Tales From an Urban Chef

The last time I went back to where I grew up, it was a different environment welcoming me. When I say “grew up” I mean where I was raised. Many friends and family might not know that I’m not a native Cincinnatian. I am actually a native of Washington state. I was born in an army hospital where my dad was stationed at Fort Louis outside of Olympia Washington.

I have no memories of actually being there. I was only about six weeks old when my mom traveled back to Cincinnati, but Cincy is definitely my home regardless where I was born.

I have friends I’ve been close to for almost forty years and a great supportive extended family who’ve helped me through extremely difficult times.

As noted in my most recent post, my last trip had multiple layers of grief. What initially was meant as a trip to pay respects to a lost friend, quickly spiraled into many layers that I had to quickly adjust to.

A mother unexpectedly transitioning to hospice, an absentee brother struggling with bipolar and my wife having to quickly exit Cincinnati to care for her elderly mother. I was gifted with a shit sandwich that I never requested but proceeded to chomp on it like my life depended on it.

Fast forward seven months and I found myself once again headed back home but for the first time in years, it was simply to reconnect. No one was sick, no one died, no one was needed anything but my company and I thought I was ready. Then shit hit the fan….again. Handfuls of it tossed straight into the whirling blades just to spray right into my awaiting face.

I don’t usually drive the ten plus hours across Pennsylvania to Ohio alone. My wife and I are great road trip partners and her absence was felt every mile I was on the road. I was exhausted most of the trip. Then add incremental shit storms of rain and by the time I entered Columbus I resembled the end stages of a crack addict. Having to pull over multiple times on I-71 because visibility was zero. This is what awaited me.

There were flash floods the day before and that didn’t help my mental state. I finally made it home. Unloading my shit in a torrential downpour I ended up face planting in my Aunts kitchen, hooking my foot on a dog gate. I’m fairly convinced I tore my rotator cuff! Yay another surgery!!!

I managed to pull myself together and start piecing together what this trip entailed. Probably taverns, friends, food and family in no particular order.

I spent a lot of time alone, just driving around Cincinnati. I have so many great memories of growing up there and wanted to revisit the haunts that I hold dear. One particular place I returned to was Cityview Tavern in Mt.Adams. I knew the owner from when we worked together at The Jewish Hospital as lab couriers picking up blood, urine and other ungodly things marinating in plastic tubs I care not to describe. I was hoping to run into a bartender named Cassidy that was kind to me during my times struggling with my mom, but sadly, she moved on to a diner in Northside. The views are still amazing.

Another Cincinnati must is the chili. Skyline chili. The only kind of chili I continously crave. Like a sirens trance, this starving sailor would crash a thousand ships into jagged rocks to get that 5 way and cheese coneys!

As a chef, this trip was all about food and it didn’t have to have a Michelin star next to it. I’m a working class guy, fill my gut with good food and watch me smile. The next pub I loved to frequent wasn’t just about good grub but the people who put it all together. Oaks Tavern in Oakley have some of the friendliest staff I’ve ever encountered and they remembered me seven months later. Miles who works in the kitchen recognized me even sans the beard seven months later. The place just rocks.

I made a previous post about fried chicken. If one to end up on a desert island and was able to eat one meal and only one, my choice would be fried chicken. I mentioned the Greyhound Taven in Ft.Wright Ky, but I ventured down Kelogg ave in the east end to the Hitching Post. It’s basically a hole in the wall that serves up amazing chicken with great sides. As per my picture, most folks order to go. Not this guy.

One restaurant that holds a place in my heart is The Northside Yacht Club. I met so many friendly and supportive folks while drowning my sorrows the last time I was home and their funky pub grub is to die for that I had to make a return trip. Even their veggie beyond burger rocks. And they make a killer martini.

My oldest friend Chris invited me for dinner. We both being avid foodies, I always jump at the chance to get together and share some wine, food and hours of great conversations. We’ve been friends for forty five years.

Chicken Picatta and Risotto

Trips home don’t usually include a culinary splurge. As you can see by my recent posts, I’m a working man over here!

It’s been tempting since Cincy’s dining scene has exploded with great places to eat. My friend Chris and I decided on splurging this time back. I chose Bouquet because my wife and I ate here a few years ago and our experience was excellent.

We decided on their prix fix menu so we could try multiple courses that wouldn’t stuff us or break the bank. We included wine as well. The food and service was incredible. As seen by my pics below, I encourage you to make a trip.

Cardamom cake with rhubarb

On my way back to Pennsylvania, I usually stop halfway and stay overnight so I’m not delirious by the time I get home. That morning, I felt rested and determined. I missed my wife dearly, and decided to plow straight through. A little over eight hours later, I was back home to my lovely wife’s welcoming arms. Amd of course my little nugget Harley. It was a great trip seeing all my friends and family.