Stir Crazy

25385 Cedar Rd
Lyndhurst, OH 44122
(216) 381-7600
www.stircrazy.com

by Beau Cadiyo

In law school, one is thrust into a situation where one pretends to be close to people that one can barely tolerate. The cattiness, name-calling and petty disputes are legion and legendary. Someone told me that law school is not for making friends. Law school is for learning and, for many, being miserable.

It’s only after law school that you realize who you liked in law school, and by then you’ve lost the opportunity to see your favorite classmates every day. That’s how I began to feel with Frank Duffy and Frank Broadbent. Although I liked them in school, I really started to appreciate them afterward. Thus, it was fortuitous that I made plans with Duffy for dinner and Broadbent happened to park next to me and joined us.

I’d been to Stir Crazy once before, with an ex. We were living together and we went for her birthday. She complained for most of the dinner about how I hadn’t planned anything to celebrate. To shut her up, I told her about the surprise party I’d put together for later that evening. Immediately, she began complaining about how I’d ruined the surprise, and how she’d always wanted a surprise party, ever since she was young. That was in the middle of winter, and we’d been bundled up against the chill. This time I sat outside in the sun, with a gin and tonic, and noted with pleasure an item denoted “*NEW*” on their menu: the bánh mì.

I’d first heard of a bánh mì in an article in the New York Times five years ago. These Vietnamese sandwiches were said to be sweeping New York at the time. A bánh mì is, quite simply, a French baguette with Vietnamese filling, and is a culinary child of colonialism, much like Thai iced coffee. In New York, small family shops serving fresh baguettes and with Vietnamese filling were having trouble keeping up with demand. I first tasted one in Columbus, at the North Market, but was geographically constrained from reviewing it. Eleven months later, I was at Legacy Village, and I knew what to order, and I was excited.

Later, Reuben told me that he’d never heard anything good about Stir Crazy. I wish he’d told me before. The bánh mì came with a coleslaw and a pile of candied ginger, both appropriate for the Ahi Tuna Sashimi I’d ordered as filling. The sandwich was medium-sized and well-presented. The bread was admittedly good, but the rest of it was a disappointment. The ahi, seared on the outside and pink within, was tough and tasted slightly stale; it should have been yielding and smooth. Anything else in the sandwich was forgettable (as I’ve completely forgotten it). The coleslaw was, again, mediocre, but the crushed peanuts was a nice touch. The ginger, which I’d been looking forward to, was bright orange, rubbery and saccharine sweet. I kept eating it, hoping that it would change flavor or reveal subtlety I hadn’t found before, but in the end it was simply bad.

The bánh mì, 1/3 of an order of decent duck wraps, a cup of (almost) hot-and-sour soup, my gin and tonic and a generous tip ended up just under $30. We then sat around talking shop about our post-law-school lives. Eventually, we got around to pondering whether others encountered the same problems with practicing law that we were encountering. I was reminded of the advice given to me by the study abroad people at my college: “Remember, EVERYTHING YOU FEEL IS NORMAL.” Surely, the girl who admitted that the only reason she went to law school was to stock her closet, or the Napoleon who once bragged about punching someone in the back of the head and running away, or the girl whose sole ambition seemed to be to satisfy her mother’s wish that she marry a wealthy lawyer and get alimony (something she’s well on the way to doing) – surely, we thought, they are all feeling the same pains and frustrations we are feeling in their own practices. I’ll never know – I don’t keep in touch with them.

Odds and ends

Courtesy of my beautiful little sister:

"I feel like I just found out my favorite love song is about a sandwich." Jane, "27 Dresses"

I'm assuming she means that she feels amazing.

Second, someone working for the f'REAL milkshake company contacted me and asked me to review their products. I thought, "Sure, why not?" They sent me two free vouchers and a list of places near me that have f'REAL machines. I waited until July 5, when I was going to the beach with my girlfriend. We walked into the Circle K on Vine street in Willoughby and there, nestled among all the drink machines, was the f'REAL machine, sitting on top of a freezer.

It's a simple idea: you take a cup out of the freezer. You pull the foil top back from it. You put the cup in the machine and press a button based on how thick you want your shake. The machine uses a mechanical arm to move the cup up into the machine, then blenders (or something) mix up the stuff to the desired consistency. Then, the arm brings the cup down, and you get a straw and eat.

I got the Cookie Dough and my girlfriend got the fruit smoothie. Mine was infinitely better - it tasted creamy and moderately delicious. Hers, on the other hand, was overly sweet - the ingredients included more high fructose corn syrup than any of the fruit "purees" it boasted in its ingredients list.

Three things bothered me about it otherwise. First, it was $2.49 for a single f'REAL, which to my old mind is expensive. Second, it is like an "ATM" of milkshakes, but to me it unnecessarily takes the human element out of the serving. It's like it's made for people who don't want others to know what they're eating so as not to judge until you pay for it. I suspect there's some sort of psychological principle stating that when the human element is taken out of serving unhealthy food, people are more likely to consume it - especially when they know the food is not optimal for their health. It also might be that children are more likely to consume when they don't have to have interactions with "adults" while making their consumption choices. Conspiracy theories, perhaps, but I just don't know why one wouldn't go to a fast food place and get an equivalent milkshake or smoothie for less. Perhaps there is a massive demand among late-night truckers for milkshakes that I didn't know about, and they have been demanding them at 24-hour convenience stores? Or perhaps the business model is based on spur purchases?

Third, about that smoothie: it had a LOT of sweetener. I'm not sure if it had more than my milkshake, but it was so sweet that my cheeks hurt and I could only sip a little. Frank went back in to get little coffee creamers to mix in because it was so ridiculously sweet, and the coffee creamers were an improvement. IN A SMOOTHIE. Then, she pointed out that it's likely that people get the smoothie thinking that it's healthier than the others; looking at the nutrition information, it seems that it doesn't have more good stuff - it only has less bad stuff, like cholesterol and fat. I'm sure that Circle K has healthier options like juices, muffins, etc. She finished it, somehow, but said that she wished she'd gotten mine instead. Thus, if you do get a f'REAL, avoid the fruit ones.

They offered me a few more, so I'm going to take them up on it and try the Cappuccino ones. I'm optimistic. Oh, but one thing: there aren't any around my house. I have to drive at least ten miles into the outer suburbs to find one. I'm sure there's a marketing reason for it, perhaps related to the above points. Anyway, addendums will be added to this post.

Best,
Beau

Arabica Cafe & Coffee House

5115 Wilson Mills Road
Richmond Heights, Ohio 44143
(440) 449-4100

by Beau Cadiyo

I first visited Arabica when it was just starting out. Behind the counter were a husband and wife team, both friendly and talkative and open about working the kinks out of the business. What struck me first was that they were going full-steam-ahead with a new business in the middle of an economic downturn, and were clearly both excited and nervous about the whole thing. It came through in the sort of tremor in their voices, the very real happiness simmering under a slightly forced gaiety, their eagerness to serve and please the customer. I visited again a couple of months later to get coffee, and a teenager was working behind the counter, saying goodbye to her mom before she served me. Then, two days ago, I got a coupon on my door: buy a breakfast or regular sandwich, get one free. As I’m a bit skint at the moment, I eyed the $2.99 breakfast menu – eggs, cheese and few options of meats. I made plans.

When I walked in, it was almost the same store, but a teenage boy and a teenage girl were working behind the counter. Six people, including myself, were getting food – a mother/son duo sitting in the back, both with matching long dirty-blonde hair, and a mother/daughter pair and a middle-aged guy, all taking out. As I entered, the teenage boy, with long brown hair and a goatee, walked a skinny girl out of the door and kissed her briefly before returning to his mandatory duty as a summer food service worker. As he marched back to his station, his workmate told me that they were out of English muffins. “That’s a good sign – they’re at least selling them,” I thought.

I looked around. The space is cramped, but at the same time, one gets the sense that they’re doing with it what they can. The table arrangement had changed, as had the placement of the donuts, coffee and ice cream freezer. Then, suddenly, the boy served me my sandwiches, saying, “here you go, guy.”

My first sandwich was the biscuit, egg and cheese. The biscuit was small but they didn't skimp on filling. Instead, they stuffed the egg and cheese in, creating a sandwich tall instead of wide. The biscuit was dry, but tasted fresh, the egg was nicely cooked and firm, and the processed American cheese slice was standard, sticking to my teeth and the roof of my mouth. However, as soon as I bit into it I regretted not getting the sausage option as it could have used the meat flavor and a bit more grease for the biscuit.

Second, I got the egg and cheese on a blueberry bagel. The blueberry bagel was perfect - well cooked, tender and firm, if a bit smaller than a standard bagel, and the egg and cheese were the same as the first sandwich. However, I immediately regretted not ordering bacon on this one as that would have added the extra flavor that this sandwich needed.

It seems that they’ve made it at least six months now. I’m going to try to go back today to get the blueberry again and use another coupon for a free coffee. However, I’m not going back just for the food. I’m going back to support entrepreneurialism, grit, resolve and passion for becoming one's own boss, to support hiring teenagers to work in the summertime, to support strong coffee, to support experimentation and risk – even foolhardy risk – and to take advantage of every opportunity to build something great.

I think we can all identify with this.

Subway

7525 Granger Rd
Valley View OH 44125
216-328-9861
www.subway.com

by Reuben Dagwood

Working in an office located directly above a Subway restaurant first seemed to be an unbelievable convenience. So much so, that we based our decision on the office itself in part on this fact. How much time is stolen from a productive work day by the insidious workings of the “quick” lunch break that invariably leads to a twenty minute conversation about where to go, followed by the lovely just one more quick drink philosophy that our office so readily adheres to? Yes, being mere steps from a Subway is going to make for convenience and increased productivity, not to mention the amazing health benefit. We’ll all be perfect physical specimens, rolling in the proceeds from the reclaimed lunch hour, and we’ll be doing it at home an hour earlier than we ever have before!

Fast forward two years and let’s take another look. It’s hard to really remember clearly the love that I first had for Subway when I got here. I have blurry images of a “joyous” feeling of looking forward to the mixing, the matching. A haze of memory tells me about how I once had some sort of enjoyment resulting from the invasive, ever present aroma of bland bread. I have fleeting glimpses of the excitement I felt when I was told by Frank that they were planning to come out with a spinach asiago spread.

Remembering the hatred that has grown inside of me toward the Subway is not nearly as hard. Rubber chicken, Grade F lunch meat, the spinach asiago spread, and a gaping lack of hot sauce and swiss cheese are just side issues. Sure, the food is anything but gourmet, but it is fast food after all. But where is the convenience? Where is the saved time? Where is the health? They don’t exist.

The restaurant is a mere twenty steps away from my office door, but I cannot remember the last time that I was able to wait in line for less than 10 minutes for a sandwich. What this means to me is that I actually lose convenience, mainly because I’m an irrational, impatient man. At least 4 times a day, I’ll walk downstairs, solely with the intention of grabbing a sub, only to see that the line is forever, and instead just pop outside for a quick smoke, instead. Super health, here I come!

And speaking of health, it’s out the window in regard to the food itself. I know that this chain is a Jared reducing master diet, but it’s just not having that effect on me. The problem is that I’m a complete tightwad. I simply cannot pass a deal up for a costlier alternative. This may sound like rational thinking, but I assure you it is not. The best example here is that a 6 inch chicken breast sub is four dollars, whereas a 12 inch sub is only one dollar more. What this translates to is my never having bought a six inch sub in the entirety of my Subway experience. This, in and of itself, would not be such a bad thing, if not for another small neurosis of mine, which is to say that I absolutely cannot do doggy bags. Moreover, it’s easier for me to decide to pass up a camping trip with pals in order to stay home and spend the weekend listening to light jazz and catching up on Oprah’s book club than it is for me to stop eating at the six inch mark and just wrap the other darned half up and put it in the fridge.

So, I don’t know the exact moral of the story here. Is it “be careful what you wish for?” Is it “the grass is always greener on the other side?” Or is something more along the lines of, “Reuben, it’s time to wake up and get back to the heart of American office ritual: the two hour lunch?” Only time will tell. I’ll keep you posted.

Erie Island Coffee Co.

Gateway District/E 4th St
2057 E 4th St
Cleveland, OH 44115
(216) 394-0093
www.erieislandcoffee.com

By Beau Cadiyo

I tried to like Erie Island Coffee Co. – I really did. The interior has an aquatic feel, like a well-appointed luxury ship, with comfortable-looking chairs, excellent use of metal and brilliant color combinations. The coffee was stellar – strong, hot and potent, and not as bitter as Starbucks. The location couldn’t be better – it seems made for East Fourth, and I’m shocked that there wasn’t a hip, independent coffee shop there before now. The staff were nice, professional and struck me as creative and hip.

What initially impressed me the most, though, was the price of the sandwiches. At around $5, they were VERY reasonable for the street (which boasts Lola and La Strada just across the way). I would have paid a lot more for what I expected. Instead, I paid too much for what I got.

To be clear, it wasn’t bad. The egg was unexceptional, but with rare exceptions (all in Europe) I’ve not had exceptional eggs. The bacon was tasty, but there wasn’t much of it. My girlfriend, who won’t eat pork (hyperlink to Pulp Fiction) was able to take two large bites without getting even a whiff of it. The bread was quite delicious, but there wasn’t much, and even delicious bread can only get you so far.

Was it good? Sure, I guess. But there’s a trend here that bothers me. First, many truly good restaurants serve food in small portions, or at least don’t serve massive portions. I think it’s either a quality-control issue or a marketing scarcity issue. Regardless, the less people can get of something, the better they think it is – gold, for example, or Tickle Me Elmos from several Christmases past. Naturally, then, people learn to equate smaller amounts – or portions - with quality.

What I suspect, though, is that some restaurants are trying to make people think that their otherwise good food is excellent by serving it in small portions. It’s the same thing that DeBeers did with diamonds – they have vast vaults of diamonds ready to sell, but they only release some in order to keep prices artificially high. Erie, I feel, is doing just this – they’re serving an ok product in small quantities to make it seem better than it actually is. They needn’t have resorted to this sort of trickery. Considering the prices at nearby restaurants, they could have made the sandwiches bigger, increased the price and still competed with their neighbors, but on good quality at large quantity. After all, what coffee shop is going to compete with Michael Symon or Terry Tarrantino on gourmet quality?

I’d come optimistic and hopeful, ordered excitedly and left partially disappointed. The coffee WAS quite excellent, the interior WAS stunning, the staff WAS nice, and I want to help local, independent businesses when possible. But unless something changes – the size of the sandwiches, the quality or the price – then I won’t be eating there again. A Lola Burger is a much more attractive option. If you’re on East Fourth and want coffee, by all means, go to Lake Erie. If you’re looking for food, though, there are plenty of better options.

The Sixth Street Pizzeria

1313 W 6th St
Cleveland, OH 44113
(216) 574-9600
http://www.sixthstreetpizzeria.com/

by Beau Cadiyo

There were plenty of police cars on the road, and the bars were packed with people drinking. West Sixth had all of the elements of a fun, safe evening, but nobody was having a good time. For myself, trying to think of all of the good things that happening in the world did nothing. Counting blessings did nothing. Focusing on right thought did nothing. There was no joy in Cleveland.

In Ultra, there were lots of people but the men were drunk and surly and the girls didn't want to dance, so everybody just stood around. Similarly, in the Sixth Street Pizzeria, the booths were subdued. The sole waiter, a gentle giant, seemed uneager to serve, and I had to catch him while he was walking outside to smoke on the patio. You could see in their faces that everyone felt horrible. A few Indians fans wandered in, wearing jerseys, and looked around. Their faces had the half-smiles of drunk siblings who walk into a family reunion without knowing that the patriarch had died an hour earlier.

My chicken Philly arrived in a small Styrofoam container, wax paper sticking out of the edges. Inside, the sandwich was too hot to touch, let alone eat; I admired the toasted crust of the roll, the medium-sized chunks of browned, grilled chicken, and the few green peppers scattered in the melted cheese. A second later, though, I began to have misgivings; while it looked good, the "Philly Chicken" was clearly not enough for this roll. The filling-to-bread ratio was too low, meaning that if the bread was not simultaneously toasted and doughy, the filling would be overwhelmed with dryness, no matter how moist it was. While it looked like the elements were in place for a good sandwich, it was not guaranteed, and a detour could be disastrous.

Unfortunately, there were many detours. The bread was as dry as a crouton, breaking off in chunks and crumbs. When pressure was applied to the outside, it offered no resistance, crumbling on the inside. Faced with this environment, the cheese retreated, and any oil or flavor it had was absorbed by the bread. The peppers were few and far between. One fell out, and upon sampling it by itself, I found it limp, tasteless, impotent. The chicken, which should have been the star, was parched, the fibers sticking to my teeth. I finished each bite with a sip of water, which breathed some life into the food but nowhere near enough to salvage it. It was exactly like having an MVP on your team, and the best coach in the league, and the most winning season, and the record for most number of playoff games with 10 point leads in a row, and not making it to the finals. Again, the elements were there, but it didn’t come together.

Later, I drooped my girlfriend off at her apartment as soon as I got back on the road, huge fat rain drops started dropping on my windshield. Then, they stopped.