Saturday, February 22, 2014
Eating Red
Red Feather Kitchen serves up globally inspired, from-scratch dishes
BY PAMA MITCHELL · FEBRUARY 17TH, 2014 · DINER
Short Rib with roasted vegetables - Photo: Marci Rhodes
Red Feather Kitchen and Wine Bar comes from a partnership of three Ohio natives — chefs Brad Bernstein and Brett Crowe and sommelier Devon Barrett. Each has wide experience in the restaurant and hospitality industry and their friendship and shared backgrounds led to this new addition to the Eastside Cincinnati dining scene.
Located in the former Boca space in Oakley, Red Feather serves up from-scratch house-made dishes using the best possible ingredients. Described as New American, Bernstein says the partners wanted to create a chef-driven restaurant reflecting the diversity of the global influences they each picked up as they honed their craft. They also envision Red Feather as an unpretentious, approachable, neighborhood spot that serves “fun food that people enjoy,” Bernstein says.
I went with my husband and four friends on a recent busy Friday night less than two months after the restaurant opened. We arrived fairly early but the dining rooms were already filling up, and the bar definitely had the energy of a Friday happy hour. My husband and I elbowed our way in to try a cocktail while waiting for our friends.
The cocktail list ($9 each) includes “Vintage” drinks — such as Negroni, Sazerac and a Sloe Gin Fizz — and another section headed “Voguish.” From the vogue list, I ordered the Eastsider (bourbon, orange bitters, grapefruit and basil, among other ingredients), which was more fruity and less bourbon-y than I had hoped. My friend had better luck after we were seated with the After You (gin, dry vermouth, lime and roasted pear-thyme syrup).
The most noticeable interior changes at Red Feather include renovations to the front bar, where they removed the semi-circular bar from Boca days — chef Bernstein says it took up too much space — and installed a rectangular, antique oak wainscoting bar
. The same oak now lines the far wall in the main dining room, an effort to “soften the tone of the restaurant,” Bernstein says. Otherwise, in addition to the front rooms, two smaller dining areas make up the restaurant, or guests can reserve seats at a counter in front of the open kitchen — which can make for an amusing evening, but also a sweaty one because of the proximity to ovens and grills.
Among the lighter appetizer options, we tried two of the salads: La Quercia Prosciutto (with arugula and kale, Marcona almonds and Manchego; $12) and Humboldt Fog Goat Cheese (field greens, pecans, roasted pears and dried cherries; $11). The goat cheese salad was more generous with the goodies, while the other was somewhat overloaded with greens and not quite enough protein. My husband raved about his butternut squash soup ($7), garnished with pumpkin seeds, pumpkin oil and apple-fennel compote. We also ordered the Hand Pulled Mozzarella ($9) — listed in a menu section labeled “To Share” — with grilled baguette and olive tapenade. The dish would have been improved with more of the tapenade than we got in our serving, but the flavors and textures worked together nicely.
For the most part, the entrées were well executed. The standout was my Short Rib ($26), consisting of fork-tender pieces of slow-cooked beef atop celery root mash with pieces of roasted root vegetables. Our waiter said this was becoming “a signature dish” in the restaurant’s short life so far, and I can see why. Two of our party opted for Crispy Skin Salmon ($23), which was another winner. Its Asian-influenced flavors included shiitake mushrooms, bok choy and zucchini pulled together with just the right amount of soy-bourbon glaze. My husband liked his Roasted Chicken ($19) with grits, roasted cauliflower and Brussels sprouts.
We found the Sweet Potato Agnoloti ($18) disappointing, however, with too many sweet elements including undercooked apple slices and not enough of the sage cream listed as an ingredient. My friend left most of it on her plate, but filled up on the house-made bread and surprisingly delicious butter. (We all raved about the butter; the table next to us ordered an extra helping of bread and butter for dessert.)
The service was efficient and nicely paced. Nobody hovered, and yet we didn’t have long waits between courses even though the restaurant was slammed. After a round of cocktails, we mostly ordered wine by the glass from a well-chosen selection that was fairly priced.
For dessert, we passed around an order of Apple Crumble — warmed and topped with a large scoop of vanilla ice cream — and Green Tea Panna Cotta with pomegranate coulis ($7 each). The dessert menu also includes a short list of ports and dessert wines by the glass, but we didn’t indulge.
Red Feather appears to be a unique and welcome entry to its neighborhood and worth a try even if you live elsewhere in the region. Reservations are essential on weekends and probably are a good idea on other nights, too.
Red Feather Kitchen and Wine Bar
Go: 3200 Madison Road, Oakley
Call: 513-407-3631
Internet: redfeatherkitchen.com
Hours: 5:30-10 p.m. Tuesday-Thursday; 5:30-11 p.m. Friday-Saturday; 5:30-9 p.m. Sunday; brunch 11 a.m.-3 p.m. Saturday and Sunday
Friday, February 21, 2014
From the April 2014 issue of National Geographic Traveler
The subterranean dank, which no sun has ever warmed, smells like yeast. Its chilly air pinches my neck. A weak light coming from the opening above makes a pool around the ladder I’ve climbed down, but beyond is pitch black. I tap a flashlight app on my phone, and a vaulted ceiling flickers into view. Is it a Maya temple? An Egyptian tomb? No. I’m in a 19th-century lagering tunnel 45 feet beneath the sidewalks of Cincinnati, Ohio. Victorian breweries fermented and cooled beer in this catacomb. Located in the Over-the-Rhine neighborhood, the chambers were reopened by American Legacy Tours, a bunch of local guys who like nothing better than to poke into the city’s dusty history. And talk beer.
“We had more than 36 breweries in Cincinnati at one time,” my guide, Brad Hill, tells me. “A hatchet-toting Carry Nation barreled into town [in 1901] to stop the depravity. She took one look at the tippling—more than 140 saloons on Vine Street—and turned tail and fled,” he says. “Prohibition closed them, and the tunnels were forgotten.” I feel like Harrison Ford discovering the Lost Temple of Suds.
Indy meets Cincy. Actually, here it’s all about “the indies.” As much of America decamped for the suburbs or the coasts, artists, craftspeople, and entrepreneurs rebuilt entire Cincinnati neighborhoods alongside impassioned longtimers. When I began hearing about it down in my own adopted renaissance town, New Orleans, I had to see the transformation for myself.
AS I SIP BOURBON with a few such pioneers at Japp’s, a former wig store on Main Street, the discussion ranges from the whereabouts of Pappy Van Winkle, the famously elusive bourbon from neighboring Kentucky, to the details of the incongruous bar in front of us, made from cabinets that once housed hair destined to crown the heads of robber baron heiresses.
“What’s changed? Why Cincy now?” I ask.
“A shift in consciousness,” suggests Peggy Shannon, a former New Yorker. Her start-up, Queen City Cookies, provides a coveted treat for locals as well as a taste of the city’s new prospects. “I’ve lived in a lot of high-energy places, and here the excitement’s beginning to percolate.”
I watch her spout enthusiasm for her new home, and Cincinnati strikes me as a drum major for a parade of heartland towns—from Milwaukee to Indianapolis—now marching to a different beat. Their heritage (rich) and their living costs (relatively cheap) have attracted interest, especially from millennials saddled with job expectations (lower) and college debt (higher). But Cincinnati stands out. Shannon thinks she knows why.
“We offer world-class art, extraordinary architecture, and a get-things-done attitude,” she says. “Cincinnati’s reputation has gone from musty to must-see.”
Certainly, one addition not to miss is 21c Museum Hotel, a ten-story hostelry on Walnut Street. A landmark building that nuzzles Zaha Hadid’s Contemporary Arts Center, 21c is packed with so much modern art guests could be forgiven for thinking they were sleeping in the museum itself.
“We are a museum first and a hotel second,” says collection manager Eli Meiners, who tours me around the first two floors, open 24/7 for anyone off the street who wants to look at artists such as Do-Ho Suh and Astrid Krogh. Installations, many by Cincinnatians, occupy every guest floor and change regularly. On mine, the elevator opens upon a life-size sculpture of the singer Madonna heeling her go-go boot through a Picasso. My room is sleek—all lines—except for a four-foot-tall polyurethane penguin as yellow as French’s mustard. In the bathroom, hotel designers commissioned local Rookwood Pottery to create a witty series of white tiles brandishing body parts—lips, noses, breasts, belly buttons. I feel a little as if I’m part of the spectacle.
ON A STROLL ABOUT TOWN, Cincinnati shows more tricks up its sleeve. Downtown proves dense, walkable, and handsome—filled with skyscrapers of many eras, from the marble and terra-cotta PNC building, opened in 1913, to the postmodern assemblages of the Proctor & Gamble headquarters. The National Underground Railroad Freedom Center is here, a testament to the city’s crucial role in the Civil War era. And then there’s the dazzling art deco Union Terminal, shaped like a band shell, that was the city’s train station when it opened in 1933. It now acts as a cultural roundhouse, with six institutions including the Museum of Natural History & Science, the Cincinnati History Museum, and the Duke Energy Children’s Museum.
Stacked like library books on an arc of hills, 19th-century town houses form neighborhoods such as Mount Adams, Mount Auburn, and Over-the-Rhine. Walking down to the Ohio River, I find myself at the city’s newest attraction: 45-acre Smale Riverfront Park, squeezed between the Reds and Bengals stadiums. It’s part of the gazillion-dollar effort, called “the Banks,” to reinvent Cincy’s neglected waterfront.
Nick Dewald is waiting for me at Moerlein Lager House, a modern beer hall and garden across the street from the park. In their free time Nick and his wife, Lindsay, head up City Flea, a curated market that functions as an analog Etsy—bringing a hundred of the city’s makers together with buyers every month. After lunch we go to the park, admiring the fountains and fresh plantings. We rock on metal swings as big as park benches, facing the river and the blue Roebling suspension bridge, the proof of concept for its more famous progeny, the Brooklyn Bridge. I’m sitting on Ohio’s front porch.
“Our historic industries were about making things, and that’s returning,” Dewald explains, citing Losantiville, a group of industrial and furniture designers taking inspiration from Cincinnati’s old traditions of wood carving and manufacturing. “And there’s beer!” he adds.
In addition to the rebirth of craft beer like that of Bavarian brewmaster Christian Moerlein, Dewald tells me, there’s a host of new labels—Mt. Carmel, Rivertown, and Rhinegeist, an upstart in the brewery district north of downtown.
“You have to check it out,” he says. So I do.
Like so much of this industrial town, the brewery district is filled with mechanical trappings from an earlier time. Pulleys and joists. Brick warehouses. Wood beams. Glazed tile. In Cincy, things whir, creak, and trundle. They don’t swoosh or ping. As workmen jackhammer some concrete, Rhinegeist owner Bryant Goulding greets me. He shows me where the tasting room is being readied in a cavernous space with skylights.
“There’s no way this could happen in California—it’s too expensive,” says the former San Franciscan, who moved here to open Rhinegeist. “But Cincinnati makes dreams come true.”
I wish him luck and return downtown, trading industry for glamour—the Netherland Plaza hotel, now a Hilton, in the 49-story Carew Tower. Wandering across the slick marble of the lobby, I nearly break my neck taking in the French art deco: foliated bronze light fixtures, a ram’s head fountain, and gilded ceiling murals of leaping gazelles and bow-lipped shepherdesses. It’s a concrete sonnet to the jazz age and the best inspiration for a gin martini since Jay Gatsby.
Later I join throngs of people gathered at Fountain Square in front of the “Genius of Water,” a nine-foot-tall goddess who crowns the 1871 Tyler Davidson fountain. As night falls she becomes the muse to a rock band in the plaza, electric guitars drowning out the plash of falling water. Everyone lingers as if not wanting the music to end.
“Used to be downtown closed at 8 p.m.,” says the Rev. Herschel Willis, a few blocks away at Piatt Park. The smoker at his Fins, Feathers and Bar-B-Q restaurant is sending plumes of tangy woodsmoke curling past the bronzed pate of Ohio son President James A. Garfield. “Now that’s the time the movers and shakers come out.”
Nowhere is the clamber upward more evident than in Over-the-Rhine, a formerly down-on-its-luck neighborhood about the size of New Orleans’ French Quarter, believed to contain the country’s largest collection of 19th-century Italianate buildings—943.
“Over-the-Rhine was home to thousands of German immigrants who came to the boomtown of Cincinnati in the early 19th century,” explains real estate agent Seth Maney, who writes a blog called OTR Matters. I’m munching on a rather un-Teutonic meal of pork buns and octopus salad with Maney and others at Kaze, a Japanese restaurant on Vine Street. Nearby are intriguing shops like Switch, a lighting store, and Article, a men’s shop that hawks small-batch Noble Denim jeans made in Cincinnati.
“They brought their taste for hard work, architecture, and craftsmanship,” Maney continues, “but somehow we forgot OTR and its lessons. Its name tarnished.”
Perhaps tenacity saved Over-the-Rhine. Even as scars from race riots in 2001 were slow to heal, some residents stayed put. The old German community refused to abandon its heritage—in fact, priests still conduct a weekly Mass in German at Old St. Mary’s Catholic Church. And now, finally, residents and newcomers like Maney and his friends seem to be staging a revival.
I HAD HEARD SIMILAR optimism expressed earlier at Senate, another OTR restaurant. “Two and a half years ago it was scary to come down Vine Street,” Patrick Stroupe had told me over the rattle of his cocktail shaker mixing a drink. “Now it’s an amazing assortment of restaurants and stores, with more on the way. This is a town full of good ideas.”
Many of those come from the Cincinnati Center City Development Corporation, known locally as 3CDC and the source of some $300 million of public and private investments in the neighborhood. The favorite project so far, most everyone agrees, is the remake of Washington Park, an eight-acre green space. The morning I visit, retirees Robert and Glenise Maxwell are basking in the sun on a bench facing the redone tile-roofed bandstand where German oompah bands used to play and, more recently, heroin deals went down.
“That’s over now,” says Robert as he pushes back his red baseball cap to scratch his gray hair. The couple, married for 48 years, are longtime residents who have seen their neighborhood down and now see it up. Children run past, screaming with delight as hidden jets of water spurt to life beneath their feet.
The Music Hall, a vast castle of bricks and turrets, fronts its northwest side like a curtain waiting to rise on the community’s second act. “It was built with nearly four million bricks,” says architect Haviland Argo, as we eat alfresco at the Anchor, on the park’s periphery. “Inside, the Springer Auditorium has some of the world’s best acoustics for a musical setting, though maybe the most interesting noises come from the ghosts purported to haunt the place. The land it stands on was once a cemetery.”
I’m pleased to devour the gossip—and my trout. This city has always enjoyed its food: Famous for their chili (beans optional), Cincinnatians spoon down two million pounds of it annually, including 850,000 pounds of shredded cheese. Downtown, a beehive-topped waitress at Hathaway’s Diner sets me up with an order of eggs and goetta (a kind of scrapple). At top-rated restaurants such as Boca, Abigail Street, and Local 127 on Vine, chefs draw on deep traditions while kicking things up a notch. Local 127 pays tribute to the city’s 19th-century reign as a pork-packing center: The “Porkopolis” plate heaps with ribs and sausage, an ode to the whole hog as well as an old city nickname.
THIS TOWN GAVE America iconic brands such as Tide and Ivory soap, so it seems a fitting home for the American Sign Museum, a 1907 factory building in Camp Washington with 600-plus signs.
A 20-foot-tall genie straddles the entrance. Inside, it’s a flashing, buzzing, amping display of lettering exploding in neon and wattage. A McDonald’s sign blinks from the era of 15-cent burgers. A revolving satellite from Anaheim, California, orbits yellow neon Howard Johnson’s and a glowing roster of other motel names. The museum even has its own “Mona Lisa”—a wall-size housewife pushing Bubble Up soda—as well as a time line of the history of 3-D lettering.
I find another sign of the times when I turn a corner. In front of a wall of barn timber advertising Mail Pouch Tobacco, men and women sit in pairs as if speed dating. Small-shop owners from the Northside neighborhood are networking with graphic designers and sign fabricators. They’re looking to create public faces for their enterprises that will be colorful and practical while reflecting the free-spirited community, from Take the Cake bakery to Shake It Records.
“We want to train the next generation of sign makers,” says museum founder Tod Swormstedt. “And help [the Northside] in the process.”
LATE THAT EVENING, I’m back in Over-the-Rhine when I encounter a knot of people in a parking lot. There’s a sudden puff of flame. Startled, I draw back. Is it the circus? “Night Owl Market, bro,” says a happy, if overly lubricated, young man.
Twentysomething friends Sally Yoon and Nadia Laabs started this conglomeration of food trucks and artisan booths on Main Street. Not far from Findlay Market, Ohio’s oldest-running produce hall (it opened in 1855), the event is held monthly from 10 p.m. to 3 a.m. and harnesses the energy of a rising downtown. Merrymakers come on foot and bike.
Tonight a cluster of revelers are dancing to a merengue band, while others are trying to swivel hoops around their hips.
After the past few days of having my assumptions confounded, midnight hula-hoopers and fire twirlers scarcely faze me. As I watch the mirthful crowd, anything seems possible. A microbrewery. An art hotel. A restored neighborhood. For now, I think I’ll give the hula hoop a whirl.
Contributing editor Andrew Nelson often writes about cities, from Detroit to San Francisco. Photographer Melissa Farlow shot Quebec for the February/March 2013 Traveler.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
TEDxCincinnati
April 7 2012— The first annual independently organized TEDxCininnatiChange event took place in the Queen City this Saturday, within the reclaimed art-inspired sanctuary known as St Michael.
Jamey Ponte, Jami Edelheit and their TEDx team brought the internationally recognized TEDtalks to our community with a think tank of “ideas worth sharing.” A streaming of TEDtalks via Berlin ended with an inspiring and frank discussion by Melissa Gates who champions international women’s rights and women’s choice. Great food, amazing musicians, dedicated designers and volunteers, and local speakers kept the venue intention rolling high all day.
This set the stage for the following celebrated speakers. A description of what the speakers had to say and how their ideas are altering the face of change in Cincinnati continues…
Lori Kran respects children. Remember how you loved your favorite teacher and it changed your life? This happens everyday at the Cincinnati Waldorf School. Lori Kran has a Ph.D., in History alongside a Waldorf accreditation from philosopher Rudolf Steiner. Lori shares how a Waldorf education engages a heart connection first to infuse deep passion. Students leave prepared to go into the world with serious academic enlightenment and an understanding of the needs of others. One practical example of this teaching is from a fourth grade Waldorf teacher who would tackle fraction math not simply by conceptualizing a pizza diagram, but would have the students eat the pizza by its fractioned slice. There are more examples but its basic point is, this acclaimed philosophy and process-oriented instruction will not be held to a myopic test-driven standard. This education is a priority for those who study edification and education because Waldorf teaching is child centered to deliver intellectual and empathetic results...and it starts in the heart.
Ashley Backett gives to those in need. Ashley founded an organization whose mission is to inspire the growth of peace and the stability of community through the encouragement of regional arts and culture. She recognizes even a simple pair of shoes to those who have none means so much. Simple things can be done to contribute. It comes from awareness and goes into action. Ashley asks we use creative thinking to make a difference in the lives of those who need so much.
Ramsey Ford brings his commitment and business of design to help solve the toughest problems. Ramsey addresses the unequaled power of poverty-driven consequences to make a change in the lives of others who have little hope. In doing so he went to India to support a community who had the idea to clean their air, improve their health and make more local jobs. Ramsey and his team used design as a relationship-building tool to improve thinking, start businesses and generate sales. He continues to works to empower the poorest of the poor with these groundbreaking principals.
Sarah Terrell changes a room. Sarah is a classically trained harpist who brings hope and healing and connects with people who are overlooked by society. Guests sat transfixed as she played the harp, while each sensitive note led the room into the nerve of change. With her generous talent, the entire sanctuary transformed and her music opened a space of beauty. Sarah’s touch altered our conscious moment. Perched high atop the arch and beams of the sanctuary, she filled the rafters with trickled-down sound and bathed us in utter peace.
Jim Swill brings his technology acumen as he explains technology is changing the face of the spoken word. JIm believes our culture is born to take things for granted and technology produces enormous challenges with its rapid-fire options. His understanding of this dilemma elaborates how many choices we have each day by using technology and what a dilemma it creates.
Samuel Phillips ”… is about the "frustration of originality." As a writer, Samuel uses a unique inspirational tool, others original ideas. On a vintage blue Sears typewriter, Samuel takes the exasperation of his ideas from other writers, and turns it back into his creative work and process.
Jean Francois is in the business of waffle making. Jean has made it a master’s science. A restaurant owner with three masters’ degrees, it was Jean's exceptional waffles, encouraged by street vendors in his homeland of Brussels, that inspired him. Jean started out small making waffles in Findley Market and grew his business into a full scale Belgian bistro. Still to this day, the concept of the street vendor stays with Jean as his business continues to grow. Jean believes good food makes people happy and the world of food carts are bringing a new and exciting emerging energy to the life of the city.
Andrea Sission and Peter Ohs love the medicine of perspective. Andrea and Peter were filmmakers living in Iceland on a Fulbright Fellowship and were transformed by the landscape surrounding them. Their time in Iceland brought an idea of design and creativity to help heal and foster great wellbeing. They believe in "contextual happenings" to bring about change in health. A new world rose for them after seven years living in this environment, as they created a film-design duo called, Lauren Edward. They believe this different perspective is an avenue to healing mental health.
“Honest Abe” makes music in the present moment. He jams a free-spirit hum with a sensitive beat, rhythm and riff. His tender drumming and emotional offering set a musical spark to TEDx and left the room with a unique energy to = perfect.
Alex Sheba founder of Watch This, a film project and Cincinnati’s first YELP manager, Alex is a guru on what to say and what to post on the Internet. "If you don’t want your words out there forever…don’t put it on the Internet!" says Alex. Yet he supports the plight of people everywhere who are unprepared to step into this awaiting abyss. The internet is a power and explosive presence and a confident voice is needed to write online. Alex describes how to be trusted and post on the Internet, how to show your best self, and how to stop hiding. He reminds us all, people will never come to you, you must be brave and go to them. Alex believes our online and offline personas are connected, so with courage we must understand how to celebrate and embrace our online profile, wisely.
Daniel Nebert, MD is an expert in the field of evolutionary genetics and genomics, and a UC Professor of Environmental Health and Pediatrics since 1989. Dr Nebert developed the “Go Fish” project. In laymen’s terms it goes somewhat like this, the genes of certain fish are taken form its host and expressed by micro injecting into the next host fish, and this somehow turns on a necessary gene. The outcome of this study is to detect pollution and then detox the water. You heard it right! Dr Nebert has developed a way to use fish to clean water…and the good doctor is looking for backing to get it funded.
Stacey Sims calls us to change the physical. Stacey considers herself a "change agent" and is founder of the True Body Project. She explores movement through self-examination and studies how to connect and disconnect emotionally and physically. Her talk included active, physical participation with the TEDx audience. Stacey also described two primal ways we understand the world, through fear and through orienting to our surroundings, and both have an impact on how we live. Stacey concluded her talk with a movement excercise to speed change and renewal. No being shy in this room!
David Mack is a writer, artist and author of comics and children’s stories. Author of the KABUKI novels, David’s inspirational and acclaimed work dives deep into brave storytelling. You could have heard a pin drop as TEDx attendees sat captivated by David's flair for speaking and provocative wisdom. "It is better to do what we love. People there IS no job security,” Mack attacks! ...Really? This honest Abe went on to suggest "... rotate your procrastinations to get done what must be accomplished and build momentum." Then quickly reminded us all "being human we are going to fail." Besides having talent David has a point. Don't we all grapple with failure no matter who we are? Don't we have more to offer, in every possible way, doing something we love? Last he concluded “…don’t be afraid to break traditions and borders. Have a wonderful failure now and then. Because when this happens, it means you are on the right path. Keep showing your work to people no matter what …and remember the most amazing word to get you where you want to be (look on the back of the shampoo bottle, people) is ‘repeat’.”
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