I’m getting ready for a morning presentation and asked that an assortment of doughnuts be provided. Doughnuts both help to assure decent attendance — who doesn’t want a doughnut in the morning? — but also an engaged and alert audience that is dealing with the initial doughnut sugar rush.
It’s important to get to the conference room early, to open the doughnut boxes and let that unique doughnut fragrance fill the room. Once a doughnut is sensed, it’s impossible to resist.
There’s a good assortment here, including my favorite — a cake doughnut with dark chocolate icing. Also a few new doughnut options, like one with crumbled Oreos and another with pretzel sticks.
Yesterday Kish and I went out for lunch. When we were getting ready to place our order, the waitress pulled out an order pad — and I breathed a sigh of relief.
Why? Because lately I’ve been bedeviled by wait staff who don’t write down what I’ve requested, and my orders have inevitably been screwed up as a result.
It’s kind of maddening, really. The waiters stand there, listen as I tell them, for example, that I want only a slice of onion on my cheeseburger and specifically say that I don’t want lettuce or tomato or pickles. They nod reassuringly and then march off to the kitchen, and I groan inwardly, knowing that there is a better than a 50-50 chance that, when the order comes back, I’ll be scraping tomato and lettuce and pickle debris from my cheeseburger bun. But what’s a patron supposed to do? Hand the waiter a pen and piece of paper and plead with them to please, please, write down the order so there’s hope it will be correctly prepared and delivered . . . and thereby look like a jerk? Or wait until the order comes back and pleasantly point out that it’s wrong, so that the waiter has to trot back to the kitchen and bring out a new, correct order — and thereby further delay the meal? Or just accept that the order is wrong, eat it anyway so you’re not waiting even longer, and grumble at the injustice of it all?
Why, exactly, has it the no-write-down approach swept through the waiting world like a cold winter wind? Do waiters think that not writing down the order reflects their professionalism, or that we’ll be impressed at their memory capabilities and give them a bigger tip? Don’t they realize that, when most patrons see that the waiter or waitress isn’t writing down the order, their hopes for a pleasant meal take a tumble?
The waiting world works for tips, so here’s one: write it down, already!
When a new place opens up downtown, you’ve got to try it. But the first time I stopped by Nosh on High for lunch, it had a 20-minute wait and I was in a hurry, so we went to a nearby establishment instead. A 20-minute wait, for lunch! Is that because it’s getting the new restaurant rush, or because the food is really good? I had to find out, so yesterday we tried again — and persistence paid off. There was a 15-minute wait for tables, but there was room at the bar, so I finally got to sample what this new joint has to offer.
Nosh on High is located in the space formerly occupied by Cup O Joe, in the old Lazarus building on High Street. Its website emphasizes its tapas, which look tasty and quite elegant, besides, but the lunch menu has a more basic orientation — including sandwiches that Nosh calls “handhelds.”
I asked our friendly bartender for a recommendation, and she suggested the Philly dip or the duck BLT. I flipped a mental coin and went for the Philly, pictured above. It’s a terrific, hearty sandwich, with plenty of shaved beef on a crunchy french roll, covered in a delectable moray sauce that is cheesy and bursting with all kinds of flavor. And if you want even more kick for your sandwich (and who doesn’t?) you can dip it in the mini-soup bowl of sauce that Nosh generously provides. The sauce has a delectable, subtle flavor that works well with the sandwich — because when you’re eating a dip, the wetter the better — but also with the spicy Nosh potatoes that are part of the meal. In all, you get a lot of high-quality chow for $12.
The Philly dip is only one of several enticing lunch-time options, the dinner menu looks very strong, and they’ve done a good job of kitting out the old Cup O Joe space to look like a kind of upscale Manhattan bistro. So Nosh is posh, to be sure, but it hits the spot with its food fare. I’ll be adding Nosh on High to the lunchtime rotation.
When it comes to the story of ravenous consumption of unwanted Halloween candy left at the office coffee station, pictures are with a thousand Skittles:
Happy Halloween to all the ghosts, ghouls, and goblins out there!
Tonight is trick or treat night in Columbus, too. That means we’ll need to lay in a sufficient supply of Halloween candy to distribute to any kids who might come knocking, because you obviously don’t want to get caught short. Then we’ll eat most of the candy ourselves, and after we reach an appropriate level of disgust at our consumption we’ll take the rest of it into the office and leave it next to the coffee station for everyone to gorge on.
Loosen the belts, everyone! The two-month holiday candy, pie, and all things sweet binge period is about to begin!
It’s a tough assignment when a new restaurant occupies the space of an old, beloved, now-closed restaurant. It’s even tougher when the space being occupied is so iconic that both the new restaurant and the old restaurant took their name from the space itself.
That’s the challenge for the Flatiron Tavern, which opened this month at the northern edge of downtown Columbus. It’s located in the Flatiron building — a skinny, multi-story brick structure — and it replaces the Flatiron Bar & Diner, which was one of my favorite lunch spots and also a pretty good place to have a beer on a Friday afternoon after work. The old Flatiron was known, by me at least, for its interesting, Cajun-infused menu and specials and its consistent ability to deliver one of the very best cheeseburgers in town. It was a sad day indeed when the old Flatiron suddenly shut its doors — but my great experienced with the old venue also made me eager to give the new spot a good early look.
The Bus-Riding Conservative and I legged it over to the Flatiron Tavern yesterday for lunch. I was glad to see that the space looks pretty much the same — with the exception of a some TVs added to the walls, which thankfully were not playing at high volume — and that at least one of the old Flatiron staff members was manning his familiar station behind the fine old wooden bar. When the BRC and I got there the place was packed, which was a good sign, so we sat at the bar.
The Flatiron Tavern menu is a bit more limited than the old Flatiron carte, and there wasn’t the blackboard with specials that the old restaurant featured. So be it! Not surprisingly, I ordered a cheeseburger, which is served with chips. In my book, the cheeseburger is a pretty good test of a new restaurant. This cheeseburger didn’t reach the exalted level of the prior Flatiron burger, but it was perfectly good — and the next time I’m going to get a double. It’s pretty clear, too, that the new restaurant is still working out the kinks, with the staff hustling like crazy and things taking just a bit longer than they will when routines are established.
Still, it’s good to see an iconic space filled again, adding to our downtown dining options. I’ll be back.
In French, the piece de resistance is the most important or exceptional feature of something. At the Harbor Cafe in Stonington, Maine, it’s really the pie de resistance — because no meal is complete without a piece of homemade pie for dessert. Our favorite is the coconut cream pie, which is light as a feather and filled with crunchy coconut. It’s the perfect end to dinner.