner and CEO of the Alicart Restaurant Group, he said Sietsema was “very fair” in his 2010 review of Carmine’s.

    In the review at the time, Sietsema wrote, “I am prepared not to like my feast … But I end up eating my words.”

    Bank said Sietsema understood the intention of the restaurant and was “spot on” in his assessment.

    “He really always got the food. He got service, but he also got I feel what the restaurant was trying to be and what it was going for,” Bank said.

    Many of the chefs said if there was one thing they could tell Sietsema, it would be: “Thank you.”

    Bryan Voltaggio, chef and owner of Wye Oak Tavern, said, “I would just say thank you. … He has helped put D.C. and the entire DMV on the map.”

    “You’ve given opportunity to many chefs who would never otherwise have an opportunity to share their stories and their food and their culture. And you’ve helped build a path for us to be more welcomed in a dining environment that may not be so welcoming sometimes to small, young chefs or BIPOC chefs,” Tien said of Sietsema.

    With Sietsema stepping down as food critic for The Washington Post, what does that mean for food criticism in the nation’s capital? The restaurant owners and chefs that WTOP spoke to said they in no way see food criticism as a dying art as a whole. It is certainly changing, though.

    According to Conroy, “print is not what it was,” and “people get their news different ways now.” He said a review from trusted sources like Sietsema can change a business overnight.

    “I think critics give us an honest review of a restaurant, and not ‘Everything’s the best, and you have to go there this weekend,’” Tien said.

    Some aren’t so keen about food critics.

    Stephen Starr, president and founder of STARR Restaurants, said, “I wish there were no food critics. … We would like the people to decide. It scares me … when a food critic comes in.”

    Even so, Starr said he respects Sietsema and his work and how “fair” he always has been, saying he’s “sort of like The Godfather” or “the Yoda of the food and culinary scene.”

    “I believe he is an iconic reviewer in the food industry,” Starr said. “I believe what is most admirable, other than his writing style, is the fact that I think he goes into a restaurant with reverence for what restaurants are.”

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    Michelle Goldchain

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  • With Sterling Food and a Convivial Atmosphere, Crowley’s Nails the Perfect Recipe for Dive Bars for Grown-Ups – Cleveland Scene

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    When we pulled into the wraparound parking lot at Crowley’s in Eastlake, every single spot was taken. The same held true of the tables and chairs inside the squat, square dive bar. After a few minutes, a pair of barstools materialized, we hopped onto them and spent the next three hours watching the place ebb and flow through happy hour, dinner service and beyond.

    Everybody loves a dive bar, but few among us appreciate the greasy food, callous service, dirty tap lines and dirtier bathrooms. What if you could design a dive bar that fired on all those cylinders without losing its edge or becoming the dreaded “hipster bar.” That’s what partners David Bartulovic, Brendan Kearney, and brothers McPat and Seamus Coyne had in mind when they opened Crowley’s in 2023.

    The owners, who jointly and separately run other restaurants, first came together to launch a food truck. On a lark, they teamed up to open a low-key dive bar where the bartenders also cooked the smash burgers.

    “That went out the window the day we opened,” says Bartulovic. “We exploded.”

    From our seats at the bar, we had a clear view into the semi-open kitchen, where a frenetic knot of staffers was in constant motion. Basket after basket of food made its way through the pass, much of it landing in front of our faces. When you sell 130 smash burgers a night you might expect a drop in quality here or there, but every single burger was textbook. In fact, all the little things that tend to get pushed aside during peak times – things like toasting buns, griddling sandwiches, haphazard garnishing, over-frying, under-seasoning – Crowley’s gets right, all night.

    Those matchless smash burgers ($14) feature two thin crisp-edged patties, “government cheese” (American), sautéed onion, shredded lettuce and special sauce on a toasted potato roll. That price includes fries. Singles and triples are also available. Fried bologna sandwiches ($13) arrive on golden brown brioche toast, cut on the diagonal, and loaded with thin-sliced meat, cheese and a tangy special sauce. We upgraded the fries to a mountain of lightly breaded onion rings for $3.

    We happened to be there on a Tuesday night, so we started with saucy, smoking-hot jumbo wings for 75 cents apiece. We also ravaged a basket of molten fried cheese curds ($12) with ranch dipping sauce. I didn’t expect to find cevapi ($19) on a bar menu, but one of the owners is Croatian and he put his foot down. The freeform pork-and-beef sausages are served properly with raw white onion, aromatic ajvar and flatbread. There’s also a gyro on the menu that features cevapi in place of the traditional spit-roasted meat.

    Other menu staples include chili, loaded tater tot baskets, grilled cheese sandwiches, chili cheese dogs and Polish boys.

    Crowley’s stays true to the dive bar ethos with $3 Hamm’s, an unpretentious vibe and regulars who might as well have permanent bar stools. Sports of all forms dominate the many screens. The place is loud, but convivial, with strangers striking up conversations on the regular.

    The instant success in Eastlake led quickly to a second location in Kirtland followed by a third in Painesville. Bartulovic credits chef-partner Brian Sheehan for maintaining quality and consistency while the group expands at a feverish pace.

    But it’s not always easy to maintain a uniform identity when you expand into different communities, properties and interior layouts, says Bartulovic.

    “Yeah, that’s been a challenge,” he admits. “Kirtland is a completely different vibe; it’s more of a family atmosphere. And Painesville will be just as good as Eastlake, but it will take a little bit of time because of all of the construction.”

    The biggest test is just ahead for the Crowley’s team. Location number four currently is taking shape on the campus of John Carroll University in University Heights. At 4,400 square feet, the bar on Fairmount Circle is three times the size of the original in Eastlake. Instead of the 18 barstools out east there will be 40.

    “We want this to be a college bar,” says Bartulovic, who along with partner McPatt Coyne is a John Carroll alum. “The menu will stay true to form, but we will add a few more menu options. This will be the first college bar on campus that they’ve had.”

    The University Heights location is slated to open in late October. As for future Crowley’s locations, management is currently noncommittal. They’re working to open Kearney’s Public House in Mentor by spring, but after that, says Bartulovic, “We hope so.”

    Crowley’s Dive Bar

    Multiple locations

    crowleysdive.com

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  • Burger Vault in Altamonte Springs is worth breaking into – Orlando Weekly

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    Credit: Matt Keller Lehman

    I had a bit of fun trying to come up with slogans for Burger Vault in Altamonte Springs, the subject of this week’s review. From the obvious “Burger Vault: We Lock In the Flavor” to more oblique zingers like “Burger Vault: It’s Empty (pregnant pause) Calories,” the taglines I spurted were met with an unimpressed grimace from my wife. “OK, OK, what about ‘Burger Vault: A Springboard to Heart Disease’?” 

    Nothing.

    And while the latter may very well be true, Burger Vault is also a springboard to a relatively new burger trend — the all-halal variant. Yes, it seems halal burger joints have ground their way into a share of the better burger market across the city, whether it’s stalwarts like Charcoal Zyka and their chapli kebab burger, or the all-American classics being flipped at O’Town Burgers N Wings and Beef N’ Buns, or the smashed patties at Smashville and Juicy Burger & Wings — to name just a few.

    ’Cuz there are a lot.

    But in addition to serving burgers fashioned from meat slaughtered according to Islamic jurisprudence (that is, by hand), Burger Vault adds a well-guarded seasoning by way of Jordan to all their patties. Like, really well-guarded. And not anything as obvious as, say, a baharat or za’atar, but a lot more subtle. Sumac for sure. I may have detected some cumin notes. 

    Of note, as far as olfactory notes go, was the superbly aromatic char being fired onto these patties. In fact, we sniffed out the burger joint, literally, by following the flame-broiled scent from the light at State Road 436 and Montgomery Road straight to the source inside the Ashby’s Square strip mall. That source, a fire-licked grate manned by a burger maestro with a penchant for pyrotechnics, is the draw. The flare-ups he theatrically induces, often to the delight of those in line, has purpose — a crusty char on both sides of the 5.3-ounce all-beef patty. Or, in the case of the volcano burger ($17; $21 with fries and a drink), two 5.3-ounce all-beef patties.

    Burger Vault’s signature handheld oozes with melted cheddar and a not-so-fiery “volcano” sauce given a kick by some charred jalapeños. It’s superb, substantial and anything but smashed. In fact, when I brought up the topic of smashburgers to one of the guys behind the counter, he responded, “Those are not burgers.”

    Clearly, the boys take their work seriously. Every patty served in every burger we’ve tried has been subjected to the dark arts. An order of the simple, basic “classic” burger ($13 single; $17 double) had my Cali-born-and-bred bud likening it to In-N-Out’s (BV’s brioche bun notwithstanding). No argument from me.

    No psilocybin in the “mushroom magic” ($15), but the greenish fungi sauce and yellow melt of American cheese gave off some psychedelic vibes. We were turned onto the “Build Your Own Fries” option ($5) and it was pretty far out, man. Well, it was the way we ordered it — with cheese sauce ($1.79), caramelized onions (99 cents), jalapeños (no extra charge) and bacon ($2) of the beef variety (this is a halal joint, after all). Yeah, washing it all down with some electric Kool-Aid would’ve been totally groovy, but a vanilla shake ($7) helped mellow out the burn.

    The space itself, with its brick walls and leather booths, is marred only by the harsh interrogation-room lighting — take heed; there will be squinting. Also odd is that should you want your burger cut in half, a server must be summoned, after which one will come by with a sizable steak knife to dissect it. Table knives were nowhere to be found. 

    Credit: Matt Keller Lehman

    I wasn’t all too fond of the Sydney crispy chicken burger ($14): unmelted slices of cheddar in between a not-so-crispy chicken breast and turkey patty with lettuce, tomato, pickles and a honey-mustardish “Sydney” sauce. I don’t know about the chicken sammies being served down under, but BV ought to look a little closer to home for chicken sandwich inspiration (i.e., Nashville).

    Speaking of Australia, BV initially offered an 8-ounce Australian wagyu burger on a Martin’s potato roll ($30), but then switched to American wagyu. Not sure I can justify paying that amount for American wagyu. Bad As’s Burgers offers Aussie wag burgers at almost half the price.

    Indeed, the city is chock-full of burger options — great options — and Burger Vault has immersed itself in a very crowded field, but you’d do well to give them a try. “Burger Vault: We’ve Got the Right Combination.”

    She didn’t even crack a smile at that one.

    (Burger Vault, 520 W. State Road 436, Altamonte Springs, 321-972-1646, burgervaultorlando.com, $$)

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    The night features celebrity queen Icesis Couture from Canada’s Drag Race

    Opening reception for Romero’s show ‘WE’ at the Terrace Gallery is Monday, Sept. 29

    Moon Rays, Derek Dunn, Drujhn and Salty Jazz Crabs will get odd

    This article appears in Sept. 24-30, 2025.



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  • Edwins Rekindles the Spirit of Nighttown While Charting a Deft Course Through French Dining

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    Photo by Doug Trattner

    The frog legs at Edwins

    The old Nighttown had a sneaky way of turning moments into hours. A true neighborhood pub, it was the type of place you’d pop into at happy hour for a quick drink with a mate. But one round often turned into two, so the prudent thing to do was to order a quick appetizer. And then, just as you were about to settle up and sally, other friends invariably would roll in, turning that brief meet-up into a full-fledged outing. The next thing you know it’s 10:30 p.m. and you’ve Irish-goodbyed the gang because they showed no signs of letting up.

    That situation never happened to me at the new Nighttown, the lukewarm revival from the Red Restaurant Group, but it certainly has at Edwins. Since moving in, Brandon Chrostowski not only has found the ideal new home for his mission-based restaurant, he also has rekindled the soul and spirit of the building. In hindsight, there was no better outcome for the property than the one we now enjoy.

    After the roller-coaster ride that we all endured – one that included the abrupt closure of a Cleveland Heights landmark, a four-year wait for a refurbished replacement, and the subsequent collapse in one quarter of that time – the transition to Edwins has been a breath of fresh air. Chrostowski’s outsized personality fills every nook and cranny of the meandering place, the food feels uniquely suited to the rooms, live jazz has returned to the stage, and people are eagerly filling the seats.

    The true beauty of Edwins lies in its range and flexibility. Under one roof there are multiple bars, dining rooms, menus and vibes. Where one sits on the property determines whether he or she will be ordering off a brasserie menu, fine-dining menu or smaller bar menu. Sundays usher in a family friendly buffet brunch.

    There may be no prettier sight than the freshly installed raw bar in the main pub. No fewer than a dozen varieties of East and West Coast oysters are displayed on a shimmering bed of ice. After being shucked to order, our mixed dozen ($30) arrived on a large silver platter with mignonette, house hot sauce and fresh lemon. Also on the ice-covered tray were plump, perfectly poached shrimp cocktail ($12) and sauce. We paired the seafood with glasses of unoaked chardonnay ($9) and French sauvignon blanc ($8).

    It’s surprising how at home Edwins’ brasserie dishes feel at this famed Irish pub. Our table quickly filled with plates of steak tartare ($14), potato and ham croquettes ($9) and frog legs ($15). Bombarded with heaps of garlic, butter and fresh parsley, the frog legs have made the journey from Shaker Square unscathed. The croquettes are warm, crisp and comforting, but the tartare is too finely minced for our taste.

    Those plates were soon replaced by others bearing chicken paillard ($23), braised beef short ribs ($25) and steak frites ($33), three satisfying and agreeably priced dishes. Covered in dark, rich gravy, the braised beef and truffle mash will be a popular winter item. If the chicken was pounded any thinner, it would land in a different dimension. It is lightly breaded, pan-fried and paired with green beans and pomme puree. Cleveland’s best steak frites now resides in Cleveland Heights, where expertly grilled strip steak is sliced, paired with a mountain of crisp fries and laid to rest in a pool of decadent Bearnaise.

    Diners in search of a more upscale experience should book a table in the main dining room, where a menu offers a choice between a la carte dishes or multi-course tasting menus. The latter requires a table-wide commitment. This is where you’ll find Edwins chestnuts like foie gras terrine, Maine lobster salad, seafood sausage, duck confit, bouillabaisse, horseradish-crusted salmon and others.

    Few operators are as comfortable as Chrostowski pivoting from gilded seven-course tasting menus with wine pairings to smoke-filled cigar and burger nights on the patio. The chef and host glides between the two worlds, often within the same hour, with confidence and comfort. One moment he’s easing the cork from a rare bottle of Burgundy, the next he’s cracking open oysters with the speed and skill of a Big Easy lifer.

    A pleaser at heart, Chrostowski continues to check things off our collective wish list. Happy hours are back and better than ever, with steals and deals on beer, wine, cocktails and food. Late-night dining is back, with service stretching past midnight most nights. And live music is back, both in the form of free weekend sessions as well as select ticketed events curated by Dominick Farinacci. What more can one ask for?

    Edwins
    12383 Cedar Rd., Cleveland Hts.
    216-921-3333
    edwinsrestaurant.org

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    Douglas Trattner

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  • Kyuramen Delivers a Tantalizing and Stylish Tour of Regional Ramen Varieties and Japanese Flavors

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    Kyuramen in Strongsville

    Judging simply by the wishing tree that looms over the main dining room, Kyuramen has welcomed literally thousands of guests since opening in early June. The wooden structure is in full bloom, dripping with hand-written notes bearing the hopes, dreams and prayers of previous diners.

    But attention soon shifts to the left side of the restaurant, where booths are stacked in a striking honeycomb pattern, each glowing like the sunlit cells of a bee frame. Straight ahead, an open kitchen is a beehive of activity, where chefs drop noodles into boiling water, ladle hot broth from bubbling cauldrons, and cap bowls with various toppings. Moving deeper into the restaurant, one finds a stretch of cozy nooks concealed by curtains that mimics the lantern-lit alleyways of old Tokyo.

    Belying its suburban shopping mall address, Kyuramen is a compelling dining destination that marries form with function and flair. Located at SouthPark Mall in Strongsville, the restaurant is the first of its kind in Ohio, brought here by Cleveland-based entrepreneur Sheng Long Yu. Yu is behind a bevy of local eateries, both first-to-market concepts such as Lao Sze Chuan and Dagu Rice Noodle and original creations like Shinto, YYTime and Build the Pho.

    Founded in New York City a decade ago, Kyuramen is expanding quickly around the country. The draw, naturally, is the ramen, a mix of regional styles plucked from around the island nation. Those bowls are complemented by a wide variety of tantalizing appetizers, which add depth and complexity to meals. Glossy pictorial menus help diners navigate items that might be unfamiliar.

    The most popular starter on the menu is the honeycomb platter ($14.99), a combination of snacks presented in hexagonal dishes that mirror the stacked-booth arrangement. Edamame pods are tossed in chili oil and sprinkled with togarashi; Taiwanese-style popcorn chicken is crispy, juicy and well-seasoned; tempura-fried shrimp is light, crisp and grease-free; soft tofu is flash-fried, doused in umami-rich sauce and capped with bonito shavings; molten-hot and custardy takoyaki are studded with firm bits of octopus.

    Yakitori skewers arrive hot from the grill, lightly charred and pleasantly seasoned. They can be ordered a la carte or as a platter ($16.99) that mixes skirt steak, chicken thigh, pork belly, fried tofu and zucchini. While the skirt was on the chewy side, the pork belly and dark meat chicken were both succulent and perfectly cooked.

    Order the gyoza ($8.99) pan-fried (as opposed to deep-fried) and the dumplings arrive shatteringly crisp on the bottom but delicate and tender above. The thin wrappers are filled with an airy ground chicken mixture.

    Many customers visit Kyuramen just to try the omurice ($20.99), an eggy phenom made famous on social media. This hearty, comforting dish features a deftly prepared omelet that is balanced atop a mound of fried rice. At the table – once cameras are aimed and focused – the server glides a blade across the surface, unleashing a custardy interior that oozes over the rice. Sauce, either a tangy curry or savory demi-glace, is poured over top.

    Ramen – wide, deep bowls of savory broth, bouncy egg noodles and sundry toppings – is the main draw. Pork bones simmer for five days to make the base broth for most bowls. The #1 is the classic deeply flavored, collagen-rich tonkotsu shoyu, flavored either with white garlic or black garlic ($17.99). In addition to the noodles, there is well-marbled chashu pork, marinated soft-cooked egg, bamboo shoot, nori, corn and scallion. There are also spicy versions, curry flavored brews, Korean kimchi ramen, and broths made from chicken or vegetables. The Yinyang bowl lets diners enjoy two styles side by side.

    Diners can tweak their bowls with tabletop spices like citrusy togarashi, fiery cayenne, and a Chinese-style pickled vegetable relish that adds texture, heat and flavor.

    For dessert, there’s matcha pudding, cherry blossom jelly, and matcha tiramisu ($7.99). The latter, served in a wooden sake box, features layers of light cream and ladyfingers beneath a vibrant green dusting of matcha powder.

    TBaar, a standalone bubble tea counter in a front corner of the restaurant, services both sit-down and carry-out customers. The well-known brand offers milk teas, fruit teas, fruit smoothies and refreshing lemonades. My personal favorite is the brown sugar bubble milk tea ($5.95). Ice and sugar levels are customizable.

    When it comes to restaurants, Yu is an unstoppable force. In addition to the above-mentioned spots, he also operates Kenko Sushi and Hell’s Fried Chicken. On deck is a third Shinto Japanese Steakhouse at Legacy and a second Lau Sze Chuan in Strongsville. Yu stated that he’s also in talks to bring a Kyuramen to the east side of Cleveland. For purely selfish reasons, I hope he does.

    Kyuramen
    500 Southpark Ctr., Strongsville
    440-638-4271
    kyuramen.com

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    Douglas Trattner

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  • Cozumel Brings a Welcome Dose of Comfort and Traditional Mexican to Cleveland Heights

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    When a property as prominent as the former Mojo/Lopez spot in Cleveland Heights comes on the market, talk rapidly shifts to possibilities. In the days and weeks that followed the closure of that restaurant, the chatter in local coffee shops, bakeries and restaurants up and down Lee Road was dominated by the “wishing game.” Punters of all stripes tossed out best-case scenarios featuring big-name chefs, red-hot concepts and underrepresented cuisines.

    Ironically, few of the countless neighbors I spoke with in those days mentioned Mexican – and yet, when announced, the development seemed to have delighted the widest possible audience. And when the name Cozumel was revealed, the response was near-universal in joy – because when it comes to pleasure-dining, few restaurants manage to cultivate joy better than this home-grown brand.

    While Northeast Ohio has no shortage of locally owned Mexican restaurants, Cozumel has risen to the top thanks to a collection of well-run and well-placed locations that span the region. Partners Ramon Aguirre, Jaime Delapaz and Martin Soto opened their first store in Broadview Heights in 2001. They went on to open seven more locations, from Westlake to Brunswick. So when the opportunity to open a location on the east side of town arose, the owners pounced on it.

    Since opening in September, Lee Road’s newcomer has been reliably busy, with diners filling the seats both inside the dining room and out on the unseasonably warm patio. The owners are a frequent sight at the restaurant, seeding the place with a culture of service, hospitality and comfort that diners have come to expect from the brand. While each location has its own staff, charms and quirks, they all dish up the same roster of approachable, affordable and satisfying Mexican and Tex-Mex-style foods. With this location – and Parma before it – Cozumel has adopted a more contemporary if spare décor, leaving behind the dark woods, faux stone and kitschy trimmings.

    Unlike most restaurant groups that reach this size, Cozumel has avoided the adoption of a commissary, those centralized kitchens that prepare foods in bulk for multiple locations. Instead, they prefer to fry the chips, blend the salsas, steam the tamales and roll the burritos onsite to ensure freshness.

    We all know that the number one reason we head to the neighborhood taqueria is for the bottomless chips and salsa. At Cozumel, baskets of warm, thin, crisp and not-too-salty chips land on the table within moments. The house salsa is fresh and bright, but for a bigger kick diners can request versions made with habanero or chile de arbol.

    To start, there’s queso fundido, ceviche, taquitos and a unique “chunk” guacamole ($9.85) that features large pieces of avocado, onion, bell pepper and a choice of corn, mango or jalapeno. The Cozumel soup ($4.75) combines a flavorful broth with tender shredded chicken, pico de gallo and rice. It’s topped with tortilla chips. Poblanos are stuffed with cheese and served with ranchero sauce as an appetizer ($3.90) or transformed into an entrée ($17.95) with the addition of ground beef inside and rice and beans on the side.

    There are few more expansive menus than this one, jammed with items like tacos, quesadillas, burritos, enchiladas, tostadas and chalupas that can be filled, mixed and matched in near-limitless ways. Fajita lovers have their pick of meat or seafood – or can opt for combos like beef and chicken ($21.55). The customary sizzling platter is loaded with meat and crisp-tender bell peppers, grilled onions and mushrooms. A shrimp and garlic dish ($23.95) is every bit as fresh, fragrant and appealing as those enjoyed in beach towns up and down the Riviera Maya. Carnitas-filled enchiladas Aztecas ($15.75) are capped with housemade chorizo, tomatillo sauce and melted cheese.

    Cozumel quietly launched birria tacos last year as a “secret menu” item, but the favorable response promoted the dish to regular status. An order ($15) includes three soft corn-tortilla wrapped tacos filled with tender braised beef, diced onions and fresh cilantro. Dunking them into the accompanying consommé turns them into drippy flavor bombs.

    It’s been said that we often don’t know what we want until it lands on our doorstep. For residents in the food-obsessed neighborhood of Cleveland Heights, that seems to be the case with Cozumel. Few cuisines manage to gratify such a diverse group of diners as does traditional Mexican. And given that Cozumel serves lunch and dinner seven days a week, the door is always open to fans young and old, seasoned and new.

    Cozumel Mexican Restaurant
    2196 Lee Rd., Cleveland Hts.
    216-331-4310
    cozumel.us

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  • Trinidadian Specialties Shine at New Location of Callaloo Café in Cleveland Heights

    Trinidadian Specialties Shine at New Location of Callaloo Café in Cleveland Heights

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    On most afternoons, you can find Kelvin Cadiz chilling on the side patio of his Cleveland Heights restaurant. That’s where his two offset grill/smokers sit, puffing aromatic smoke plumes into the air. From those grills come exceptionally flavorful foods like jerk chicken, rib tips and grilled whole chicken wings.

    I first met Cadiz a decade ago, when he opened Callaloo Café in Collinwood’s Waterloo Arts District. After a solid run in that neighborhood, the owner relocated his business to Lee Road, bringing his generous spirit and comforting Trinidadian fare with him. Thanks to word of mouth, the casual carry-out-heavy eatery is making a name for itself with locals who love food. When I make my first visit – a year and a half after Cadiz opened his new restaurant – the owner says with his characteristic friskiness, “What took you so long?”

    Named for the national dish of Trinidad, Callaloo offers a nice mix of traditional and contemporary Caribbean foods. The first item I would recommend to friends is the roti, which is named after the flatbread despite it being served alongside a curry. That’s how vital and delicious roti is. Trini roti is warm, flaky and soft unleavened flatbread that’s busted up on the griddle before serving. It makes the ideal delivery method for long-cooked meats like curried chicken or luscious bone-in goat ($16). That dish is accompanied by a side of curried chickpeas and potatoes.

    Cadiz’ jerk chicken ($23) is similar but not identical to a traditional Jamaican. He does a stellar job of slow-grilling the meat until its fall-apart tender and spiced clear down to the bone. The chestnut-colored meat is glazed with mildly sweet sauce that gives way to honest heat. My choice of sides nets me orders of warm cabbage with peppers and onions and the namesake callaloo, a mellow stew of spinach, okra and coconut milk. For a more affordable taste of the house jerk, order the wings ($12), which include four whole wings.

    The concise but fluid menu also offers stewed chicken, steamed whole red snapper and contemporary starters like nachos, quesadillas and burritos. Those quesadillas ($12) and burritos ($12) come with a choice of steak, chicken, fish or tofu and arrive crispy from the griddle. My burrito is stuffed with large pieces of flaky fish, crunchy cabbage, rice and beans. The addition of pineapple overwhelms an otherwise tasty quesadilla, in my case made with tofu and served with a mild and fresh tomato-based salsa.

    Callaloo Café
    2234 Lee Rd., Cleveland Hts.
    216-417-5232
    callaloocafe.net

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  • Review: Westsiders in Rocky River is a Well-Designed, Chef-Driven Destination Worthy of Return

    Review: Westsiders in Rocky River is a Well-Designed, Chef-Driven Destination Worthy of Return

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    Westsiders in Rocky River

    One of the best compliments a diner can pay a new restaurant, I believe, is that it feels as though it has been here all along. The statement implies that the business is a beloved member of the community and that it will likely stand the test of time, despite being a fresh-faced newcomer. That’s the aura that Westsiders gives off, a restaurant that Rocky River residents appear to have adopted as one of their own in two short months.

    When partners Constantine Katsaros and Jack Messer set out to craft their new venture, they leaned into their years of experience running Landmark Smokehouse and Twist Social Club on the Cleveland-Lakewood border. The owners endeavored to reclaim the middle market, one squeezed between generic fast-casual eateries and spendy shrines to steak and seafood. What they managed to create is a sort of unicorn establishment, one that is gorgeous, chef-driven and well-run, but also priced for weekly enjoyment.

    A great place to start is with a cocktail like the Passion Smoke, one of more than a dozen alluring concoctions priced at $13. The foam-capped purple potion balances an earthy blend of mezcal, pisco and amaro with the tropical kiss of passionfruit. A glass of Sancerre-like Loire Valley sauvignon blanc – served in fine crystal – is $14, while a glass of plummy Willamette Valley pinot noir is priced at $13.

    Westsiders is one of the most attractive casual restaurants to materialize in some time. In place of the ubiquitous industrial chic interior, diners are treated to a cosmopolitan hideaway that belies its shopping plaza locale. Warm wood tables, sumptuous leather-wrapped booths and reclaimed Art Deco-era panels that function as dividers coexist in a color palette of moss and spruce. The setting is so nice in fact that the TVs in the dining room feel incongruous.

    I’m a gardener so I’m up to my neck in cucumbers and tomatoes, but in the hands of executive chef Chris Suntala, those crops taste utterly refreshed. In the “cucumber three ways,” ($10), those veggies arrive with three different preparations, textures and flavors. The only way to improve summer-sweet cherry tomatoes ($12) is to pair them with grilled ripe peaches, nestle them in creamy housemade ricotta, and drizzle the whole lot with chili-spiked honey. That glossy ricotta ($12) is also served with grilled bread as a quick snack.

    If you order only one appetizer, make it the pork belly ($15). While the nicely charred sticky-glazed belly is savory and fork-tender, it’s the polenta fingers that will linger in my mind. Precision-cut into rectilinear slabs, the airy, cheesy polenta is pan-seared to form a golden crust on two sides. Seared tuna too often is overcooked and bland, but the buttery, barely cooked version here ($16) is more like warm crudo, enveloped in a crunchy black pepper crust and seasoned with soy, citrus and sesame.

    Subsribing to the “do less but do it better” mentality, the chef wields an editor’s pen when crafting his laser-focused menu. For mids and mains he offers a few pastas and five entrees, one of which is a burger. That burger ($19) is a joy to eat, gently formed, capped with cheddar and crispy shallots, and cooked to perfection. The only minor flaw were the accompanying pale and salty fries.

    Suntala’s stint at Vic’s in New York instilled in the chef a knack for pastas, which are smartly composed and housemade. There’s a tagliatelle ($22) tossed in a flavorful, warm-spiced Bolognese that goes easy on the meat. A special pasta ($21) featured short, nubby tubes – cooked to a firm al dente – that cradle the butter-enriched white wine sauce. The dish was garnished with blistered cherry tomatoes, torn basil and freshly grated cheese.

    Those in search of a meaty, fall-adjacent dish should order the slow-braised pork collar ($26). Cooked until pot roast-tender, the lush meat is perched atop roasted sweet potatoes, sided by hearty greens, slicked with gravy and garnished with bright pickled onions. Other options include a half chicken served on farro risotto, a grilled and sliced coulotte steak with roasted redskins and salsa verde, and a rainbow trout with cauliflower and apple brown butter.

    Many brand-new restaurants operate on shaky ground – still cycling through staff, feeling out the clientele, tweaking the menu and the dishes that appear on it. Westsiders, in contrast, feels fully formed, giving diners the confidence that if and when they return, they can expect to find the same quality of food, service and atmosphere that inspired them in the first place.

    Westsiders
    19880 Detroit Rd., Rocky River
    440-488-9908
    westsiders.com

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  • One Pot on Coventry is a Sizzling Korean BBQ Adventure

    One Pot on Coventry is a Sizzling Korean BBQ Adventure

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    One Pot in Cleveland Heights

    “I kind of feel like a kid in a candy shop, where I can have anything I want,” says a tablemate.

    It’s hard to argue with that sentiment when you’re gazing at a menu packed with dozens and dozens of colorful food pictures, all there for the asking. Like that proverbial kid in the candy shop, the near-limitless choices are at once thrilling and a bit overwhelming.

    “This is definitely a ‘choose your own adventure’ kind of meal,” adds another.

    When One Pot opened this spring on Coventry, it brought with it the next wave of Korean barbecue. The sleek décor, impressive tabletop technology and all-you-can-eat arrangement is the sort of setup that’s been available elsewhere in this country for years. Korean BBQ has always been an enjoyable and delicious feast, but at One Pot and places like it, the entire experience is elevated and transformed into a lively celebration.

    After pulling the plug on Taco Roosters, Hang Zheng gutted the interior and replaced it with a retro-futuristic dining room devoted to Korean BBQ and Asian hot pot. The restaurant is sleek, attractive and vividly hued, with tangerine-colored booths, smoldering neon and an array of Bearbricks, adorable bear-shaped figurines from Japan. Every table in the spacious dining room is equipped with built-in burners for barbecue grills and hot pots.

    Tables can elect to order BBQ, hot pot, or both. The price is $29.99 per person for either one ($19.99 at lunch), but only $5 more person for both. While the table shares one large, central grill for BBQ, each diner gets his or her own hot pot to manage. Both are all-you-can-eat affairs.

    Even at $34.99, the value is exceptional, especially considering the quality, variety and level of service that comes with it. First comes the soup, a choice of nine different broths. We ordered Korean kimchi, pork bone, Thai tom yum and the house spicy Szechuan. Each was flavorful enough to enjoy on its own. There are a few vegetarian broths as well.

    The natural inclination is to go nuts when ordering – and how can you not when there are so many tantalizing meat, seafood, vegetable, rice and noodle options. But diners will find that the tabletop fills up fast, piled high with foods waiting to be cooked, dinner plates, cooking tongs, snipping shears, serving utensils, water glasses, side plates filled with sauces and so on. Ordering additional items is as easy as flagging down a server or using the QR code assigned to the table.

    After putting in our order, we made our way to the well-stocked condiment bar. What diners lose in the way of a typical banchan spread they gain in a staggering selection of sauces, garnishes and spices. Our hands-down favorite is the house special sauce, but there is also shacha, hoisin, peanut-sesame, chile garlic and others. Add-ons include kimchi, fresh chopped garlic, jalapenos, chopped nuts, dried red pepper flakes and scallions. If you’re looking for lettuce, just put in an order with your server or via the QR code. (It’s free, of course.)

    By the time we got back to our table, the food started arriving. Before long we were grilling paper-thin slices of pork belly, ribeye and beef belly, which cook in seconds on the hot grill. Marinated meats like beef bulgogi and garlic chicken spit, spatter and smoke a little more, but the in-table exhaust manages to capture most of it. There was also jumbo head-on, shell-on shrimp, zucchini, radish, watercress and bok choi. Most items are appropriate for either the grill or hot pot; it just depends on one’s personal preference. Some, like udon and ramen noodles, go into the soup.

    With an adventurous group, there really is no more entertaining way to dine. Guests take turns manning the grill, adding raw ingredients, flipping vegetables, removing cooked items. Hot-off-the grill foods are dipped in sauce, paired with rice and washed down with icy shots of Soonhari soju ($13/bottle). It’s loud, it’s lively, it’s a wee bit chaotic at times, but it sure as heck beats a tepid burger on the sofa.

    During our meal, the griddle grate was swapped out three times, our hot pots were topped off with broth whenever needed, and empty plates continually cleared away. I appreciate the straightforward menu that lacks any appetizers, pricey up-sell items like wagyu beef, or anything else that detracts from the main event.

    In addition to the soju – including fruit flavors – there is beer, wine, cocktails, milk tea and fruit tea with boba.

    The beauty of having places like One Pot alongside our beloved legacy Korean restaurants is that we have options to suit our mood. When an AYCE blowout seems like too much fuss, we can take comfort in a quiet meal at one of our favorite mom-and-pop places.

    One Pot
    1825 Coventry Rd., Cleveland Hts.
    216-673-3888
    onepotusa.com

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    Douglas Trattner

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  • At Honest in Parma Heights, an Extensive Tour of India’s Regional Cuisines and a Vegetarian’s Delight

    At Honest in Parma Heights, an Extensive Tour of India’s Regional Cuisines and a Vegetarian’s Delight

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    Photo by Doug Trattner

    Some of the many offerings at Honest

    Like many kids growing up in Gujarat, Dharmesh Patel looked forward to dining at Honest, a well-known restaurant chain in India. Years later, after immigrating to Cleveland, graduating from college and settling down in Parma, he began seeing the Honest name popping up on this side of the globe. After nearly six years of pursuing a franchise, he opened his own local store in early 2023.

    “I always wanted to have a restaurant, and especially this one,” the owner explains.
    For many Indian-born diners, the name Honest evokes feelings of nostalgia, craving and confidence. The popular street-food concept is a safe place for strict vegetarians, with no meat ever allowed into the building. What’s more, many of the 100-plus items can be prepared for vegans and those adhering even to more restrictive Swaminarayan and Jainism diets.

    Patel purchased a former Friendly’s location in Parma Heights, one that he and friends often stopped into for ice cream after outings to Parmatown Mall. The 90-seat dining room is bright, open and appealing, with ice-blue booths and tables surrounded by walls of windows.

    Patel says that Honest hit upon a winning formula by combining street foods from various regions onto one menu, which appealed to people traveling throughout India. It’s also a formula that appeals to inflexible diners in this country, the owner adds.
    “Normally, whenever we go to a restaurant, somebody has to compromise,” he says. “But at Honest, if I want something light, I can get it. If my wife wants South Indian, she can get it. If my kids want North Indian curries or Indo-Chinese, they can get that. We can get it all in one restaurant.”

    The diverse menu combines South Indian dosas, Mumbai-style pav bhaji, Punjabi curries, Indo-Chinese noodle dishes and unique cross-over items like pizzas and sandwiches with origins in India. Despite the fact that Honest is billed as a street-food restaurant, the menu features numerous entrée-style dishes – and most items, street food or otherwise, are robust in size.

    An obvious place to start is with pav bhaji ($9.99), the dish that started it all. Often described as a vegetarian Sloppy Joe, the comforting blend is served piping hot alongside four warm, soft, fresh-baked rolls. The savory butter-enriched stew is garnished with cilantro, topped with chopped onions and scooped up with pieces of bread.

    Honest offers an intriguing selection of chaat, a diverse group of crispy, crunchy, saucy street-food snacks. In addition to the familiar pani puri, the restaurant prepares dahi puri ($8.99). The thin, brittle, hollow shells are filled with veggies, chutney, yogurt and fried noodles, making for bite-size snacks that pack an outsized punch.

    Dosa, the shatteringly crisp crepes served with sambar and chutney, get an Instagram-worthy glow up in the Dabang dosa ($13.99). Named after an Indian action film, this version is topped with vegetables, cheese and sauces, rolled, and sliced into cylinders. The result is a multi-layered treat that shifts diners from crispy to saucy to tangy to blissful.

    While Indian pizza seems like an American creation, Patel says that this popular munchy has origins in the dairy-rich region of Northwest India. The Bhakri ($8.99) starts with a crisp, dense crust that’s topped with tomato sauce, onions and peppers. As with any great pizza, the star is the cheese, in this case a creamy mild buffalo-milk cheddar from India’s famed Amul.

    More traditional curries like tikka masala, korma and kolhapuri join compelling Indo-Chinese dishes like gobi Manchurian and paneer 65. Tossed in a sweet and spicy sauce, the paneer ($12.99) is crisp and firm from flash frying, giving it a meaty texture. Served in an elegant two-handled vessel, the kolhapuri ($13.99) is loaded with crisp-tender veggies in a very spicy gravy (as requested). The naan ($3.49) here is tender, rich and pliable but not fluffy given that it’s made without eggs.

    To drink, there are yogurt-based mango lassis, fruity ice-cream based faloodas, and refreshing masala chaas.

    Meals like these make it easy to forget that you’re eating vegetarian. The food is packed with flavor, texture, and spice – and often enriched with butter, cheese and yogurt. Patel estimates the Greater Cleveland South Asian population at around 40,000, with many of those people electing to dine vegetarian often if not always. But these days, of course, more and more diners are in search of meat-free meals that don’t leave them feeling dissatisfied.

    “We did not anticipate that we would get a lot of customers who are American and into vegetarian, so we are discovering that,” Patel reports. “A lot of people – not just Indian or Asian – who are looking for vegetarian options are finding us.”

    Honest
    6400 York Rd., Parma Hts.
    440-307-2070
    honestcle.com

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    Douglas Trattner

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  • At Detroit’s Kalahari African Cuisine, get ready to go off-menu

    At Detroit’s Kalahari African Cuisine, get ready to go off-menu

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    If the chef at Tiliani recommends a restaurant, take heed. I am a fan of Hisham Diab, who helms the stellar new spot in Dearborn, and he’s the one who told me to try Detroit’s Kalahari African Cuisine.

    You should take Kalahari’s printed menu with a grain of salt (not that the food needs salting) — what’s actually available varies. Both times I dropped in, I was disappointed to find Kalahari out of maffe yap, a lamb and peanut butter stew, as that is Diab’s go-to dish. The owner says you can call ahead to find whether it will be offered on a given day (but go early). Otherwise, you may be greeted with “I have lamb, chicken, and fish.” Turkey wings, fufu, jerk chicken, stuffed roast lamb, fataya (fish patties), and steak with white sauce (!) are also listed. I wanted to try the ginger drink and the bissap drink, from hibiscus, but no go. Green tea in a footed glass was offered for free when the meal was over.

    I am always happy to order lamb, though, and enjoyed a big pile of crusty kabobs, many with the fat on, served with jollof rice. This was under the heading of “Dibi (Lamb),” whose description reads “kabob chicken, beef, or shrimps.” Like I said, trust not the printed word. On one occasion they substituted spring rolls for another dish and then undercharged us both for that item and for another one.

    Jollof rice is one of those dishes with infinite variations, country by country and cook by cook, involving tomatoes, onions, spices and whatever vegetables or proteins the maker desires that day, all cooked in one pot. In the mid-2010s West Africa saw friendly “jollof wars” over whose was best. Washington, D.C. holds an annual jollof contest that’s judged blind, to head off accusations of native-son favoritism.

    Kalahari’s chestnut-brown version appears simple, without visible additives, and it has a nutty flavor. Quantities were bountiful.

    We also enjoyed a crisp whole grilled red snapper, well done, easy to detach from its skeleton and worth the effort, served with spiced grilled onions.

    If you order the whole chicken, it will be chopped into square pieces, except for the drumsticks, warmly spiced and grilled a dark red brown. It’s not as tender or juicy as American fried chicken but worthy for the crunch and the spicing.

    Perhaps even more than these hefty main dishes, I liked Kalahari’s spring rolls, called “nems,” with nuoc mam sauce. The wrapper is a dream of lightness and crunchiness, delicately browned, stuffed with cilantro, shrimp, vermicelli, mushrooms, and onions. And they’re just three for $7. Sticking with the roll theme, chicken shawarma comes in a lightly crisped, thin pita, stuffed with well-spiced chicken chunks. Both of these would be good for takeout or for when you don’t want a heavy meal. Or just because they’re so good.

    Fried plantains varied from visit to visit, one night crisper and less sweet, but always served in a big delicious heap.

    Kalahari is very informal. Paper towels serve as napkins, though plates and silverware are real, not plastic (plastic forks being a regrettable growing trend). Walls are painted orange, tablecloths are bright, place mats are shiny gold. A mural of charismatic African fauna is the main decoration.

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    Jane Slaughter

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  • From mussels to feather bowling, Detroit’s Cadieux Café exudes charm

    From mussels to feather bowling, Detroit’s Cadieux Café exudes charm

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    Michelle Gerard

    The Cadieux Café draws an eclectic crowd.

    Cool is a quality difficult to define. There’s a feel to it, hard to put a finger on. If Cadieux Café is anything, it’s kinda cool, and my job here is to do that description justice. In response to one of our readers who recently took me to task over my love for the alliterative (sorry, still struggling, sir) and a penchant for “clunky,” run-on sentences (again, my apologies here), I’m resolved to write this review as clearly and concisely as I can.

    Bear with me. I’ll get better.

    Cool’s unknown quantity aside, Cadieux Café boasts one quality all bars and restaurants work hard hoping to emulate: it’s busy as can be. Walking in for dinner without a reservation on a recent Saturday evening, we were nearly turned away at the door.

    “Sorry, every table’s already taken,” a server let us know as though we should have known better than to just pop-in. Who knew? This place looks corner bar casual, inside and out. Being told Cadieux’s quaint and still mostly empty space was booked solid surprised me. Suddenly stopped in our tracks, sure enough, we noticed “reserved” signage atop every table, and felt instantly excluded. “You might find seats at the bar,” the server offered what consolation he could. Luckily, we did.

    Squeezing ourselves in, we sat down and ordered mussels, Belgium’s signature seafood and something Cadieux serves a la “Citroen” (bathed in lemon and fresh dill), “Forte Di Marmi” (garlic-white wine fume), and “Spicy” (subtly so, in Provencal-style tomato-basil broth). Like pros, we polished off impressively generous half-orders of all three ($15.95-$16.95, full orders $21.95); probably four dozen fresh, plump, moules served in big, steaming bowls with a choice of sides. Of those, crispy, longer-cooked fries paired classically well with our shellfish medley. Almost burnt to a crisp brussels sprouts ($2.00 upcharge) and mashed potatoes — made no better than average for their folding-in with wilted spinach — didn’t make as good an impression.

    As we segued into soups, Cadieux started filling up fast. Turned around in my barstool by all the buzz and bustle behind us, I took in the café’s vintage beer garden vibe: a close-quartered communal space framed with Old World and industrial Detroit-era photography of former Tour de France cyclists, Belgian street scenes, Great Lakes industry, iconic Detroit architecture, and such. With quirky-cool feather bowling happening in an adjacent space (think Italian bocce meets Scottish-Canadian curling with a curvy twist), and a live band booked to entertain a big following, we started feeling lively and lucky in our catbird seats at the bar. Before we’d finished good-as-gold onion soup (sherry-kissed? $7.25) and fewer spoonfuls of tapioca-thick and floury clam chowder ($4.95), we’d chatted up everyone around us. Bartender Brian (also a chef around town) was good enough to pen me a short list of his personal restaurant recommendations. A guy from North Carolina and I struck up conversation over the Duke baseball jersey I was wearing, and a woman to my left allowed harmless me some fairly innocent flirtations over the elbows we kept literally rubbing as she tipped hers with a friend.

    click to enlarge Cadieux Cafe is known for its feather bowling, something like a Belgian version of Italian bocce meets Scottish-Canadian curling. - Michelle Gerard

    Michelle Gerard

    Cadieux Cafe is known for its feather bowling, something like a Belgian version of Italian bocce meets Scottish-Canadian curling.

    “Keep drinking till you find me attractive,” I teased her. “But I’m 61, so from small talk to foreplay and beyond, we’ll need to be finished by 9:30.”

    By the time our main courses arrived, people were lined-up three-deep behind us to order drinks. Hands waving credit cards came between us. Loud voices barking beer, wine, and cocktail orders started ringing in our ears. Some helped drown out thoughts of buyer’s remorse over my Belgian Beer Stew ($16.95). Though its brothy, Belgian Ale-laced sauce (not nearly a gravy) packed plenty of beefy punch, it offered precious little substance besides; three or four bites of meat, maybe as many cut carrots, a single forkful of potato, and a preponderance of peas. Friend’s fish and chips ($15.95) proved a far better choice, with crispy, beer-battered cod fried just right and sided with crunchy-creamy slaw and another pile of pommes frites we appreciated as much as the first. And a plate of Belgian sausage ($12.95) brought mixed reviews. I liked the simple salt-and-pepper-seasoned links for their leanness and the snap of nicely browned and crisped skins, while friend who ordered them found them “dry and dull.” To each, his and her own. As to the braised red cabbage and mashed taters (hold the spinach by request), I failed to even try the former but rather liked the latter for both their buttery flavor and a slightly browned quality that reminded me of homemade mashed potatoes reheated in a frying pan. One wonders if that’s part of the process at Cadieux. If so, I’ve no complaint whatsoever.

    After bar staff informed us that Cadieux’s desserts were limited to Sander’s hot fudge Sundaes with or without cream puff ($6.95 and $4.95 respectively), we declined, deciding instead to surrender our seats to those who, by then, were pressing in to the point of breathing on our necks. With a friend feeling a bit claustrophobic and me hearing the siren song of a just-reopened Froyo shop back in Dearborn, we settled-up and said goodnight. I thanked Brian for the restaurant suggestions he’d jotted down (get ready, Mr. Paul’s, we’re coming in for Chateaubriand soon) and said goodnight to the strangers we’d had such fun making friends with at cool, convivial Cadieux. Then I left thinking I’d be back again for sure. For more mussels. For another seat at the bar and the service. For conversations with a crowd that seems to enjoy shooting the shit with strangers as much as I do, and for another taste of a watering hole space that satisfies the social animal in me to no end.

    This is that kind of place. So, go have some mussels. Broaden your horizons with feather bowling. Mix it up with an eclectic crowd. And stay for the show. I will next time. Cadieux’s just too cool.

    Location Details

    Cadieux Café

    Eat, drink, and be merry: These bars offer more than food and booze.

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    Robert Stempkowski

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  • With a New Waterfront Address, Sushi 86 Keeps Adapting and Evolving

    With a New Waterfront Address, Sushi 86 Keeps Adapting and Evolving

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    click to enlarge

    Sushi 86 is here to disprove that old adage about “good, fast and cheap.” In the time it would take an online food order to be delivered to one’s home or office, a diner could enjoy a speedy and delicious Japanese lunch – complete with soup, a trio of nigiri sushi and a roll – for the equitable sum of $25. And unlike that dreary workplace cubicle, this meal comes with nautical views of the North Coast Harbor and beyond.

    If you’re a fan of this tenacious local restaurant, then you know it’s wise to double check the address before heading out. Since Rachel and Mike Hsu opened the first shop in 2000, Sushi 86 has called seven different locations home. Compared to the first – a five-seat, 250-square-foot shoebox on Public Square – this latest residence is downright palatial. This past summer, the owners swapped their previous digs in the 5th Street Arcades for an attractive space at Harbor Verandas, which is a two-minute stroll from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. The fishbowl dining room offers panoramic views of attractions such as Browns Stadium, Great Lakes Science Center, SS Mather and the Goodtime III.

    There has always been a dearth of waterfront dining options in this neck of the woods – who can forget the maritime delights of Hornblowers? – and the situation hasn’t much improved. It’s understandable given the feast-or-famine economics of operating in a tourist district; Sushi 86 fills those gaps with steady event catering.

    Indoors, a 10-stool sushi bar anchors the 60-seat dining room, which is equipped with a pair of soft-seating areas that are ideal for a casual lunch or place to wait for carryout. When the weather warms up, diners will be able to enjoy those watery views from the other side of the glass thanks to a sizable harbor-side patio.

    Sushi 86 was created as the quick-serve alternative to raw-fish temples like Shuhei, where the Hsus worked prior to going solo. Their menu was shorter but fresher, they argued, with carryout-friendly items like rolls and bento boxes designed for harried commuters. The name “86” was a nod to the items that Shuhei would invariably run out of.

    All these years and locations later, Sushi 86 still plays it pretty tight. This isn’t the place to come for an exotic, ever-shifting roster of raw fish. Nigiri and sashimi lovers are limited to a greatest hits-style roundup of varieties like tuna, yellowtail, salmon, eel, mackerel and the like. Those fishes are available as part of a 3-piece ($11) or 6-piece ($21) nigiri plate or in the 6-piece sashimi box ($12). Uni was unavailable during a recent visit.

    Sushi 86 has always excelled at rolls, with a dizzying assortment of slender 6-piece rolls and fatter 8-piece rolls. Over the course of two meals we enjoyed the spicy scallop roll ($9.25), yellowtail jalapeno roll ($8.25) and the rainbow roll ($14.95). That last large roll featured large pieces of escolar, tuna and salmon draped over crab and avocado centers. The “best name award” goes to the 3-Way Reverse Cowgirl, a shrimp tempura, avocado and faux-crab salad devised by the band Hinder when they passed through town some years ago.

    In terms of starters, the options are equally concise, with edamame, seaweed salad and a dish of alien-red pickled baby octopus ($7.95) served cold in a sesame-flavored marinade. Inari ($3.50) is a sweet and savory snack of fried tofu skin stuffed with seasoned rice. An order of uber-crisp shrimp tempura ($8), it soon dawns on us, is one of only two items on the entire menu that is served hot, the standard miso soup ($3.75) being the other.

    Sushi 86 has survived these many years by adapting to the unpredictable forces around them. During Covid, management condensed the menu, went essentially virtual, and even sold off the liquor license. An as-yet-unopened poke concept was brought under the Sushi 86 umbrella. Those bowls are available here, generous portions of white or brown rice (or greens) topped with any combination of fish, veggies, toppings and sauces. The Shell-a-Bowl ($16.95), for example, features shrimp, “crab” salad, cucumber, avocado and crunch.

    After a meal of some nigiri, a few small and large rolls, and one of those bottomless poke bowls, rice fatigue begins to creep in. The good news is that, once again, change is afoot at Sushi 86. In the coming days and weeks, Hsu will be adding gyoza and ramen to the menu.

    Less than five years after peddling her liquor license, Hsu says that she’s found joy on the open market and will soon begin offering hard beverages.

    Sushi 86
    1050 East 9th St., Cleveland
    216-621-8686
    sushi86.com

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    Douglas Trattner

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  • TikTok famous foodie Keith Lee starts his Phoenix restaurant reviews

    TikTok famous foodie Keith Lee starts his Phoenix restaurant reviews

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    Former MMA fighter, TikTok star and self-proclaimed food critic Keith Lee has landed in Arizona.

    In his reviews, Lee acquires takeout from local restaurants. He then eats in his car, filming his reactions and giving precise point ratings on a scale from 0 to 10 for each dish. This simple, yet effective, format has grown Lee a combined following of nearly 18 million on Instagram and TikTok. And along with that following comes influence — and controversy.

    Positive reviews from Lee can result in restaurants seeing lines around the block of hungry customers wanting to try their food. This phenomenon has been dubbed the Keith Lee Effect.

    Lee’s negative reviews can hurt small businesses, especially when his fans pile on the negativity. They sometimes clash with local restaurant customers, who criticize Lee’s method of visiting random cities for a few days and sharing opinions without much context.

    click to enlarge

    Keith Lee posted a poll with four restaurant possibilities. The options included SugarJam The Southern Kitchen.

    Tirion Boan

    Where is Keith Lee going in Phoenix?

    So far, it seems Lee’s visit to Arizona is going well. On Feb. 21, he announced via Instagram and TikTok that he would soon visit the Grand Canyon State  — but didn’t say when. He then asked his followers for recommendations for restaurants in four categories.

    The restaurants should be “mom and pop spots that have great food and great customer service but could use some marketing,” popular spots voted on by locals, “restaurants from different backgrounds, different cultures and different ethnicities,” and lastly, the most popular spots on DoorDash.

    On Monday, Lee posted a poll to his social media asking followers to vote on the popular restaurant that most represents Arizona’s food scene. The options were: SugarJam, Latha, Brunch House and Ace of Wings.

    Then on Tuesday, Mesa restaurant Myungrang Hot Dog posted excitedly to its Instagram page that “something crazy happened.” Lee had stopped by.

    “We are beyond thankful,” the post said. “Many of you mentioned us in his recent post and he actually came! He is such an amazing guy. He has gifted us with something we will soon share with you!!”

    Myungrang Hot Dog is a massive chain with stores all over the world. The two Valley locations, in Mesa and Glendale, are operated by local franchisees.

    click to enlarge Republica Empanada in Mesa.

    Keith Lee tried and rated five different flavors from Republica Empanada in Mesa.

    Jackie Mercandetti

    Keith Lee’s first review in metro Phoenix

    On Tuesday night, Lee’s first Arizona review dropped on TikTok. He visited Republica Empanada in Mesa. According to his video, Lee’s wife was in a shoe store when a Republica Empanada employee saw her and recommended they visit the Mesa restaurant. She posed for a photo with the woman, who is later shown meeting Lee at the restaurant after he tries the food.

    Lee tried and rated five empanadas on a scale of 0 to 10. He gave the Cubana an eight, the chicken and mushroom an 8.5  and the jalapeno popper flavor a four, docking points for the texture being “overly soft.” Of the sweet options, Lee gave the Nutella banana an eight, and the Ruiz’s Pieces, a riff on the classic peanut butter and chocolate candy, a one out of 10. Lee does preface this low rating with the fact he’s not a huge fan of desserts.

    Overall, he praised Republica Empanada’s fresh oil, the crispy and flakey texture of the empanadas and was a fan of the salsa.

    “If this place is slow, in my opinion, it shouldn’t be,” Lee said — words that may hint at what’s to come for the small Mesa business. At the end of the video, Lee went inside the restaurant to find the woman who had recommended the eatery to his wife.

    “We told her no promises, but it might get a little crazy tomorrow,” he said. So far the video has 1.3 million views.

    Lee then says he left a $500 tip for the employees and an extra $600 to pay for any customer orders that came in after them.

    Bracing for impact

    So far, Lee’s visit to the Valley seems to be bringing positivity. But that’s not always the case when he rolls into town.

    When he visited San Francisco, chaos ensued. After local restaurants and media alike braced for Lee’s visit and the resulting reviews, he cut his trip short and left after three days. He shared that he’d suffered a severe allergic reaction, and also alluded to a general lack of love for the Bay area’s internationally acclaimed dining scene. He has also been vocal about his dislike of Atlanta’s food scene, which didn’t sit well with locals.

    When news media sends out-of-town reporters to cover local stories, it’s called parachute journalism and often, national reporters miss important context on a local story. The far-reaching nature of social media stardom has made parachute influencing a thing, too.

    However, as newsrooms continue to shrink across the U.S. and the number of traditional food critics dwindles, perhaps Lee represents a new sort of food critic.

    In Phoenix, food influencers abound yet few traditional food critics remain. The position is currently unfilled at the state’s largest publication, the Arizona Republic. At Phoenix New Times, we are lucky to have the insightful opinions of a freelance food critic, who writes one thoroughly researched, context-heavy review each month. But Dominic Armato’s definition of food critic certainly differs from Lee’s.

    Lee hasn’t announced his plans for the rest of his visit to the Valley. However, don’t expect to see him roll up to the counter at your favorite eatery. Lee most often uses family members to place his orders so he doesn’t receive special treatment and to maintain his credibility. However, if the Republica Empanada shoe store story is any indication, his wife is becoming equally recognizable.

    Whether the former MMA fighter’s Phoenix visit will result in the Keith Lee Effect or a messy food fight for Valley eateries remains to be seen. 

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    Tirion Boan

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  • As a finer dining destination, Ypsi’s Thompson & Co. is just north of nothing special

    As a finer dining destination, Ypsi’s Thompson & Co. is just north of nothing special

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    Courtesy photo

    Frankly, of our three first-course selections, only Louisiana shrimp satisfied.

    There’s a line separating culinary creativity in all its artistic license from the lesser art of cooked-up interpretation. And there’s discernable difference between dishes thoughtfully “deconstructed” and those merely reduced to pale comparisons of their classic preparation and presentation. Though its menu reads very American Southern-inspired, Ypsilanti’s Thompson & Co. aspired to little more than CliffsNotes versions of several deep South signatures during our recent dinner visit, dishing up pricey yet relatively poor samplings of a cuisine style it strains at doing justice to.

    More’s the pity, since the restaurant property itself proffers an impressive platform from which to perform. Stationed in Ypsi’s Depot Town since its Civil War army barracks days, T & C’s come current as a hopping hub for legions of food and drink-seekers, enlisted together to the cause of emancipating Ypsilanti from its longtime perception as almighty Ann Arbor’s poorer, college town relation. And certainly, the place was packed on our arrival after a short walk from free parking. Shoulder to shoulder with many others who’d marched in on a Saturday night, we found ourselves among ranks of a tony, mixed crowd of twenty-to-fiftysomethings, for the most part, looking uniformly well-coiffed and content as a collective, breaking bread and making merry throughout the sprawling interior.

    T & C’s laid-out long. A beautifully high-backed bar anchors one end. A live entertainment space staged with comfy furniture occupies an adjoining lounge area. The main bar and dining room — framed in iron girders, brick, and woodwork — is set with almost schoolroom-functional tables and chairs. Bookending the inside beyond that, a bit boxier-looking room likely serves some large party-banquet utility. It’s altogether expansive yet cozily cloistered. Outside, a patio dormant in winter conjures can’t-wait wishes for spring. From any angle, everything about the look and feel screams great date night destination, guys’/girls’ night out hang, or group gathering; a place you might want to keep in mind for any and all such occasions.

    Without doubt, Thompson & Co.’s enjoying some local hot spot status. It takes reservations and a two or three-person door staff to greet and seat its clientele adeptly (which it does), creating finer-dining expectations of paying for what you get while getting your money’s worth in return.

    Yet value perceptions proved the other rub we ran up against during dinner. Coupled with compromised, appropriation issues we took with the fare, the food experience fell flat for one reason or the other. The skillet cornbread, for starters ($9.50), was sugary and dense enough to pass for pound cake, much more so than corn-sweet and crumbly as one with traditional tastes for this down-South staple sustenance might be willing to swallow. Though the jalapeño jelly was a hoot, it could only help a ten-dollar, palm-sized serving of sweet, cakey bread and butter so much. Frankly, of our three first-course selections, only Louisiana shrimp ($16.25) satisfied, netting us a generous handful sautéed firm and plump in a piquant butter sauce we sopped and eventually squeegeed from their plating with nicely-charred, thick slices of still-spongy (in a good way) crostini. Cajun seafood spinach dip ($18.25), sadly, tipped the scales toward overall disappointment with the appropriately-named “rations” menu, affording us a meager ladling of what was essentially over-creamed spinach dotted with a morsel or two of chopped shrimp and crawfish tails, sorrier still under another let-down layer of torched-black, splotchy crust left under the flash broiler too long. Listen, I love the look, texture, and taste of things browned nice and toasty, but under a salamander, seconds count, chefs. Someone lost count in this case, and put out a product burnt in places which could and should have been caught — then quickly and easily replaced — before it left the kitchen pass.

    As we sat feeling a little singed over a rough start to dinner, Racheal, our server, began endearing herself to us with some plucky tableside manner. When she essentially asked me to “suck it in” during her first pass between my chair and the table behind us, I was instantly engaged and entertained. As a former restaurateur, I’ve always had a thing for hiring personalities to fill front-of-house positions. I’m convinced most customers enjoy a little back-and-forth with staff who can give as good as they get; tactfully, cleverly, and with good humor. Racheal was all that as she bandied with me to a point where dining companion Debra offered her a “can’t take him anywhere” apology for some of my comments over Racheal’s brushing my backside as she worked her way around me all evening. Racheal and I saw eye-to-eye, no butts about it. She held up her end of the business, being a personality chameleon who colored her table talk in the very tone I set for our table, when teasing her first squeeze by me to say hello. I loved your service, girl, and, between you and me, the way you framed your suggestions and answers to my ever-probing menu questions was brilliant. Kudos, Kiddo.

    As satisfying as the service was from start to finish, our entrées went on to leave us wanting. I liked that they took a temperature on our pan-seared salmon order ($29.25). Too bad the fresh broccoli that came with was so undercooked. I get al dente, but we got barely blanched florets with still-hard stalks. Gilded with a dull, congealed lemon butter, the nicely-crusted but noticeably under-seasoned fish fillet left us wishing we’d ordered something else. So, too, the étouffée ($24); another good catch of shrimp, crawfish (though hardly in evidence), and holy trinity veggies (bell pepper, onions, celery) smothered in a sauce somebody stopped building flavor into after they browned the roux. From Louisiana-spiced heat and buttery unctuousness to shrimp and shellfish stock ladled in, such added nuances are what distinguish stellar étouffée as the gastronomic bayou gods intended from utterly ordinary attempts to mimic this simply stewed masterpiece. What we had tasted was one-note floury and far from mastered. As a table share, Nashville hot chicken ($18.50) played better in tribute to Southern food hospitality, treating us to a slightly crispy, tender breast of bird, brushed and rubbed saucy and spicy, served on a grilled Challah bun built with crunchy, puckery pickle and creamy jalapeño slaw, sided with a big, piping-hot pile of skin-on, skinny fries. Most impressed by this sandwich plunked in the middle of some unimpressive dinner entrees, I’ve told myself to consider the possibility that T & C’s sandwich, pizza, and/or salad offerings — which I’ve yet to try — may prove the menu’s stronger suit, so I’ll commit to returning for a lunch sampling of those soon, and following-up on that in a future column. Fair’s fair.

    click to enlarge The small grilled steak ($31). - Robert Stempkowski

    Robert Stempkowski

    The small grilled steak ($31).

    For now, though, my grilled steak ($31) sears my mind’s lasting impression of what epitomizes Thompson & Co. as an evening meal destination. Check out the photo of that plate, which I just had to attach to this review. Car keys were included in the pic to give that small twist of striated Hanger Steak some scale. I understand this cut of beef is fairly prized for what it is. What it wasn’t was satisfying in any way whatsoever. I ate two bites, shared two bites, and left two bites. And that’s all there was to it: six bites. Total. The meat was essentially unseasoned to our palates, though cooked perfectly medium as requested. Chimichurri helped as a condiment, but didn’t make up for otherwise fairly flavorless beef. There was good news and bad news on the other go-withs. The grits were textbook: velvet creamy and cheesy. The red beans and rice were, again, a reductive representation of a side dish I think much better served classically, with its key ingredients combined all dirtied-up together, not as you see; in a tin lined with a paltry few beans and a melon ball scoop of plain white rice plopped atop. Meh.

    Did we have dessert? Sure: leaden doughnut twists that had no business masquerading as airy, soft and snowy Beignets ($8.25); their powder-sugared component almost abjectly absent in the presentation, and a Dairy Queen-take on Bananas Foster ($8.50) that featured an ordinary scoop of ice cream in a boat sunk by completely un-brûléed or otherwise caramelized segments of plain-sliced bananas afloat on a cold sauce that forsook all the luscious hot-cold yin-yang there is to love in a true rendition of Bananas Foster. As for vegan chocolate cake ($8), I concur with dining companion’s comment (she makes a mean chocolate zucchini bread): “Yeah, no. Not much going on, flavor-wise.”

    Paying our $185 bill, it offered an option to pay $178 by cash instead. It seemed small compensation.

    Leaving Thompson & Co., I looked for Racheal to thank her for her service, then walked out not looking forward to what I’d have to report. I’ll go again and give the fried green tomato salad a try, or maybe pizza with brisket or okra, and hope for better results.

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    Robert Stempkowski

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