RUNIN Ragged

Author: chito

  • RUNIN — the Theme

    RUNIN — the Theme

    RUNIN is not exactly about the joys (or pain) of running.  It’s not about running out of food either. Did you realize that RUNIN is actually a back acronym? Huh? Let’s take a look at the qualities of the Ethiopian Diaspora. 

    They were all Resourceful in surviving tough living conditions and eventually found success in their business ventures. They Understood the local environment well and identified the target market audience before starting their businesses in Ethiopia. They had to Negotiate with business owners, investors and the local governments who at first had little faith in them. They had to be Innovative to find the right business that would fill a void. And they all made bold decisions but remained open-minded and nimble when they Navigated toward their goals.

    Resourcefulness:

    Resourcefulness is about using the full resource of tools and other people to solve problems and reach goals. When the devastating EF-5 tornado ripped through downtown Joplin, Americans from near and far rushed to lend a helping hand. Thankfully, there was no shortage of compassion and generosity. The AmeriCorps displayed resourcefulness by allowing me to build an online database that tracked donations and matched them with survivors and their specific needs.

    When our team didn’t place during Startup Weekend due to lacking a technical co-founder, I had to rely on resourcefulness to find a developer who was flexible enough to fulfill our requirements.

    When we reached out to restaurants, many were willing to have us photograph their dishes, but didn’t want the food to go to waste.  So we decided to photograph the food in conjunction with events and allow our guests to enjoy it.  The events also served to promote the restaurants and we were able to capture amazing photography of attendees enjoying the ambiance and cuisine.

    R also stands for Reflecting on what’s important in this journey and seeing how we can make improvements.  Deb Santos taught me how to truly reflect —  learning to invest in myself and showing self-compassion regardless of my mistakes. 

    R also stands for Researching.  The secret sauce for RUNINOut was the behind-the-scenes research that we did for each restaurant to ensure that the user would get the best results possible.

    Understanding:

    The Irish Republican Army who sought a united Ireland clashed with the British forces resulting in massive death and destruction. When I visited Belfast, I met a tour guide named Arthur Magee who talked about building bridges.  For peace to start and the troubles to end, both sides had to build bridges.

    “If you come nigh you will see a city where on a micro level, people are building bridges.  The most important bridge that is been built is in each and every single person here. That bridge is between who you actually are and how you see yourself. Whether you’re part of the problem, looking back and blaming other people, or whether you’re part of the solution and reaching out and seeing other human beings, as exactly that, human beings.”

    From a business standpoint, one must fully understand the environment, the target market, and the competition in order to build a successful business. The diaspora community had done their research — that’s why they were able to build a leading PR firm, a luxury day spa chain, and a rose farm despite facing steep odds and many doubters that were skeptical that such business ideas could flourish in Ethiopia.

    I applied these lessons when I worked with restaurants and bars. When I tried to sell our services to the Irish Channel, they were also receiving bids from other providers.  In order to stand out from the competition, I studied the pub’s clientele and target market to determine which sports teams they could affiliate with and which social events we could host.

    When the Lebanese Taverna requested to host a belly dancing event with Arabian folk music, I immediately did my research to familiarize myself with the art of belly dancing — I would then need to be resourceful to find the right talent and audience that would attract a strong turnout so we could host many more events and raise money for charity.

    Over the years, we ended up working with several different groups and hosted a wide variety of events: running, comedy, political, food blogging — spanning a diverse group of bars and restaurants.

    In the end, hosting tons of events took its toll, and I had to honestly look in the mirror and realize that the boozing had gone to extremes and I needed to start tapering off. 

    Negotiating:

    Many restaurants were receptive to our services but did not have the resources or the inclination to pay for them. So we found a clever way to negotiate by having them host our events and provide free food and other amenities. We often got paid, but we were willing to barter web and social media assistance for food, eatups, and fundraisers.

    Negotiating is something that I’ve always done my entire adult life.  Throughout my entire Navy career, I never seemed to get what I wanted so I had to negotiate for just about everything of value. Successful negotiating requires understanding the other side’s priorities, open communication, and settling differences.

    Innovating:

    My search for a technical co-founder led me to take a Greyhound to Vancouver to find a web developer who could create our site in Drupal.  And once the framework was built, I had to stay current in both Drupal and WordPress by regularly attending tech meetups.

    Innovating meant building a menu prototype for Burma Restaurant and Vapiano’s so customers can decide on their orders while waiting in line.

    When RUNINOut got rejected by the GW Business Plan Competition, I had to find ways to gain traction with users.  It was imperative that we were able to expand our reach throughout the entire city with innovative methods. That meant deploying a used pedicab to market our brand and acquiring loyal followers who would vote for us for Best of D.C. We won the “Best Restaurant App” award in 2012 and 2013, and my alma mater agreed to let us present in the Business Plan Competition after all.

    Navigating:

    Some people struggle to make a decision. Some may be very simple like what to wear, others are very complex like finding a new job. Many times, we’ll end up regretting the decision that we make, but the worst decision is making no decision. No decision can be a decision, also, but the main thing is you need to take some action. 

    Navigating means making a decision to go one way and to stay on course despite experiencing choppy seas. It also means making course changes if the path is not the right one for you, even if it means making a drastic change.

    I wouldn’t be where we are today if I never got into a scuffle with my GWU classmate causing me to transfer out of the Executive MBA program to the Professional MBA.  With more freedom and flexibility, I was able to enroll in a New Ventures class where the idea of RUNINOut came to life.

    After working tirelessly for over five years, It was clear that it was time to change course.  Hosting events was time-consuming and tiring, and there was usually excessive drinking resulting in anxiety and depression.

    It also became clear that we needed to branch out further from the DMV (D.C. – MD – VA).

    How we would achieve that and what would the next step would be, was still undecided.  But it was clear that it was time to take a radical, new direction.

    Wherever we would be going, it would sure be a magical ride that the universe has specifically earmarked for us.

    RUNIN Ragged…

    * * *

  • A Home in Joplin

    A Home in Joplin

    After weeks-on-end of business school and tweaking my business plan, I was ready to head west on my cross-country bus trip, looking for that elusive web developer who would be my last cog in the wheel.

    The journey which would take me through the heartland of America would seem interminable — four gritty days and sleepless nights. Could I tolerate the middle-of-the-night disruptions, filthy bathrooms, the constant chit-chat from disheveled vagabonds? 

    May 22, 2011, started like any other Sunday in Joplin, Missouri. People went to church and gathered with family and friends. The Joplin High School had just held its graduation, and families were returning home. But as dark clouds gathered above, a severe storm was brewing. At 5:41 PM, an EF-5 tornado touched down in the southern part of the city and tracked east, cutting a 13-mile swath through the heart of downtown.

    It struck the campus of the Missouri Southern State University, where the local high school was holding its graduation ceremony. One hundred fifty people were still in the arena and swiftly evacuated to the basement. But others were already returning home and in stark danger. Tragically, the storm claimed the lives of seven students (including one of the recent graduates). 1

    On May 25, I boarded a Greyhound from Baltimore heading west. I would stop in San Diego to run a marathon with Janine and her hubby before I headed north to Vancouver to find a web developer for my site. 

    But at the last minute, I decided there was a more significant calling than just running a road race. The city of Joplin had taken a heavy toll, and they desperately needed help.

    A full-figured woman in her early 20’s sat a few rows behind me in a rowdy bus where a couple of boisterous fellows were cracking us up like a lobster claw. The jokes were coming at a feverish pace, exactly what we needed to establish the right mood for the long journey. One rugged hooligan was getting too fresh for comfort, causing the girl to pitch a fit. 

    “Young lady, please get up and sit somewhere else then. The rest of you brats – if I hear another peep from you, I’m gonna pull over and drop ya’ll off on the side of the highway where you’re gonna have to thumb your way home,” the bus driver announced indignantly.

    The commotion subsided, but, I still didn’t get a lick of sleep for the next few hours. At the transfer in St Louis, I joined the other backpackers lounging on the floor. I would be stopping in Joplin for tornado relief – my body and my mind yearned for respite.

    Suddenly my siesta was interrupted by a soft rendition of Keyshia Cole’s “Love”. She had a voice that could move mountains and a face that could launch a thousand trucks.

    “Wow, you sound just like Whitney Houston.” 

    “Thank you. Maybe my delightful croon will make me rich and famous one day.”

    “I certainly hope so. What’s your name and where you’re going?” 

    “You can call me Dee for Damaris. I’m heading to Ok. City to visit my aunt, Mimi.”

    “Right on my dear. You should be going to L.A. You have a face of a movie star. I hope you’ll remember me when you record your first album.”

    “How ’bout you — how far west are you going?”

    “All the way to California, but first, I’m making a stop in Joplin.”

    “Yeah, I heard about the tragedy – many precious lives were lost, thousands of homes destroyed.”

    Then as I boarded the bus in St Louis, the bus driver started to give me a hard time.

    “Are you sure you want to get off in Joplin — the entire town has been wiped off the map.”

    “Absolutely, tens of thousands of survivors desperately need our help.”

    “Ok, but your bags are going to San Diego.”

    “Can’t do that, Ma’am. I have a foldable bike in the baggage compartment, and I’ll need that to navigate my way around the disaster area.”

    “You’re outa your mind. That’s against Greyhound policy. Since the town is completely devastated, I’m sure they could use your help — what little support you can provide.”

    Thankfully, the driver relented, and as we entered the town, I felt road-weary but headstrong for whatever lay ahead. I hugged Damaris goodbye, hoping she would suddenly decide to come along.

    “Stay safe,” As she wiped a tear from her eye. “I hope we’ll meet again soon.”

    “Well, eventually, I’ll be heading to California to find someone who can help me create a restaurant search directory. Maybe something that you can find useful one day.”

    Damaris rolled her eyes, doubtful that would be in the cards.

    When I stepped off the bus, my sour, sweaty smell of three days of rolled-on antiperspirant evaporated like steam in the scorching Missouri sky. There was no one to greet me, not even a soul on the street. It was a lonely bus stop in a mid-sized municipality, some parts showing virtually no signs that a deadly EF-5 Twister had rolled through a few days ago.

    Despite lugging an extra bag around from bus to bus I was now deeply grateful that I had decided to bring my Dahon foldable 12-speed roadster along.

    President Obama and his entourage and Governor Nixon had just visited and showed compassion. “This is a national tragedy,” Obama said. “We’re not gonna stop until Joplin is back on their feet.”

    Flags were flying at half-mast. Emergency response vehicles and T.V. trucks filled up a parking lot at the downtown mall. A National Guard hummer drove through the desolate downtown like it was in Iraq after the Battle of Ramadi.

    The campus of the Missouri Southern State University, where the AmeriCorps had set up their task force, was four miles from downtown, and taxis weren’t readily available during a crisis. I loaded all my luggage on the bike (Macbook Pro, Nikon 5100, sleeping bag, and thankfully only a few pieces of clothing) and pedaled my way to the Volunteer Relief Center.

    By the time I arrived on campus, the volunteers had already departed for the day, scraping the thick crust of grime covering their arms and legs. The staff was putting things away, and in the cafeteria, a large throng of AmeriCorps members was busy debriefing the day’s events. I was fortunate to catch the tail end when the staff decided to recognize each other for their hard work and dedication. I pulled out my camera and started filming, unbeknownst that I would witness something quite remarkable. This is where I met Quinn, Julie, Abby, and Will — incredible people who sacrificed tremendously to serve Americans in need. They called on each other and recognized their contributions. Then they presented a rose as a token of appreciation. I choked as I held back tears for people I didn’t even know. But after sharing with us something special from the inside, I felt that they would be dear friends for life.

    The accommodations at the college were better than anything I could ever expect. Yes, I didn’t have a rack to sleep on, and I haven’t had a decent meal since arriving here (except sliders and snacks). But the building was new, and the couch that I slept on was extra firm and surprisingly comfortable. I was blessed to have a roof over my head, considering the thousands of people who were left homeless. I made sure I got some rest because tomorrow would be a big day.

    Julie was one of the first team members that I met. Incidentally, she was from College Park, Maryland. I could tell that she had a lot on her plate, so I asked how I could be of help.

    The overflow of support from Americans everywhere had been enormous. Thousands of people called United Way and AmeriCorps, offering their homes, etc. AmeriCorps then posted this info on their Facebook page.

    “We’re getting dozens of calls a day from people offering to donate goods and services to survivors. People are offering their cars, computers, cell phones, tents, food, clothing,” said Julie. “We’re simply posting these offers on our Joplin Tornado Relief Services Facebook page, and it’s first come, first served.” 

    The issue with these postings was that there were not sortable or searchable nor user friendly. There was not one clearinghouse that gathered all the information. As a result, many of these donations were not managed effectively or were simply wasted. So I took the initiative to create an online database where the AmeriCorps could easily track all donations and match them specifically with survivors depending on their exact needs.

    So I spent the first two days on campus creating an online database with Drupal (which I literally learned on the go). After a lot of painstaking research and trial and error, the database was created — a small but momentous cause for celebration.

    * * *

    My next goal was to document the heroic contributions of the AmeriCorps’ disaster relief teams. Spending the last three days working alongside them, I had nothing but wonderful things to say about this dedicated group of young men and women. They were bright, innovative, and selfless, never counting the costs of uprooting their lives to serve our country in need with very little pay. With people like Abby, Julie, Will, and Melissa, I was left impressed and thankful for their sacrifices.

    But there was only one problem: I didn’t have any closed-toe shoots. Traveling on Greyhound, I had to travel light. Thank goodness, Abby came to the rescue and lent me her boots for the day.

    The next day I visited the site ravaged by the tornado and met some of the victims. The first time I got to see the damage, I was shellshocked. Trees that were left standing were stripped bare by the intense winds. The images brought back forlorn ssmemories from Haiti after the 2010 earthquake. It had already been an amazing whirlwind tour in what has already been a very long journey for disaster relief for one of the deadliest single tornadoes in America.

    I met Christina on the bus going out to the field. Originally from Georgia, her mother owned a house an hour from here. An outdoor person with a warm heart, she loved to snow ski, windsurf, sail and pitch a tent and enjoy nature at its finest. Christina would be spending the next month sleeping in tents and volunteering for both the AmeriCorps and the Ozark Food Harvest. After this stint, she would be heading north to Alaska to go glacier camping.

    I listened to Christina as she cleared debris and collected memorabilia. One of the hardest parts of the relief effort was recovering personal belongings.   Many of the pictures, some over a generation old, would be digitized and posted online in hopes that someone would claim them. Christina found some dental records, books, videos, and a porcelain figurine.

    Debris piled near the street would be picked up by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers.

    I also spoke to Chelsea, another volunteer who lived in the area.

    “Many people think we’re a small town. The population in Joplin is 50,000, but actually, 300,000 people work and shop here,” she said. “Lots of folks commute from neighboring town — just like me.”

    I was humbled and honored to meet Jerry and Debby, one of the homeowners who lost two houses: theirs and their daughters. Jerry was actually in his truck when the deadly twister hit. He was lifted up and spun around before being dropped in front of his house. His house was pulled straight out of the foundation and blown to bits. House after house for miles in all directions was literally reduced to slab. Cars and trucks were crushed like soda cans. Jerry was fortunate to have made it out alright. His house was reduced to shreds, but he was blessed to have his life and that of his lovely family.

    “It’s slowly sinking in,” said Debby, as she looked through some old photos. “It’s taken a week for me.”

    “Yes, we really need to come here and experience it. Watching it on T.V. is not enough,” said Chelsea.

    “And it’s important to look at your belongings as just items that come and go. They are not attached to you personally — it’s time to move on,” Christina added.

    I was deeply touched when I visited St. John’s Regional Medical Center. Every window in the hospital was blown out, and the top two floors were ripped away. The staff had only minutes to pull patients from their rooms and into hallways before the storm struck. The entire building had been moved four inches off its foundation and six people died. Because there were concerns that the structure might collapse, the building was evacuated.

    Brian spent the entire week working at the Salvation Army, sorting out food and clothing for the survivors. Some provided canteen services (feeding, hydration, and spiritual support) for the survivors and volunteers in the field.

    I was proud and happy to see Sailors from the USS Missouri (SSN-780) clearing rubble and assisting homeowners with retrieving their belongings. Like the humanitarian assistance deployments to Haiti after the deadly earthquake last year, the U.S. military is always there to assist whenever disaster strikes. 

    Soon, the relief effort would come to an end, and the city would shift into a reconstruction phase that would last for many years.

    With damage estimated to be $3.18 billion, the Joplin tornado is the costliest single tornado in U.S. history (adjusted for inflation). 553 businesses and 7,411 homes were damaged or destroyed, affecting more than 17,000 people. The storm reached a maximum width of nearly one mile during its path through Joplin, killing 161 people (with an additional eight indirect deaths).

    After spending five days in Joplin, I left inspired by the service and dedication of the AmeriCorps and the strength and fortitude of the survivors. The people of Joplin have truly come together to show how a community can survive a disaster, turning adversity into strength, rebuilding their town and their shattered lives, and creating opportunities for the future. 

  • Ben’s Upstairs

    Ben’s Upstairs

    August, 2016.

    I was driving back from Front Royal, VA, the gateway to the Shenandoah National Park, when I got an unexpected call from a long-time restaurateur friend.

    “Manuel, it’s great to hear from you. How’s the Iguina family?”

    “Wife and kids are fine. We’re launching a new restaurant theme on H Street.”

    “Really, Latin, Puerto Rican?”

    “Neither one, I just got hired as the Director of Operations by Ben’s Chili Bowl.”

    “Wow, chili and half-smokes – a local legacy. Congrats!”

    “Yes, it’s a true iconic symbol, but we’ll be focusing on a totally different cuisine – Southern with a twist of Caribbean.”

    “Sweet my friend, on U Street?”

    “No, above the new location on 1001 H Street – we’ll be changing its name from Ten 01 to Ben’s Upstairs in “a few weeks.”

    That makes a helluva lot of sense. The Ben’s name holds a massive amount of clout. What worked on U Street with Ben’s and Ben’s Next Door should work on H.”

    “Yes, we’re thrilled beyond belief, and I would love for you to join our team.”

    The following week, I met with Nizam Ali, owner and Vice Chair of the Ben’s Chili Bowl Foundation; Manuel and his Chef who hails from North Carolina, Quinton Mitchell. We formulated a plan to photograph their space and savory dishes, develop a website theme that captures their unique character and aggressively market the space to locals and tourists.

    “H Street Fest is the biggest block party in D.C.,” Nizam asserted. “We want to launch Upstairs in conjunction with the Festival and hope that people from all over come in and sample our cuisine and experience our renowned, timeless brand.”

    Similar to the iconic lunch counter on U Street with Ben’s Next Door, a historical American restaurant, Ben’s Upstairs featured a full service bar as well as a covered rooftop space offering stunning sunset views.

    H Street was once a thriving economic corridor. But after the ’68 riots, the area was devastated. Similarly, U Street was ravaged to ruins after the riots. Businesses were damaged and smoldered, but Ben’s Chili Bowl stayed opened even through the many nights of curfew. Ben’s fed first responders and black activists, and served as a peaceful gathering place and safe haven for all.

    Kay’s Jewelers and Morton’s Department Store burned down during April 1968 riots. Overall, more than 1,100 buildings in D.C. were damaged and the middle-class fled to the suburbs to seek safety and open space. People did not return for 20 years, and it wasn’t until the start of the 21st century that people began to invest in their community and redevelop the battered corridor.

    That’s why Ben’s Chili Bowl is such a revered landmark. President Obama and national celebrities frequently dropped by to grab a bite, and for many world leaders, it’s a rite of passage after visiting the White House.

    “Our slogan is Southern-influenced cuisine food with a hint of Caribbean flavors,” Nizam announced.

    “Fried oysters Po-Boy with citrus aioli, fried green tomato BLT with ancho chile lime mayo, jerked salmon and lobster roll with arugula and roasted peppers, whole fried snapper served with coconut mojo are our featured dishes,” Quinton revealed. “And Manuel also assists since he’s from the enchanting island of PR.”

    “Also love the stuffed yucca and green plantains as well as the mac ‘n’ cheese studded with crawfish,” Manuel shared.

    “My father Ben was born in Trinidad and my mother Virginia is from Southern Virginia. We want our new menu to reflect the Ben’s family roots,” Nizam remarked.

    “And the drinks are very much Latin/Caribbean featuring Bacardi mint Mojitos, Mezcal Margaritas, and Stoli Raspberry Sangrias,” Manuel informed. “Very comparable to my Little San Juan.”

    “Thanks for all this timely information. I need to ask for a favor. “I have a friend who just arrived from Jamaica. Can you get her a job?”

    “If she has a green card, she’ll fit right in,” Manuel replied. “And BTW, will you be inviting food bloggers like you did at Mio?”

    “Super idea — food bloggers and social media influencers.”

    [ Image: Orlando Darden.png ]

    Orlando Darden Jr.  @Ben’s Upstairs

    Who me also a food model? Well when my good friend Chito invites me to join him as he samples a new restaurant’s menu, what else can I say but YES! At the two weeks old new #benschillibowl on H St. As I sample the variety of dishes, all I can think is that this restaurant has transcended it’s legendary staple of #chillihotdogs and fries! Very satisfied with the experience.

    On Saturday, Sept 17, during the H Street Festival, Ben’s Chili Bowl welcomed eaters and spectators to the 4th Annual Half Smoke Eating Contest.

    Tens of thousands streamed along the 11-block corridor looking to taste wholesome food and experience diverse culture and fun.


    Half Smoke Eating Contest

    What is unique about the D.C. half smoke?  Is it because it’s half pork and half beef?  Or is it Ben’s original spice mix that is a well-kept family secret. Or maybe because it’s grilled on both sides on a hot griddle until perfectly charred. Whatever the reason, the sausage placed on a lightly steamed bun, dowsed with yellow mustard, sprinkled with chopped white onions and smothered with the famous, generation-old chili sauce has become D.C.’s signature dish.

    As usual, Virginia Ali, the Matriarch of the D.C. restaurant world, was busy running the restaurant, cooking half smokes and cleaning tables.

    Eight lucky participants got to enjoy the sweet, smoky half smokes, grilled to perfection, to see who could consume them the fastest.

    Mary Jones set a local record by devouring eight half-smokes in eight minutes — a feat that could put Joey Chestnut to shame.

    [ Image: Screen-Shot-2022-02-21-at-8.56.57-PM-1024×557.png ]

    Vida Ali congratulates Mary Jones for winning the Half Smoke Eating Contest.

    Ben’s stage also showcased some of D.C.’s hottest local artists such as Rare Essence, Ozone, Renee and Wooty 95

    After the contest and concert, fans filed into Ben’s to grab a chili dog with chili cheese fries or Upstairs to grab a Southern Caribbean sandwich paired with a Mojito. 

    A beautiful, full-figured woman with long, black hair and a thick, rich accent served me a Caribe cupcake with a Red Stripe.

    [ Image: Kiomey Ben’s Upstairs.png ]

    Kamara @ Ben’s Upstairs

    “Thank you kindly Kimara. What a great time for you to start working here.”

    “I’ll swing by shortly to see if you want another one.”

    “Thanks, but one beer is all I’m gonna have today.”

    “What are you on a diet?”

    “I’m trying to taper off, and attending these events and festivals ain’t making it any easier.”

    The festival was amazing and the launch was a smashing success. Now it was time to stroll down the avenue to watch other local talents and dancers perform. Cheers to H Street!  This community has become a veritable playground for foodies and art and music aficionados alike.

    I wanted to remain in this vibrant city and enjoy all the perks she had to offer — her culture, the restaurant scenes, the melting pot — but part of me told me it was time to move on..to head west towards the mountains and valleys, where I would find respite and healing.


    Ben’s Upstairs looking out at the western sky
  • Tara Temple

    Tara Temple

    June 24, 2014

    It used to be part of the Tara Thai chain. But with a new owner, new renovations and Buddhist sculptures flanking the entrance, the name morphed to Tara Temple. If D.C. was the banquet hall, Arlington was the backyard. It was a town where I had the least amount of clients and the fewest number of events. So when manager Shine Chuenyam invited me to host an event at the Temple, I was more than happy to oblige.

    When I approached, I was met by two mythical stone lions standing guard at an ironclad double door. As I walked in, I could see that the foyer was shaped like the entrance of a Thai temple with shiny red columns and a sweeping temple roof. 

    I was greeted by stone statues of Buddhist deities praying. And also familiar faces — Wayne Manigo my favorite local stand-up comic, and Orlando Darden, my favorite trainer were already seated at the bar. 

    The Temple was spacious with a large oval-shaped bar, plenty of comfy couches and semi-circular booths for those who yearn for a private conversation. The decor was sleek and modern and it definitely set the tone for the entire evening. 

    As I made my way around the bar, I noticed two lovely women with bronze skin tones and golden brown hair.

    Deb Santos & Roxana Johnson

    “Are you two sisters?”

    “Close, we’re best of friends.”

    “From around here?”

    A petite girl with a toothy smile donned in a yellow floral print dress pointed to her friend. “Roxy is — born and raised. I’m Deb from Chicago.”

    “Great sports city. So you must love Mike Ditka and Michael Jordan?”

    “Absolutely, and Roxy is a huge Redskins fan, so she loves RG3 and Joe Theismann. I’m a huge Blackhawks fan.”

    “And home of the deep dish pizza — what your favorite type of food when you’re really hungry and you care who you’re eating out with?”

    Deb nursed her martini with extra vermouth. “Hands down, Sheecago is the best. Love the wood-fired pizzas from Matchbox to go with the milkshakes from Ted’s Bulletin.”

    Roxy took a gulp of her Singha.”The birria tacos from El Rey and the soy garlic wings and kimchi from Bonchon.”

    “Sounds perfect. And I just love the 1920’s art deco setup at Ted’s and the shipping container design at El Rey.”

    It was at that time that Wayne came by to steal the show.

    “And for laughs, you should check out the Bier Baron Tavern and Comedy Loft.”

    “Girls, this is Wayne our resident comic. He’s also my top promoter who will attest to the fact that on RUNINOut you can search for your favorite type of food, events, ambience, or even team sports, and the site will provide personalized recommendations in the local area.”

    Roxy’s eyes lit up. “Really, can you search who is serving the wheat beer, Hell or High Watermelon?”

    “The Cantina Marina at the Wharf,” I replied in an instant.

    “Can you search for places that are pet friendly?” Deb requested.

    I quickly tapped into my phone. “Wonderland Ballroom — do you own a rescue?”

    “Don’t have one yet, but I really want a Dalmation — heard they are beautiful and brainy.”

    “Sweet. I have a pit bull named Georgia and a sun conure called Apollo — my parrot who likes to drink Guinness at the Irish Channel.”

    Next, I strolled over to greet Christine who was sipping on a Singha Mojito while waiting for her lobster sushi roll.

    Shortly after, Khoi Tran showed up. An Air Force officer stationed in the Pentagon, he is also a food connoisseur and loves to blog about his experiences. 

    “I love a Thai restaurant that serves good sushi,” he said. “Sushi that’s creative with a fine presentation.”

    Shine Chuenyam brought out the next delicacy — the Sunomono Salad consisting of octopus, cuttlefish, cucumber, and seaweed over a bed of shredded white radish with sweet rice vinegar and sprinkled with sesame seeds. 

    For two hours, Shine kept putting out phenomenal appetizers like we were Thai royalty, and we were ordering $2.50 draft Kirin and Singhas like they were Poland Springs. 

    Orlando quickly showed off his chopstick precision skills by extracting a red cuttlefish out of the medley.

    “Mmm, juicy and rich – it’s a cross between a squid and an octopus.”

    “Nah, I’m good,” said Wayne. “I prefer to get my ink from Staples.”

    Christine giggled then decided to bust out a one-liner herself. “So what did Sushi A say to Sushi B?” 

    “C’mon Wasabi,” Wayne replied cracking up together with Christine.

    “That’s right, I forgot to tell you that’s not avocado that you’re eating,” Shine smiled as he poured another round of tequila.  

    All the guys partook, sprinkling salt all over the counter and sucking lemon wedges as if they were adult pacifiers. 

    “Wow that Don Julio really packs a punch,” said Orlando. “Now I’m ready to go in the ring.”

    Wayne grabbed a tuna nigiri with precision and held it next to his mouth. “As for me, my lane is in the kitchen. Being a chef is hard work. But a sushi chef, all you gotta do is resist the temptation to not cook the food – how hard is that?” 

    Shine served an enticing plate of dragon roll. “Alright smart aleck, no more caviar for you.” 

    Wayne devoured the entire roll. “All joking aside, this sushi is out of this world. And the rice, you nailed it. It’s even better than my favorite spot on H Street, Sticky Rice.”

    Since Khoi arrived a bit late, Christine was happy to feed him. Khoi was reluctant at first since as a military officer, he was used to fending for himself, but Christine wouldn’t take no for an answer.

    “I’m a cook and feeding my friends is an act of love.”

    “C’mon now, this isn’t omakase. Khoi can get his own damn unagi,” The Mezcal was making Wayne funnier by the minute. 

    I waited till Khoi finished chewing his nigiri. “So what do you do on your free time? Are you visiting a lot of different restaurants?” 

    “I wish I had time to do more. A lot of life doesn’t happen because I’m attending graduate school in International Relations — a lot of writing, poring over textbook chapters, and reflecting on feedback from professors and peers.”

    Christine pulled the lobster tail out of the shell. “Yes, education is important, but so is making new friends.”

    I turned to her and said, “You need to come to our events more often. No one will ever complain that they didn’t get enough to eat.”

    “And you two bozos,” as I looked over at Wayne and Orlando. “You guys can take it easy on the booze and sushi. Sometimes, they just don’t go together.”

    Orlando took another bite of his sashimi. “Talk about hypocrisy — I haven’t seen you stop drinking except when you were chatting up with the chics. When are we going running again?”

    “Yes, I really need to seriously cut back in my drinking. Both my physical and mental health has taken a back seat.”

  • Bookalokal

    Bookalokal

    It was time to celebrate the Lunar New Year, and 2014 was the Year of the Rat.  I picked up my 15-year-old son Colin from Herndon, VA, and drove him straight to Chinatown. Parking was a premium, but we were lucky to find a spot in front of the St Patrick’s Catholic Church, the giant bell announcing the hour of noon.  A stone’s throw away, the red lantern fireworks dazzled on H Street along with confetti canons and poppers.

    On this special holiday, we could stroll directly under the Friendship Archway and admire the golden color of the tile roof and the golden dragons prancing. Completed on November 20th, 1986, the monument is meant to celebrate the friendship between D.C. and Beijing, as well as reinforce the neighborhood’s Chinese character

    There were no street vendors hawking steamed buns or peddling knock-off Gucci bags.  On the corner of H and 6th, a front window is lined with light bulbs like a Hollywood vanity mirror. Passerby gawk while an esteemed noodle master stuffed dumplings and hand pulled noodles from scratch just like they did centuries ago.

    Colin @ Chinatown

    Having skipped breakfast, my stomach rumbled with hunger pangs, so Colin suggested we visit Ming’s next to Tony Cheng’s, the mainstay of Chinatown.  Tony Cheng has ties to local officials and has served as an ambassador between the government and the city’s Asian American community.  He once was invited to prepare a Chinese banquet for President Jimmy Carter in the White House and is a longtime booster of the neighborhood. 

    Ming’s which opened a couple of years back has co-existed under the shadows of Tony Cheng. While Cheng offers a wide selection of AYCE Mongolian BBQ, Ming’s has focused on smaller, exotic dishes focusing on Szechaun sauces and sauté.

    As we entered the ornate restaurant with traditional wood carvings, we were lucky to secure a seat by the window as thousands of people were crammed tightly along the sidewalk. 

    We watched in awe as the parade of floats came to life along with high school bands, dancing dragons, and of course, the omnipresent politicians waving election signs and Taiwanese flags.

    “Yeah, this is a political event thinly veiled as a festive parade,” said a patron who was seated at a table across from us. “There’s not much of Chinese culture in Chinatown anymore. Our beloved village has turned into a lifeless tourist trap.”

    “Chinese businesses are closing up shop, and we’re left with a bunch of chain restaurants and Irish pubs that have meaningless signs written in Chinese,” his wife added. “There’s no authenticity — it’s like Chinatown in Disneyland.”

    “Good point,” I added. “Every Chinese restaurant here is something to appreciate and treasure before they slowly die off.

    “We love Chinese food, but It’s challenging to order here sometimes, the husband said. “There’s no pictures in the menu and no website to guide us.”

    “No worries,” their server Emily reassured. “If you have any questions, I’ll be happy to answer them.”  But on this hectic holiday, Emily was busier than a cocktail waitress at Mardi Gras and had no time to explain each fancy dish in excruciating detail. 

    The proprietor, Michelle Tam then swung by our table. “We have a lot of regular customers who order the same thing every time, which makes it easy for us.  And then we have the late night crowd who can get rowdy and are happy to order drinks when most bars have closed their doors.”

    “I guess when they’re liquored up, they aren’t too picky,” I said.

    Colin and I ordered the chicken Lo Mein, scallop fried rice, and the congee with minced pork and century-old egg.  Well, the hatching is not exactly as old as the hills.  It’s actually a duck egg that has been submerged in a mixture of water, salt, coal, and calcium oxide for 100 days.  The yolk turns dark green to gray and tastes rich like mature cheese. The combination provides it with a strong, flavorful, silky taste.

    After our meal, I asked Michelle if we could chat for a few minutes.  

    “Yes, after the parade and festivities are over. Right now I’m swamped.”

    I knew Colin was eager to get home and cheer for the Seahawks over the Broncos in the Super Bowl, so I drove him home and handed him his traditional red Ang-Pau envelope with a crisp $100 bill inside. 

    “Kung Hei Fat Choy. Hope the Year of the Dragon will bring you success in your studies.”

    When I returned to Chinatown, I glanced over at the ubiquitous shops that attracted tourists but still catered to the ethnic Chinese enclave.  I couldn’t help but think about the old men sitting in Full Kee Restaurant, drinking hot tea and playing mahjong as if this was just another day in Chinatown.

    I arrived at Ming’s just in time to see Nian, the Dragon, and drummers dancing and sparring, wishing the proprietor, peace, a good harvest, and bountiful prosperity.

    I was glad that the crowds had finally departed, and Michelle was able to take time to chat.

    “Michelle, I just adore your cooking, but I heard that customers are confused by the names.”

    “Really, gimme an example.”

    “Well, what in the world is sea cucumber intestine with XO sauce, pork intestine w/ sour cabbage or braised pork balls in gravy?”

    “Yeah Chinese dish names can be quite mysterious sometimes. But you know, I’ve got over 50 entree dishes and a ton of appetizers.”

    “What do you say, I photograph all your major dishes and post them on our site, so people can choose their favorite ingredients, spices and taste preferences and save them on their food profile?”

    “You’re welcome to take pictures, but it’s too expensive for us to prepare the dishes just so you can photograph them.  You would have to eat it — all of it.”

    The following week, I contacted my event wrangler friend, Jackie Woodbury. 

    “Bookalokal will be launching in D.C. this spring, and I’ll be the D.C. Coordinator. Let’s wait until then and host an event together,” she said.

    So in May 2014, we planned a dinner party for the following week and invited a dozen of our friends. Each person would pay $25, and Michelle would serve all her favorite dishes for us to photograph before we served them to the party. Michelle also allowed us to purchase two cases of Tsing Tao beer at wholesale as long as we promised to not leave any remaining.

    The guest list included Evelyn White, the CEO and founder of Bookalokal, Kanita Williams, my attorney roommate, John Tinpe restauranteur and activist who spurred the whole idea at Burma, Jason Morenz, the roving photographer, Orlando, my running buddy, and trainer, Jeff Tong who coached me at Startup Weekend Baltimore, Sarah Berghoff, an ER physician, Joey Garcia, a critical care physician, Khoi Tran an Air Force officer and food connoisseur, Rim Rivera, a defense contractor, and Kim “dancing queen”, an artist and marketing consultant.

    “Chito, love how you turned this marketing event into a personal night out with friends, just like we did with Burma,” John said.

    “Well, thanks for sparking the idea. How are things with Asian and Pacific Islander Affairs?”

    “Everything is going well. Marion Barry (former Mayor and current Councilmember) hasn’t embarrassed himself lately, knock on wood.”

    “Perfect, so what do you think of the cuisine here?” I asked

    “Wonderful. Burmese food has deep roots in Chinese cooking, ” John replied.

    “Delicious Szechuan cooking. Great presentation. Too bad more Chinese restaurants don’t get Michelin stars,” Khoi added.

    By day, Khoi Tran works for the government, but by night and on weekends, he is either eating food, thinking about it, or planning his next culinary trip, even if he has to cross state lines (or international borders). From roadside stalls to fine dining, Khoi is open to trying new things as long as there are people to meet and share a meal with.

    “The Foodie Docs approve – compliments to the chef,” Joey added as Sarah nodded in affirmation.

    “Filipinos have always had a preference for Chinese cuisine,” Rim Rivera said. “It’s been part of our culture for hundreds of years.”

    “Dunno about you, but mine is full and there’s no more room inside,” Kanita added. “Plus I have to file a motion first thing in the morning.”

    “Yes, you guys have been a delight and have been overfilling with fabulous ideas. It was no coincidence that you all were personally invited. Here’s another wonderful idea — after we polish off this delicious feast, let’s roll across the street for some pints. The roasted malts at the Irish pub will help digest all this chow fun.”

  • Vapiano

    Vapiano

    I applied for the GWU Business Plan competition in 2011 and 12 with high hopes that perseverance would pay off. After all, I had a couple of notches such as Startup Weekend in my belt, and unlike the vast majority of applicants, I actually had a real business that was gaining traction.

    April 1 2012

    Dear Chito,

     I was personally very impressed with your business plan.  Therefore, I was pleased that even though it was not included in the top 8, it was selected to serve as the “backup” in case one of the 8 teams selected chosen to advance to the finals cannot present on April 13. 

     My advice is to begin planning your oral presentation now and I will let you know as soon as we know for sure whether you will or won’t be presenting on the 13th. 

    I will be in touch as soon as I know more about whether the top 8 teams will all be able to present on April 13.  Congratulations on being one of the “top 9” teams out of the 144 that entered this year’s competition!

    John Rollins

    Director, GW Business Plan Competition

    Professor of Entrepreneurship

    I took Professor Rollins advice and accepted the invitation to attend the April 2012 GW Startup & Internship Fair.  The halls of the Marvin Center were filled with students some with blank stares mindlessly flipping pages, others on their laptops with Netflix streaming in the background. Despite their best attempts, they yearned for the lazy days of summer, but could not ignore the fact that midterms were just around the corner. Meanwhile, upstairs in the Grand Ballroom, there was lots of buzz for the next big thing.  I arrived at the career fair with huge aspirations but tempered expectations.  A flock of fellow co-founders from the D.C. meetup group as well as George Washington University classmates were also participating, and those adventurous self-starters were eager to explain their big ideas.  There were many thoughtful conversations and face-to-face interactions with the rising talent pool from all over the metro area.

    GW Startup & Internship Fair

    One particular enterprising young man meandered through the crowd and over to my table. He was a cheerful happy-go-lucky sophomore who looked every bit a techie, but also a guy with a playful smile. “Hello, I’m Zach,” he introduced himself gleefully.

    “Nice to meet you. Are you from here?”

    “Originally from California, but went to high school in the South. I’m passionate, over-caffeinated and goofy, some say.”

    Zach Peirce

    Zach geeked over the pictures of food and wanted to hear more about our dish repository.

    “I love discovering new places and tasting different types of food, and I’m a technical product guy, so this could be the right fit.”

    “Are you sure the startup world is the right move for you as opposed to interning for Uncle Sam down the road?”

    “I’m more enamored by the startup life than working for the government.”

    “How ‘bout environmental activism – there are tons of opportunities in town.”

    “I’m a business student, so I’m all about process improvement.  I have lots of innovative ideas that I would like to see put to work and don’t have the patience for the government to implement them. Again, I’m here so I can effect immediate change.”

    I described to Zach the whole concept of the Vapiano ordering system. “You get a store charge card as you enter, and then you walk up to different stations to order pasta, pizza, antipasto, salad and drinks, scanning your card at each station.  Often you have to have to queue up for 15-20 minutes before you even get to order from the line cooks, so it’s important to have your selection ready. If you’re not a regular customer, it can be difficult to know what type of dish to order and what toppings and ingredients you want.

    “So we should feature each dish online and break it down by specific type and category and then list all their ingredients.  Then customers can preselect their preferences and taste and the site will show them the name and picture of the dish which they can show to the cooks.”

    “How will customers access the site?”

    “We can provide the QR code to customers when they queue up, and they can use their phones to make their seamless selections.”

    The following week, Zach and I spent an afternoon at Vapiano like food nerds, snapping pictures of dishes as they were prepared.  Lunchtime was crush time from a rush of mindless govies, so major kudos to the white coats who let us photograph the dishes while juggling orders from impatient customers. The work was exhausting but stimulating, and the best part, the starving sophomore and I were able to sample several dishes that are renowned across Italy.

    “What’s next? I’ve eaten my share of fettuccine to last the whole school year.”

    “I’m afraid there’s plenty more pasta on the horizon. Now we gotta do all the grunt work.”

    We headed to the Gelman Library on campus to post the dishes and categories on our site. There we met up with my friend and fellow entrepreneur JD Pagano. A software developer by trade, JD recently returned from a two-year stint in the Peace Corp.

    “This country is very grateful to its veterans. But we need to appreciate the service of the Peace Corps, also. How did you enjoy your tour?” I asked.

    “Very meaningful and impactful service. The experience was life-changing.”

    “That’s awesome. Anywhere exotic?”

    “The beautiful country of Kyrgyzstan in Central Asia.”

    “Was there lots to see and do?”

    “Absolutely. Great place to hike and ski. Loved the traditional Kyrgyz dancing and amazing folklife.”

    After the three of us got done adding the content to RUNINOut, we planned the next step.

    “Let’s organize a food tasting event at Vapiano’s for later this month,” I suggested. “We want people to test out our platform.”

    “Great idea,” Zach said. “Just advertise on campus that they’ll be free pizza, and you’ll get a ton of students there.”

    “College students are not the right audience for our survey. We’re looking for young professionals in their 20s and 30s with more refined taste,” I replied.

    JD started creating an event on Facebook. “I can ask my friend Misha to help promote it. Between the two of us, we know a ton of people in that demographic.”

    Together we sent out a boatload of invitations to our friends from that category, and we were delighted to see a few dozen foodies and govies show up with curious minds and ravenous appetites.

    In the beginning, the three of us stayed busy doling out dishes of Carbonara and Margherita. But once everyone was served, we were able to mingle and obtain feedback.

    I approached a cute girl with long black hair. “So you must be Misha, JD’s friend who you met in Kazakhstan.”

    Misha chuckled. “You got the right girl, but the wrong stan. It’s Kyrgyzstan not Kazakhstan.”

    “Oh so sorry, Kazakhstan was the country portrayed in the movie ‘Borat’ — a lot different than Kyrgyzstan where you served.”

    “No worries, almost everyone gets the names mixed up. The Peace Corp recently left Kazakhstan and hopefully, there’ll be no more mockumentaries.”

    JD Pagano & Misha Davies

    Kanita Williams left her job early from the D.C. Superior Court and made the 10 minutes walk over.

    “The pizza is awesome, but not great for someone on a minimal-carb diet.”

    “You should meet Orlando. He’s a personal trainer and runs a company called Bodyfit D.C.”

    Orlando walked over to introduce himself. “Nice to meet you. Where do you currently work out?”

    “LA Fitness but with work requirements, I find it challenging meeting my fitness goals.”

    “Skip the gym and get an awesome workout outdoors. Come join me for a boot camp workout three times a week. We do high intensity interval training.”

    “But my schedule at the court is so unpredictable. Can you be flexible?”

    Kanita and Orlando

    “Absolutely. Daily exercise is a gift that enables us to experience the gift of life more abundantly. I would be happy to get you started.”


    Vapiano’s Meetup

    A woman in her early 30’s with dirty blonde hair and a beaming smile took a bite of her pasta. “Mmm, the Pasta Basilico is cooked perfectly, al dente.”

    “Tender but firm is how I like it, too. So what do you think of this crazy concept?”

    “Not a fan of having to wait in line and returning to my table, only to find out that my friends have already started digging into their Greek salads. But I like how your site helps customers choose their orders while they wait.”

    “Super to hear. Zach and I spent last week, photographing each dish and then painstakingly adding them to the site.”

    “Wow, just the two of you? There’s a ton of different dishes here.”

    “Yes, my co-founder, Senodja, is deployed to Camp Arifjan, Kuwait, and Kanita is busy clerking in the D.C. Superior Court. So we have room for one more.”

    “I think this would be fun. My name is Suzannah by the way.  I’m a foodie just like you, and also an entrepreneur, specializing in marketing and business development.”

    “Super Suzannah, maybe we can help each other. We could use help reaching out to restaurants, and you can gain priceless experience working with a budding startup.”

    PHOTO GALLERY

  • The Owl Bar

    The Owl Bar

    When a devastating EF-5 tornado struck Joplin, Mo. on May 22, 2011, I had the honor to volunteer with the AmeriCorps. I picked up a lot of debris and pulled a lot of broken branches, and I was amazed at the outpouring of support from Americans all over the country. People were offering services and supplies, and this information was posted on the Joplin Disaster Relief Facebook page. But the information was disorderly and scattered and the donations were not managed effectively. So, I took the initiative to create an online database where volunteers could more easily track all donations and match them specifically with survivors depending on their specific needs.

    Although I had no experience creating a content management system (CMS), I quickly learned on the go and became a huge proponent of Drupal, WordPress, and other open-source platforms. Necessity is indeed the mother of invention. Too bad it took a natural disaster for me to learn it.

    Drupal shines as a technological marvel with speed and scalability. That’s why I chose Drupal to be the CMS for RUNINOut and traveled all the way to Vancouver to find a developer with a personable demeanor, who I could work with. 

    And when I returned to the DMV, I dove head first into the D.C. Drupal community and became a frequent attendee of their monthly meetups at the Stetson’s Bar on U Street. 


    Drupal meetup @ Stetson’s (Courtesy of Phase 2)

    What a peculiar place to have a tech discussion. It’s a cowboy bar without much paraphernalia or pretension. There’s pool, darts, and a lasso when you walk in, but no mechanical bull. And the crowd is far from country. It’s mostly filled with yuppies and techies and a splattering of politicos. Rumor is that the Bush twins (Jenna and Barbara) would frequent with their security detail and imbibe on alcohol before they were of age. Also during the Clinton years, Monica Lewinsky would patronize while she was interning at the White House.

    The monthly discourses were a great way to sharpen my skills, collaborate, and network. There were always people hiring Drupal developers and if I had a question or issue, Drupalers were always willing to help. It was amazing how in-depth some of the topics were covered and how engrossed we were for a noisy dive bar known for cheap drinks.

    Drupal4Gov hosts the annual GovCon held at the National Institutes of Health in Bethesda, MD each July. This was always a good opportunity to get the latest state of Drupal, learn new features, tricks of the trade, and of course network. There was always something new and exciting on the horizon, but undeniably the most useful sessions were Birds of a Feather — informal gatherings to discuss a certain topic with no pre-planned agenda. And the topics were not limited to Drupal — coding, design, accessibility, DevOps, etc were all broached.

    And after a long day of discussions, developers and technologists were eager to get together and socialize at the annual happy hour down the road at Bricksides on Cordelle Ave.

    Drupalers strived to arrive during the open bar from 5-7 where any beer on tap was included: from Blue Moon with a juicy orange slice to a malty Guinness in a 20-ounce tulip pint. Thankfully our donor Mobomo had deep pockets and was extremely gracious. There was also plenty of finger foods such as phyllo-wrapped shrimp and chicken drumsticks.

    The decor is modern and clean with an expansive exposed brick wall. There is a long wooden bar with plenty of seating and just a fun atmosphere. Brian Vasile, who also owns Grand Central in Adams Morgan designed the bar to hearken back to the Prohibition era. Distillery pipes make up the shelves behind the bar. and Baltimore’s street corner’s famous “Vote against Prohibition” written in faint white on the dining room wall.

    “Hey did you hear that Stetson’s is closing?” I asked my friend Nick Grace.


    me, Kelly and Brian Vasile

    “Oh no, she will be sorely missed..”

    After serving as a fixture on U Street for 35 years, Stetson’s would finally be serving it’s last call on Halloween night. Real estate prices downtown were going through the roof and the property was sold to Douglas Development for a couple of million.

    “But Bricksides is relatively new and the appetizers are quite a mouth watering,” I replied.

    “Yeah, but nobody goes to Stetson’s for the food. It was bland and dry there, but the atmosphere was legendary. The place is full of memories. A lot of great discussions was had there, and a lot of code was debugged over Bud Lite and Blue Moon.”

    “That’s right beer and programming go hand-in-hand.”

    * * *

    Every October, Baltimore would host a camp and in that same year, it was held at the Baltimore University near the Penn Station. The events were organized by Daniel Schiavone of Snake Hill (not the tavern but the web agency).

    Just like in D.C., after a full day of sessions, we would mosey over to a nearby pub which happened to be the world-famous Owl Bar in the grandiose Belvedere Hotel.

    The Owl Bar was built in 1903 and became an instant hit with locals. But when prohibition started, the owners improvised. They installed plastic owls on top of the cash registers. If the owls eyes were blinking, the taps were free to flow. This meant that the shipment had been received, and the police were nowhere to be found. If the eyes were fixed, then the taps were secured and you shouldn’t mention alcohol. 

    The Owl Bar is floor to ceiling brick with mule deer head trophies and stained glass panels with wise lyrics

    A wise old owl lived in an oak.

    The more he saw the less he spoke.

    The less he spoke the more he heard.

    Why can’t we all be like that wise old bird?. 

    I ordered a Sidecar (brandy, lemon juice, and Cointreau with a sugar rim) and duck tacos. The food was quite bland and the cocktail was nothing to wrong home about, but I came for the nostalgia, not for the nourishment.

    The pub is teeming with history. Some folks spoke lots, and some just heard. It’s a great place for friends to get together and strangers to become friends. And once again, there were a lot of side topics discussed, and coding debugged over a pint of Natty Boh.

    “So how did you learn Drupal,” Daniel asked.

    “I have no programming experience. Everything I know, I learned from Google and YouTube,” I responded.

    “Yes, the value of degrees and experience erodes when you can watch a YouTube video and ‘voila’, you’re now an expert.”

    “I’m still very much a newbie. That’s why we need experts like you Daniel to make our sites smart, sleek, and professional.”

    “I’ll drink to that.”

    * * *

  • Carlos’ Coppi’s

    Carlos’ Coppi’s

    Down the road from Ben‘s Chili Bowl on 12th and U, tall cranes dot the skyline along the 14th St corridor. The young, vibrant masses are moving in, and shopping and dining out have become more fashionable.

    After months of construction, the massive Louis at 14th was finally taking shape. As 270 apartments were getting built, D.C. small businesses were once again the victims of rapid gentrification.

    Such as Carlos Amaya’s Coppi’s Organic which was renowned for its rich, authentic cuisine inspired by the seaside Ligurian Riviera in Northern Italy. The landmark eatery was forced to shut down for over a year due to the heavy construction. After completion, the street scene would surely look better and brighter, but Carlos couldn’t wait. It was time to move Coppi’s, the brick oven with the tricolors of the Italian flag, and all the Fausto Coppi’s biking decor back to the block where it all started 20 plus years ago.

    “We’re in Cleveland Park now,” Carlos announced. “We’re not too far from the rest of civilization.”

    “I’ll definitely ride my pedicab there the next time I visit the zoo or the Lebanese Taverna for belly dancing.”

    The lions roared and the crickets chirped when I passed by the National Zoological Park on the way to Cleveland Park. I parked by Medium Rare, the local-favorite steakhouse known for its steak frites prix fixe menu, then ambled over to Coppi’s. When I entered, I noticed that the front windows could be opened to let in sunlight and there were several rows of church pew benches for booth seating. And just like the previous, iconic location on U, hundreds of vintage pictures hung on the wall, unapologetically old-school with a nice touch of evocation.

    “Fausto Coppi was a great all-round racing cyclist,” Carlos said. “You don’t have to be a biker to appreciate his achievements.”

    “He was a true legend. He won the Giro d’Italia and the Tour de France in the same year. He is truly missed,” I added.

    The next month, on December 4, 2014, the D.C. Food Bloggers flocked to Coppi’s to enjoy authentic wood-fired pizza, and fine wine and to catch up with old friends and make new ones. 

    The wine list was very impressive and if anyone had any questions, their trusty manager Tom Bindley could make a recommendation. 

    Anita Hattiangadi from Greg’s List and several food bloggers such as Jennifer Matta, Jason Shriner and Wendy Brannen were in attendance.  You can always rely on these reputable influencers to visit their favorite restaurants and then feature the cuisine and ambience in their lifestyle blogs and social media campaigns.

    Restaurateurs loved to welcome them because their patronage implied their stamp of approval, even if they did more drinking than blogging. 

    The Peroni was light and bubbly, and the wine list was something to write home about. If anyone had any questions, their manager Tom Bindley could steer you in the right direction.

    Coppi’s Organic has two ways of cooking their food: The pastas are boiled, but everything else is cooked in the wood-burning brick oven.

    To create the masterpiece, the pizza chef spinned the dough then tossed it in the air to ensure it stayed consistent and flat. A wide array of ingredients — fresh and organic —  were sprinkled on the pre-baked dough then returned to the Forno Bravo to give it the authentic wood-fired oven taste.  

    There were more than a dozen inventive pizzas to choose from and choosing my favorite was a tough decision. 

    The Prosciutto e Funghi (prosciutto and mushroom), Pancetta (Italian bacon, mushroom, onion, mozzarella), were two that I still daydream about.

    “The smoked salmon charcuterie board is quite impressive. Artfully arranged and delicious,” said Jennifer.

    Wendy is quite adept in the kitchen. She makes a killer pepperoni pie with sweet Vidalia Onions from Georgia and Jason Shriner’s homegrown oregano.

    “The food is always fantastic. Love the shrimp and mozzarella in the Genovese,” Wendy said. “Simply delectable. I would travel from Georgia and back just for this pasta.”

    [ Image: Screen-Shot-2022-02-24-at-9.31.38-PM-880×1024.png ]

    Serving to eager guests

    “Thanks, we work with organic farmers and food cooperatives throughout the region to bring the freshest ingredients to your table,” Carlos said.

    “Great, I’d be happy to source you some of my oregano,” Jason Shriner added.

    “I’m still celebrating National Pizza Month. I’m so addicted to crack pizza, I need to go to Rehab,” Wayne Manigo added. 

    “Yeah, and take Orlando with you,” I added. “He’s eaten his fair share.”

    “Well this isn’t New Haven style pizza from Pete’s,” Orlando replied. “The pies are baked authentic Italian with a perfect crust and nonna’s fresh tomato sauce. I need to take a box or two home.”

    “Good idea. You ought to start delivering pizza for Postmates,” Jason turned to me and suggested. “You can easily make one grand a week.”

    “The secret is to deliver fast while still hot, and my pedicab is as slow as a sloth,” I responded.

    “Yes, we only want our customers to enjoy their pizzas while it’s still piping hot,” Carlos stated. “That’s why we prefer to serve them here.”

    “Then I’ll just pick them up and let them hop in the back. It can be a romantic night out and they can even pop a bottle of wine and smooch while passers-by stare.”

    [ Image: Coppi’s GANG.png ]

    Me, Wayne, Wendy, Orlando and many others

    This was followed by a burst of laughter.  Everyone knew each other and were having an amazing time.

    The dessert was well presented and absolutely irresistible, and would even make nonna proud.

    “Please come back on Sept 9th,” Carlos said. “Every year on my sister’s birthday, we celebrate her life. And on Halloween nights, we host a salsa vigil. Nori was an amazing person with a great heart and a wonderful soul.”

    * * *

    On Halloween night 2009, Nori Amaya worked the early shift at Coppi’s on U Street before slipping out for the evening for salsa dancing. 

    She visited the Rumba Cafe in Adams Morgan where she had been dating the owner, before heading to the Russia House and then to Bravo Bravo where she met up with her Salsa dance partner.  She took a cab home to her apartment and by Monday afternoon, Carlos knew something was wrong. When he got security to open the door to her apartment, he found Nori’s body, wrapped up in a comforter, dressed in her underwear.  When investigators arrived to examine the body, they found something chilling — all of her fingernails had been removed, in an attempt to remove traces of any DNA.

    “Absolutely, we will find Nori’s killer and bring him to justice.”

    “I will never rest until we do. We owned and managed the restaurant together. She will always be a huge part of Coppi’s and precious lives. She had many loving friends who want to know what happened that night.”

  • Alba Osteria

    Alba Osteria

    I was going for a run around Chinatown and Mount Vernon Square when I sensed the unmistakable gamey smell of roast pig. I followed the scent and arrived at an outdoor patio with a bocce parklet on I Street. A small crowd was enjoying happy hour while a suckling pig turned a crisp brown on a spit roast.

    I’ve never played bocce, but I knew it started in Italy, and it’s really taking off in the US. What struck me was seeing a famous chef joining in on the fun. How could I not recognize him – the renowned chef from Al Dente with his signature spectacles, white coat, long apron, and familiar smile.

    “Chef Donna?”

    Chef Roberto Donna & Angie Duran

    “Si, unico e solo”

    “From Galileo and Al Dente?”

    “Among many others, yes.”

    “Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard wonderful things about you. So you’ve moved to up-and-coming Mount Vernon Square.”

    “I’m excited about this locale. Hotels and condos are going up and people are taking a chance. We want to be their neighborhood restaurant.”

    “Who did you bring along?” 

    “Well, Amy Brandwein, my Chef de cuisine, who worked with me from Galileo, and Angie Duran my manager from Al Dente.”

    Please join us, grab a piece of pork and crackle and check out our enormous space,” said Angie, as she opened the door and welcomed me in.

    “The name Alba refers to a town in Roberto’s native Piedmont. With 226 seats, we are Chef Donna’s largest restaurant thus far. To make the atmosphere feel more intimate, we have sectioned spaces throughout, like a pizza bar, a dining room enclosed in a wine cage, a 12-personal communal table for chef dinners, and of course a 62-seat bar area with local beers and four wines on tap plus more than 200 Italian bottles.”

    “Totally rad, this bar space would be perfect to host an event.”

    “Well, I’m also the event manager so just let me know when and the size of the group.”

    “We normally draw a large crowd and the majority of us are foodies, so providing complementary apps and side dishes is part of our MO.”

    “I can definitely ask my boss Hakan (Ilhan) if we can provide some panini and pizza. Our oak-fired pizza oven turns out pies super fast. But we’ll want to make sure that our bartenders will stay busy.”

    “Of course, we’re a very social group, some even brokering deals. So every one of us will have a drink in the hand, and for people like me, they’ll have two.”

    “Perfect our happy hour is from 4-7 pm when draft beers are $4 and select wines by the glass are $5.”

    “Quite impressive. Is all this information plus your food and drink menu updated on your website?”

    “We try our best. But we have a lot on our plates at the moment.”

    “Well if we shoot pictures of the event as well as your dishes, we’ll share them with you so you can post on your site and social media.”

    On Sept 30, 2014, the turnout for our event was phenomenal with nearly 100 people in attendance.

    Chris Cooks is an IT consultant, social media enthusiast, networker, and self-professed comic genius. I met him at a PR Flacks happy hour, a meetup for PR professionals and communicators, and he has attended a few of our events over the years.

    Chris and I bellied up to the bar sipping on our Belgian-style pale ales. “Hey Chris, are you all caught up on watching ‘Game of Thrones’?”

    “Finally, can’t wait till next week and see which characters survive the series.”

    “Well, I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing any shows in a long time, so please don’t spoil it for me.”

    “I envy you, cuz you still have a lot ahead to look forward to.”

    Angie Duran was busy running back and forth to the kitchen picking up appetizers and keeping guests happy.

    “So Alba Osteria prides itself on authentic Northern Italian cuisine from the Piedmont region, the home of Chef Donna. The region abounds in land for grazing animals and for wine production.” 

    But braised meats, veal, and beef dishes from Piemonte cattle were not the only staples served.  

    For the first time in her life, Judy Castiglia ate escargot “Mmm, I love the taste and texture. And it goes well with the parmesan risotto.“

    Next Judy tried to grab a baked octopus in creamy polenta from Angie, but they went fast.

    “I’m embarrassed as an Italian to say I have never tried polenta. Argh!”

    Angie Duran serving Baked Octopus in Creamy Polenta

    Wayne Manigo scarfed down a capunet (cabbage-wrapped braised duck). “Yeah, there’s only two HBO shows I like better than GOT – that’s ‘VEEP’ cuz it satirizes the political world, and ’The Wire,’ cuz it got it all right about Baltimore.”

    “Baltimore is a city that I haven’t spent much time visiting. But maybe she’s the next terrain.”

    Christine Bach grabbed a slice of veal carpaccio with citrus oil. “It’s a beautiful place — The Inner Harbor is one of my favorite. There’s a lot of wonderful Italian eateries there.”

    Judy, Chris and Wayne

    Prior to becoming a chef, Amy Brandwein was doing political research for a lobbying firm in DC. Growing up in Arlington, VA, her dad was a good home cook and vegetable gardener who was always inspiring her. So when she came to the fork in the road of her career, Amy decided that rather than go further into politics, she would pursue the field that she had a passion for. She attended L’Academie de Cuisine and then applied for an externship at Roberto Donna’s Galileo. In 2000, she started in the pastry department, eventually becoming a saucier, then moved up to be a sous-chef. Then in 2005, she was named Donna’s first chef de cuisine.1

    “Amy has a passion for Italian food who goes to the bottom to really find the heart of it,” said Roberto. “She’s very driven and likes to make her point in the kitchen.”

    Wayne picked up a piece of house-made salami from the imported Charcuterie board “So Chef Amy, how is it like working for a James Beard Award-winning chef?” 

    “Roberto is an amazing chef who is intense and highly demanding. He taught me to be true to myself and to my cooking. I definitely learned a lot from him.”

    Judy raised a glass of Barolo wine. “So Amy, you’re really shaking things up. Wish there were more innovative female chefs like you.”

    “Some people call me Roberto’s sidekick. I don’t think so. I’m his chef, not his chic. I run his kitchen, and that’s a huge responsibility.”

    “We’ll drink to that!” Chris raised his pint of pale ale.

    Jason “Foodgeek” was enjoying a chestnut trifle pasta dish. “The food is fresh. Who sources your produce?”

    “We buy from local farmers’ market or cooperatives, specifically what’s in season — we have a passion for responsible and locally sourced ingredients.”

    Chef Amy Brandwein meeting guests

    “This is wonderful Amy. Thanks to you and Angie for making this an incredible experience,” Jason said.

    “Yes, I definitely feel like we’re in a family-run restaurant in Alba, nestled away in the hills of Piedmont, enjoying traditional cuisine,” Judy said as she dug into the braised beef and beef jus, sprinkled with bone marrow.

    “Well come back and join us on Thursday nights for Chef’s Table. It’s a six-course tasting menu where I want to go beyond cooking and create an experience with flavor profiles and wines to enhance the cuisine. The menu will draw from all parts of Italy and incorporate a lot of fresh, sustainable ingredients in both the cooking and cocktails.

  • Meskerem

    Meskerem

    When Meskerem opened on March 15, 1985, there wasn’t much of Ethiopia in D.C. Its owners were amongst the first wave of immigrants who fled their homeland after a Marxist military junta overthrew Emperor Haile Selassie in 1974.1 That coup triggered the civil war between Ethiopia and Eritrea that lasted until 2000 with the final peace agreement not being signed until 2018. 

    Both Ethiopian and Eritrean refugees settled down near the Adams Morgan neighborhood in D.C., a culturally diverse neighborhood known for its eclectic dining scene. The name AdMo is derived from two formerly segregated elementary schools and when the sun goes down, the laid-back 18th St transformed into a mile-long party zone. 

    The popularity and vibrant nightlife led to higher rent prices so a lot of the Ethiopian entrepreneurs moved out purchasing dilapidated properties on U and 9th Sts NW that were devastated by the 1968 riots following Martin Luther King Jr’s assassination.

    Eventually, the number of Ethiopian eateries got so dense on 9th St that several community leaders petitioned the D.C. government to rename the block “Little Ethiopia.” That petition was overruled since its location in Shaw was near Howard Theater and doing so would replace the “Black Broadway” moniker. 

    There’s always a lot of excitement in AdMo. On weekend nights, hoards of party-goers can be seen getting drunk and boisterous, raising a ruckus into the early morning.

    On Sunday, Sept 29, 2008, a man walked into Meskerem, greeted the owner, Mohaba Mohammed, with a hug, and then started chatting.  Everything seemed normal between the longtime friends. Suddenly and without provocation, the man took out his Beretta and then shot Mohaba in the neck. 2

    “Everybody don’t worry!” He yelled, then fired two shots into the ceiling before shooting himself in the head.

    Mohaba recovered from his injuries, and through the years, he and his sister, Nafisa Said kept the restaurant running, through the good times and hard, even as others around them closed.  They did that for 3o years, eventually becoming the oldest Ethiopian restaurant in the US — instrumental in shaping the personality of Adams Morgan into the vast melting pot that it is today.

    Supplies used to be tough to come by. Mohammed could not find any teff, an Ethiopian grain used to make injera.  So he used wheat flour and let the dough ferment for days in plastic buckets.  Today, Ethiopian Airlines flies daily to D.C. carrying injera, teff, spices, and much more. 

    So when Jackie invited me to join her for a Sept 2014 Ethiopian dinner at Meskerem, I was delighted to attend. There was a fairly large group of diners who were mostly Ethiopian cuisine neophytes. We didn’t sit on elegant wooden chairs or eat from pristine table tops. We were seated instead on traditional cushioned low chairs next to knee-high round tables made out of basket weave.

    Jackie Woodbury, Sept 25, 2014

    Join me tomorrow night for our Ethiopian dinner at Meskerem in Adams Morgan!

    Did you know Ethiopian New Year was Sept 11? Celebrate Meskerem, the name for the first month of the Ethiopian calendar. It ends the 3 month rainy season in Ethiopia (Jun-Aug) and celebrates more pleasant weather! We asked owners Mohaba and Nafisa to bring back their coffee ceremony for Bookalokal Inc.. Can’t wait! D.C. #DCeats #dcdining 

    Most of our group ordered the Meskerem Messob — mixed special which included beef, chicken, lamb, veggies, and unlimited injera all for $13.50 per person. A few ordered the veggie-only version. The dishes were anything but boring. The healthy portions included ruby beets, lentils, salad, carrots, green beans, and chickpeas and were flavored with garlic, paprika, and rosemary. The platter was fairly big and it was meant to be shared with others at your table.

    Sharing with others meant teamwork, better conversation, and synergy. We enjoyed our spicy palette of delicious curry-like stews accompanied by honey wine or St George, the national beer of Ethiopia. 

    The soft, stretchy, spongy flatbread doubled as an eating utensil and the hands still get plenty messy.

    “Is this the messiest you’ve ever gotten eating with your hands?” I asked my friend Yoomie Huynh.

    “Close, but not quite. The messiest I’ve ever gotten was at the Ben’s Chili Bowl half smoke eating contest during the H Street Festival. I didn’t win, but I ate everything in sight.” 

    Jackie enjoyed working with Mohaba and Nafisa in organizing the event. 

    “It brought lots of people from all different nationalities together to share a meal, a chat, and a smile,” she said. “Ethiopian cuisine is very communal.”

    I am forever awed by the resourcefulness and resiliency of the Ethiopian people.  Just like Tadiwos Belete from Boston Spa, the owners of Meskerem were innovative and resourceful in building their business and keeping it running despite limitations and setbacks.

    Less than a year later, Meskerem — after being opened every day since March 15, 1985, suddenly closed. The owners held down the fort and watched as one after another, Ethiopian eateries closed or relocated to U St or the burbs in Maryland and Northern Virginia. And after 30 years, they decided to sell the property to developers and retire from the limelight.

    And with that according to Tim Carman, food reporter at the Washington Post, “the neighborhood’s connection to that first wave of war-weary immigrants appears to be severed forever.”

    * * *

    1 Carman, Tim. “R.I.P., Meskerem: The Ethiopian restaurant that shaped Adams Morgan”, May 4, 2016

    2 “Manager of Meskerem Restaurant in D.C. shot, wounded”, Ethiopian Review, September 30, 2008