2230 Euclid Ave
Cleveland, OH 44115
by Beau Cadiyo
1. The increase in ATM fees in this city has reached absurd proportions. Both US Bank and National City near the West Side Market charge $3 for people to use their ATMs; the US Bank ATM INSIDE the West Side Market is only $2. I guess they need to make money somehow - their management certainly isn't doing a great job of it. A teller at the US Bank suggested I go to the dollar store down the street and get cash back; they let me buy an Arizona Iced Tea but then didn’t let me get cash. I was half-tempted to pour the tea on an ATM, but thought better of it.
2. I hate it when people say something is the “best X ever,” or “worst Y ever,” or any combination where the implication is that they’ve sampled all of the golf balls, or hair stylists, or Thai food in the world and have an objective opinion to offer which puts the issue of who/what IS the best to rest. I also hate it when non-English people say “cheers” instead of thanks, or end their emails with it, and when non-Italians say “Ciao” – Frank Cranney excluded.
3. The church was like any European church – towering, ornate, detailed, beautiful. A giant cast eagle in the front made us think of Frank Mott, whose ex-girlfriend commissioned a large, framed portrait of herself, naked, reclined on an American flag with an eagle on top and a cigarette dangling between her legs. She then thought it prudent to mail it to Frank’s mother’s house. We went back out through the lobby looking for the café promised on the sign outside, and only after a few hallways did we find it. Inside, we found normal café furniture, a nerd on a PowerBook, people studying and/or watching YouTube while surrounded by books and the obligatory alternative staff, one intricately and beautifully tattooed, the rest looking like they were trying to make it through another hellish day of food service.
4. The “Famous Chicken Salad” sandwich was texturally satisfying, but almost flavorless. The homemade honey whole wheat bread was soft and chewy, with an almost non-existent crust which melted into the bread itself – any kid would love it. The chicken salad itself was composed of unusually large, firm chunks of bland chicken in a white sauce I would hesitate to call mayonnaise, simply because it didn’t taste of anything. The lettuce was crunchy; I don’t remember a slice of the promised tomato, although I’m sure it was on there. The pickle was, sadly, the most flavorful part.
5. Three bites in, I realized it needed mustard; Frank agreed. It was distributed in small Solo cups. The yellow was completely average, but the honey mustard added more liquid than taste.
6. Perhaps the special coffee drinks and atmosphere are worth it. For food in the area, though, Johnnie’s is just around the corner and much, much tastier.