RUNIN Ragged

Category: Event

  • Apollo’s Flight

    Apollo’s Flight

    DC is a town full of festivals, and there’s no better time to celebrate festivals than in the summer. I had the perfect companion to attend my annual Folklife Festival, Capital Pride and Fiesta Asia. Apollo loved everyone and sang in front of Embassies and he was the character. I should have put Apollo as the star.

    On May 20, 2013, I took Apollo on a run again at the National Mall.  Apollo took flight as he often does, but this time, he went higher and further than ever before. Oh my goodness, I conveyed an expression of blunder. I had gotten so careless that I had forgotten to trim his wings, and suddenly high above the Mulberry trees along the scenic mall, Apollo found freedom.

    I looked everywhere for Apollo, even bringing along his cage, his Bonka Bird toy, rattling in the wind.  I scattered sunflower seeds and peanuts everywhere and had to fight off the squirrels who had a field day. Sadly, he was nowhere to be found.  Like a menacing tween, he had skipped school, and he was not yet ready to reunite with his distressed patriarch. The massive magnolias along the miles-long cinder path served as an ideal refuge for him and the Capitol dome and the Monument obelisk served as his landmarks.

    “Apollo, Come home to Papa!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. As sunset beckoned, I came to the sad conclusion that my wails were been drowned by the hustle and bustle of the young people and tourists mingling on the grassy fields. 

    Soon the sun was shadowed by the majestic, iron dome of the Capitol, and I would have to return the next day to make my unwavering attempt.  At daybreak, when the sun’s rays bathed the Lincoln Memorial in golden sunlight, I was roving up and down the grassy turf searching for my wanderlust feathered friend.  I played a scratchy recording of his chirping. It sounded promising, but after a while the raspy screams only commingled with the purrs from the cormorants and the buzz from the sparrows.

    GW University just so happened to be hosting their commencement ceremony at noon, so soon there would be several hundred black robes and caps with excited families scurrying all over the mall.

    If I couldn’t physically search, I would leverage social media. My Facebook posting gained some traction and a friend of mine mentioned that a student graduating from GWU saw Apollo hanging out on top of a standing fan, just screaming away. So she called the Washington Humane Society who readily captured him.

    Picture taken by GWU student of Apollo at the graduation.

    I immediately called them and was overjoyed when I found out that they had poor Apollo in safe keeping. 

    Apollo was home now, and he would join me on more runs and escapades throughout D.C..  But this time, I would make sure his flight feathers are well manicured and his favorite Bonga Bird toy is within arm’s reach.

    * * *

  • Best of DC

    We applied for the GWU Business Plan competition three times, hoping that indeed the third and last time was the charm.  Unfortunately, all the leprechauns in the world could not help us. Each time, we advanced to the semifinals, but the finals turned out to be our tough mudder. 

    The second time, was the most promising, where we came in 9th, so we served as a back-up just in case one of the top eight teams couldn’t present.  Unfortunately, we weren’t asked to pinch-hit and we went back to the drawing board for the following year. 

    Then, on April 2, 2013, I got the dreaded news that once again we didn’t make the cut.

    * * *

    April 2, 2013

    Chito,

    I was shocked that RUNINOut did not advance to the finals, since you were ranked #9 last year!  I didn’t read your 20-page business plan this time, but the feedback from the judges this year will give you more insights into why this happened, and you will receive it much sooner than before.  That’s all because I put an emphasis on upgrading this year to an online scoring/commenting system which means no re-keying of the judges’ comments.

    Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help RUNINOut continue to grow and thrive.

    John Rollins 

    * * *

    Professor Rollins explained to me that the independent group of judges (mostly non-faculty business leaders) may not have had the insight to select the top teams. The business school was pulling for me, but since they had to keep the competition objective, they had no say in the matter.

    Not only did the rejection sting, but the elimination kept us from securing funding. That’s because the university published the results online so venture capitalists (VC) were privy to this info.

    My alma mater wasn’t the only one that rejected us.  We were also spurned by D.C.’s VC firm and accelerator Fortify as well as Baltimore’s Emerging Technology Center.  An accelerator takes an early-stage startup that has already developed a minimum viable product and helps them secure resources and capital funding. They also provide a nominal amount of funding in return for a small equity stake, normally 5-10%.

    So was acceptance to an accelerator the right path for RUNINOut? Without mentorship and funding, our chances of reaching rapid growth were slim to none. It didn’t mean that our business model wasn’t sound or that we would never be profitable. But it likely meant our company would focus on lifestyle instead of growth, on income rather than revenue, on bootstrapping instead of venture capital, and instead of advertising, we would rely on face-to-face guerrilla marketing.

    This new path was right up our alley.  Since we hosted several events a month, we had developed a knack for gaining traction and creating a buzz.  We provided value, engagement, and fun, and in return, our attendees spread the word virally and gave us raving reviews online.

    A week after receiving the bad news from GWU, Suzannah woke me up with some glad tidings.   We were selected as the “Best Restaurant App” in the Washington City Paper Readers’ Choice poll.

    After dozens and dozens of events, miles, and miles of pedicab rides, and tons of food blogs, the hard work seemed to have paid off. 

    I called Gregg Coppen, the web developer from Vancouver, and he almost fell off his chair.  “I’m so glad we decided to add the faceted search at the last minute — this feature must have been popular with restaurant-goers.”

    He was so proud to add the new “Best App” tag to his portfolio and exuberant that he could make a tremendous impact thousands of miles away.

    “When you approached us two years ago, we were hesitant to take on this project on a shoestring budget. But looking back, I’m damn glad we trusted our intuition.”

    “Yes, it’s amazing what we can accomplish if we all work together, communicate and innovate.”

    Soon, I shared the news with Professor Rollins. 

    “What, you beat Yelp, Foodspotting and Urban Table?”

    “It’s hard to believe — it was really the matter of getting name recognition and we did that by gaining traction.”

    “I tell you what. You guys didn’t advance, but your company has shown user-acceptance and income – that’s really what matters, not a trophy.”

    “But we still will not get a chance to present at the coveted New Venture Competition.”

    “Not if I have any say in it.”

    On April 22, 2013, I got the chance to do just that. I was delighted to have the opportunity to present my business and demo my site to the University where the idea was born. And that was really the most important thing — acceptance and validation from an academic institution. The consumers, we already had them in the bag.

  • Iron Chef

    Iron Chef

    One sunny weekend during the fall of 2013. The restaurant scene in G-Town was abuzz with tourist activity. I passed Georgetown Piano Bar and then Jinx Tattoo parlor, soothing sounds of reggae music emanated from the brown brick establishment. Bandolero was next and this is where I hoped I would cut my first big deal.

    I was taken aback by the “Day of the Dead” atmosphere complete with metal cemetery gates and faux animal skulls hanging eerily on the walls. The interior was dark, the music deafening, the entire ambience spooky and western-chic.

    I sat at the bar and ordered suckling pig tacos and grilled corn on the cob. The bartender poured me “El Bandolero”, their house Margarita on tap. He garnished it with lime and it was delectably rimmed with citrus salt. 

    After my meal, I waited anxiously, wondering whether I should order another cocktail. 

    Luckily, when I turned around, I came face to face with the Top Chef, himself, Mike Isabella. He wore his usual gray short sleeve chef coat, his right arm adorning a brass-knuckled pizza cuter tattoo, and on his left a brand new Mexican Cowboy. He was clean-shaven and wore a big smile. But his voice was gruff and he seemed dismissive.

    “Thank you for showing me your website, but we’re not interested in your service. We have our own publicist and graphic designer. Our business is doing just fine.”

    “How ’bout hosting an event here, say 20-30 people, select appetizers, social media coverage, you name it?”

    “You’re welcome to speak to our manager to arrange an event. But we’re quite busy as it is, and we won’t be comping any meals.”

    Shortly, after Isabella went back to the open kitchen, I returned to my pedicab and quietly rode to my next stop. As I steered down L St towards the GWU campus, I passed Bar McFadden’s to my left and 51st State Bar to my right, both great establishments to catch a game after work. But for now, I had seen my share of D.C. eateries. Tomorrow, I would venture into the Commonwealth to engage with other Top Chefs.

    Crystal City, VA. has for many years been the home of military contractors and govies. During lunch and happy hour, they perennially congregate on restaurant row or at José Andrés’ Jaleo enjoying traditional as well as cutting-edge flavors.

    Adjacent to Jaleo on Crystal Drive was Chef Morou’s Kora, a trattoria-style Italian restaurant that opened a couple of years ago. 

    As I approached the street-side glass doors, fondant blue jays chirped from olive trees that billowed over the sidewalk.

    When I entered, I was greeted with dangling tree branches. Glowing tree canopies created a sense of intimacy. On the wall behind the kiln-fired pizza oven, decal tree branch silhouettes conferred a feeling of calm and relaxation. 

    I sat at the bar and ordered a Dark & Stormy. Then devoured a slice of the chicken pesto pizza.

    Minutes later, Chef Morou entered with his crisp, white chef coat.

    I sat at the bar and ordered a Dark & Stormy. Then devoured a slice of the chicken pesto pizza.

    Minutes later, Chef Morou entered with his crisp, white chef coat.

    I immediately recognized him. Slim and handsome with a pencil-thin mustache and goatee. The winner of an Iron Chef America competition in D.C., Chef Morou challenged Bobby Flay in Season 3.

    “Love the ambience. It’s so sophisticated and chic.”

    “Thank you, I got your email and looked over your site.”

    Chef Morou who grew up on the Ivory Coast cooks like he talks “American with an accent.”

    “So would love to build a new website for you to go with your contemporary design.”

    “Well, I know a thing or two about tech, I studied computer science in college. But lately I’ve been quite busy scouting a location for another restaurant in D.C. and launching my African spice lines.”

    “I understand that you’re very busy. That’s why you should hire us to promote your restaurant and feature your dishes.”

    “Yes, I have a big event tonight in Farrah Olivia that I have to plan.”

    “Super, Bien, et toi.”

    Although Morou was still contemplating, his response was more favorable and warm. I returned to my batmobile and rode through restaurant row

    The following week, I got a text message from Morou.

    “Thanks for visiting. My wife, Heather, says your service is nice but not needed.”

    “I know that marketing and social media is considered the low-hanging fruit, but it’s extremely valuable to increase sales.”

    “We have a lot of overhead. Our restaurant is gigantic and our ceilings are 24 feet high – you can fit a church in here. Our utility bill alone is sky high.”

    “I totally understand Chef, but what if we hosted an event. We would invite 20-30 people, you comp the meals and we in return will feature your cuisine all over social media.”

    The next day, I contacted Michael Galang, founder of Thursday Connect to see if he would help promote the event. Each person would pay $20 and we would split the proceeds. 

    Morou was born and raised on the Ivory Coast in West Africa and learned how to cook by watching his mother prepare feasts for their large family of 33 children. When he immigrated to America in 1988, he was hired as a dishwasher at Ristorante I Ricchi and was eventually promoted when a co-worker quit an hour before opening. Eventually, Morou was hired as the executive chef for Signature. Lobbyist Abramoff, who owned the restaurant, frequently provided free meals to sway lawmakers. Tom DeLay, Bob Ney and John Doolittle were his favorite guests

    But after the scandal hit the news, politicos no longer wanted to be seen at the restaurant, and the restaurant was doomed to join D.C. Eater’s list of Closures.

    On the morning of the event, there were only 10 RSVPs and a few more that indicated interest. But we had room at our table for 20, and we needed butts in every seat.

    It was then, that I gave my good friend Jackie a call. 

    “Hey Hon, we need a big favor. How quickly can you contact your friends to come to an Italian dinner at 7?”

    “I’ll go through our listserv with BookaLokal (marketplace for group dining experiences) and see what I can arrange.”

    “You helped me tremendously with the Chinese feast at Ming’s, if you could pull a monkey out of the hat, I would be indebted to you for life.”

    Two hours prior to the event, Michael and I waited anxiously hoping for a decent turnout. We paced up and down the restaurant along the purple walls, passing the colorful Andy Warhol-like portrait of his three-year-old daughter, Farrah.

    We nibbled on calamari and sipped on Heavy Sea Lager. Little by little people started to trickle in. By dinner time, over 25 guests had shown up. We had met and exceeded all expectations.

    We were able to photograph all the dishes and were able to garner all the content necessary to feature them on RUNINOut.

    Unfortunately, Suzannah couldn’t make it. She birthed the idea of visiting celebrity Chefs but she was now working on her own startup idea. I didn’t expect to keep someone that talented for very long.

    And Jackie, who came through in the clutch, did not have to pay a dime. All her food and beverages were comped by me. She had become my go-to miracle worker, and someone I would rely on whenever I got in a jam.  There would be many more jams and like a 9th inning relief pitcher, we hoped to escape them all.

    “What a smashing event. What’s next on your plate?” Michael asked.

    “Haven’t given it much thought. It’s football season, so perhaps a Florida Gators watch party?”

    “Yeah, sports is nice, but you can’t always rely on me to help out,” Jackie commented.

    “I could use ten of you, frankly.”

    “Then you should interact with the D.C. food bloggers. Chef Morou and other restauranteurs like him needs lots of coverage and publicity.”

    After dinner, there wasn’t much nightlife activity on Crystal Drive, so Jackie and I and a few others crossed Route 1 to 23rd St where there is a small, bustling enclave with a bundle of hookah shops and international eateries

    Right in the center stands Freddie’s Beach Bar, Northern Virginia’s longest-running gay bar.  The beach-themed, purple-lavish bar is adorned with rainbow flags and pink flamingos.  Freddie Lutz, who grew up down the hill, has owned the business for over 12 years. He is an affable man, a respected community leader, and has been working in the industry for over 35 years.

    He opened Café Italia 20 years ago and then decided to open up a Gay bar up the road.

    Before the repeal of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” many gay service members were in the closet. All it took was someone to even think you were gay to report you.  That’s why Freddie’s served as a safe refuge because it was advertised as a “straight-friendly” bar.  This gave everyone protection – they won’t have to worry about being seen because straight people went there too.

    When we walked in, we knew right away we were going to have fun.  The bar was filled with patrons knocking back pints of Devil’s Backbone. A Ballard from Doris Day was belting in the background.

    We found Freddie himself going table to table, mingling with customers like he was a council member.

    “Freddie’s is the most diverse bar that I know of. It bridges the gap between the straight and gay communities – that’s one of the most magical things about us,” he said.

    After chatting with Freddie and ordering our cocktails, I came upon two of my friends who had actually been my tenants for eight years.

    Dywayne and Ty were enjoying the music, ambience, and cuisine.  

    “We just came from dinner at Kora across the street. You guys need to come to one of our events,” I suggested. “How’s Wade Road?”

    “Everything in the apartment is fine. Will pencil that in on our calendar. By the way, you can come by Home Depot sometime and pick up your rent,” Ty said. “Unless you just want me to mail it to you.”

    “Home Depot is fine. I gotta buy some supplies anyway. Can I find you at the Customer Service Desk?”

    “Absolutely. You know which days I’m off. I can’t hide from you.”

    “Freddie’s is such a great place to get together. We need one of these in every city,” Dywayne said.

    “Couldn’t agree with you more. It’s such a great atmosphere.”

    Despite Freddie’s popularity, gay bars today are dwindling since many bars have accepted the LGBTQ culture and have adopted drag shows to their regular performances.  Freddie’s has been a huge building block for the community and fortunately will be here to stay.

    “Next time, you have a craving for pasta, visit Café Italia down the road. They’ve been a fixture here since 1976.”

    “Will do. And thanks for bridging the gap in our community.”

    “Thanks for coming over,” Freddie said. “See you at Freddie’s Follies on Saturdays.”

    Back then, Freddie’s and the D.C. sports bar Nellie’s were one of the few venues that featured drag brunch. Now it’s so popular that mainstream venues are serving up drag with their eggs benedict like it was just a cover band.

  • A Site is Born

    During the spring of 2010, I enrolled in Professor Richard Donnelly’s New Ventures Class at the George Washington University (GWU) School of Business.  Students had to create ideas for a new venture, form groups of four and present the idea to the entire class at the end of the semester.

    My teammates were Daniel Lonnerdal, Jing Xe, and Mustafa Onerci.

    “What I learned from the Foodspotting eatup at Burma Restaurant was the need to provide faceted search where users can choose their cuisine, type of dish, ingredients, and taste preferences,” I said.

    “Not only that, but you can choose your mood and ambiance,” Jing added. “Last weekend, I went on a date with my boyfriend. I tasked him to find something romantic with a pleasant view and no distractions, and thank goodness he didn’t disappoint.”

    “Lucky for him, he came through. And if you’re a fan of sports like me, you can select the team that you like to watch, and the site will tell you which pubs to visit.  A Falcons fan definitely doesn’t want to stumble blindly into a Saints bar.  Unless you’re game for an ass whooping contest.”

    “Perfect example — what shall we name it?” Daniel asked

    We brainstormed for a few..”How ‘bout Food Runner?” Mustafa suggested.

    “Nah, some people drive or catch a cab.”

    “How ‘bout Run this Town?” Jing asked.

    “Nah, not a big fan of Jay-Z.”

    “How ‘bout Dining Out?” Daniel asked.

    “Meh, how ‘bout RUNINOut?” I suggested.

    “That’s a weird name. Like running out of food, groceries, things to do?” Mustafa asked.

    “Umm, yeah that’s an accurate expression.” I began to write the name on the notepad.

    “Strange…Looks too much like RUIN tho. And isn’t running spelled with two N’s and one G?” Jing asked.

    “Yeah, but that’s just too long to fit in an address bar. I like the shortened version even if we’re ruining the spelling.”

    “It’s kinda catchy, but I think people will get confused and misspell it. Then they won’t be able to find it on Google,” Jing replied.

    “Well tell that to Larry Page and Sergey Brin when they came up with Google or Jerry Chang with Yahoo.”

    “Too bad we’re not in Silicon Valley. So are you going to hire someone local to develop the site?” Daniel asked.

    “Would love to, but the prices in this town are up in the stratosphere due to high demand from government contracts.”

    “Then why don’t you outsource the work to India, the Philippines, or Africa?” Mustafa suggested.

    “We can outsource the content management once the structure is in place. But to build the foundation, I want to find a team from North America who understands our culture, our cuisine, our history, our beliefs, and attitudes. Someone who I can physically reach out and touch if I need to and someone that won’t break our piggy bank.”

    “Where can you find such gifted talent whose willing to work below market price?” Daniel asked.

    “Dunno, but maybe we can find a technical co-founder at the next tech meetup.

    “That’s possible. And I hope we get good feedback from Professor Donnelly and the class during our capstone presentation next month.”


    Presenting RUNINOut at the New Ventures Class at The GWU University
  • Burma

    Burma

    I was attending the monthly Freelancers, 3rd Sunday meetup in Burma Restaurant in Chinatown on a chili March day in 2011. Located on 6th Street near the Friendship Archway, the second-floor restaurant is popular with local politicos such as Mayor Adrian Fenty and Attorney General Eric Holder, as well as artists and activists, and fans of Nobel Peace Price laureate Suu Kyi.

    Many also came to greet the Sao (princess). Jane Nuwadee Tinpe’s husband served as a diplomat in Britain, India, and in D.C. The princess and her husband, a diplomat, lived in big houses that her family ruled for generations. She never had to cook because maids took care of their daily chores.  But in 1989, they fled Burma after a coup and the military regime rebranded the country Myanmar.  The Sao and her husband then opened this restaurant on New Year’s Day in 1990, and they have been serving mohinga and curry ever since.

    John Tinpe, the youthful 40-something son of the Sao, is a globetrotter and public servant who has been recognized by the Mayor for his community service.  For several years, he served as the Chair of the Commission on Asian and Pacific Islanders in the District.  In 2010, he was instrumental in saving the Mayor’s Office of Asian and Pacific Islander Affairs (MOAPIA) when a budget proposal to demote the office and cut its staff was proposed.

    In his free time, he works as a supernumerary or extra in the Washington National Opera and Kennedy Center Ballets at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts.

    One particular patron was having difficulty deciding. He constantly ordered the Burmese mango pork, with the delectable pieces of pork braised with pickled mango; it simmered a lasting impression that he often savored during long days in the office.  With the advent of the new year, he wanted to branch out and broaden his culinary horizon.  But indecisiveness gripped him, and John Tinpe was getting a tad bit impatient since he had a whole dining room of guests.

    “I can’t decide between the fish curry and tamarind fish. Why don’t you just choose for me?” he asked. “I make enough decisions at work.”

    I looked at him in disbelief. “Wow, you make huge decisions for the government daily that affect millions, and you can’t choose a damn spice?”

    JR, the event organizer, looked at his watch. “Wouldn’t it be great if all 30 of us attendees could order from the phones. Too many people, too many choices, too little time.”

    “And wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could discover who ordered what dishes in the past,” his son David added. “If I knew that a particular friend that I respected enjoyed a certain dish, that would provide instant validation.”

    So when the last dish was served, and all the attendees were satiated, I gingerly approached John with these seemingly trivial issues.

    He was beyond receptive. “Hey, why don’t you build a site where people can order dishes from their phones, then select and save their favorite ingredients and spices in their own foodie profile?”

    “One customer always orders the mango pork, the other prefers coconut chicken curry,” JR chimed in. “Maybe they should be a little adventurous and switch orders next time.”

    “I’m sure if they did that, neither one would complain, or notice for that matter,” John added with a healthy grin.

    After working arduously for a week, I was ready to demo the prototype.  It was unrefined and barely working, but the only goal was to prove John’s idea was viable.  Now I just needed to find participants. 

    Last month, I attended an eatup hosted by Foodspotting.  The site was launched in 2009 as a way to discover and rate specific dishes. While Yelp was focused on reviewing restaurants, Foodspotting would only feature the dish and didn’t accept negative comments.  The Silicon Valley startup could not have emerged at a better time.  With the advent of the smartphone and social media, food photography became a popular, ritualistic behavior and Foodspotting became the Pandora for food.  

    The eatup at People’s Ramen in Columbia Heights D.C. was attended by Nom Nom Boris, a food blogger “who is eating the world one dish at a time” and Dan Rosenstein, a professional food photographer.  Dan was using a Nikon D500 DLSR, with a 24mm wide-angle lens.  He covers all types of food and also shoots sports, concerts, corporate events, and parties.

    Lisa Mathias, who was the local ambassador for the group, was also a writer for Citysearch, an online guide to finding local businesses.  Over the year, she had compiled an extensive list of her favorite restaurants from different cuisines, so she was always open to new suggestions. 

    So I contacted Lisa with a suggestion for a new event.

    “Perfect. I’m half Indian and half Filipino, so Burmese is right in the middle.”

    During the eatup, the dozen or so foodspotters scanned a QR code that showed pictures of each dish listing their ingredients and flavors. The page also provided examples of people’s food profiles, so you could see what a particular person liked or disliked. Each person would then make their own selection and provide a brief critique.

    What helped was that foodspotters not only enjoyed sharing food, but they had an inclination to discuss intricate details about which particular dish or ingredient they relished.  

    “Mmm the golden fingers — calabash sticks served with tamarind sauce and deep-fried to crispy perfection,” Lisa said.

    I was in good cheer, as I collected lots of feedback which would assuredly enhance our growing trove of information.


    Guests sharing plates @ Burma

    “This was a fun event, and I’m glad you guys were able to test out our model,” I said. “John will be thrilled to see the results.”

    “You have an interesting idea,” said Lisa. “Are you trying to build a competitor to Foodspotting?” 

    “Absolutely not.  We’re here to complement not compete. While you deploy your army of foodspotters to taste and capture each dish, we’ll collate your content, so customers can make better, more informed decisions.”

  • The Tower

    The Tower

    I enrolled in the Executive MBA program, and before the semester started, our cohort of 20 eager students embarked on a five-day retreat at the Homestead Resort in Hot Springs, VA.

    Our team coaching sessions led by Professor James Bailey didn’t require PowerPoint or pointers but still had everything to do with leadership development — You can’t create a leader in a classroom.

    After spending two days engaged in team-building exercises and thought-provoking discussions, we were ready to get some fresh air. The next morning, we hiked down the Allegheny Mountain gorge trail, through the thick forest, past the lovely cascade falls until we arrived in the middle of a grassy field with a gigantic wall affectionately known as the Tower. At first glance, the 40-foot Tower seemed daunting and insurmountable. 

    Throughout life, we face many obstacles both personal and professional. The key to responding to these roadblocks is to face them head-on and to rely on the support from others around you. This is teamwork — being supported and supporting each other. To work as a team, it’s imperative to understand each other’s strengths and weaknesses, both physically and mentally. The better we know one another, the better we’re able to assist each other.

    The Ropes Course is a metaphor for problem-solving — it challenges us to face our fears and climb on. The higher you climb, the more you rely on your team for support.

    The first task was to have each person assist their team members in donning their harnesses — the one crucial piece of equipment for our safety and protection.

    Then each team ascended in tandem facing the challenge of not having enough steps for all three to ascend at the same time.  Sometimes a climber would have to take a step down in order for another climber to proceed.  That was ok, as long as they all reached their final destination together.

    Meanwhile, the rope handlers kept a close eye on the climbers, coaching them on where to place their hands and feet and providing support and encouragement so that the 3-member team could ascend up to the top together and then back down.

    When it was my turn to go, I knew I could rely on my teammates Senodja Walker and Amir Moore. 

    Rope team:

    “Senodja, place the right hand on the block and your left foot on the step.”

    “Amir, move your right foot off the step and place it on the block so that Senodja can place her foot on it.”

    As the climbers moved up the wall and then back down, the Belay teams were tasked to remove the slack by paying out or pulling in the excess line. They kept a close eye and a taut line, but they were not allowed to pull the crew up the wall — the climbers had to figure this out on their own.

    Climbers: “Slack!” (pay out a little rope.)

    Belayers: pays out the rope and pauses to see if climbers ask again.

    Climbers: “Up rope.” (pull in rope slack.)

    Belayers: pulls in rope and pause to see if climbers ask again.

    Senodja Walker

    Eventually, all of us made it over the wall and back down, taking one step at a time.  The journey in life is rarely simplistic and straightforward. If we keep striving, we will eventually reach our goals, even if we have to climb over life’s challenges, obstacles, and setbacks.

    The EMBA class was broken down into five groups of four and we would remain in our group for the entire two years.  One of the first projects that we worked on was the Airline Pilots Association.  ALPA, with 53,000 members and 40 airlines in the U.S. and Canada, is the largest airline labor union in the world.

    We were having a conference call on skype when I touted the fact that airlines such as Jet Blue and Delta have successfully used Twitter and Facebook to promote their products and to provide updates on weather and flight cancellations.

    “I’ve had it with you. Your solution to everything is always social media!” Eli my classmates exclaimed.

    This wasn’t the first time he had said that and we always seemed to butt heads over the value of social media for building brand awareness and winning new customers.

    I immediately slammed the phone down and ended the conference call.

    The next thing I did was call Senodja on the phone. “I can’t work with Eli any longer — he’s so unaccepting of social media. I’m here to learn and broaden my horizon, not to clash heads.”

    “Wish you could join my team, but we’re already maxed out.”

    “Then maybe I should try to understand his point of view better and discuss our differences.”

    “Or perhaps you could transfer out of the EMBA and enroll in the Professional MBA program — it may take a little longer to complete but you have a choice of a wide selection of classes and work with a diverse myriad of people.”

  • Freddie Gray

    Since I spent a few days in Baltimore for the Drupal Camp, I used my free time to tour and explore other restaurants nearby.

    Mount Vernon, a haven for millennials and college students, had recently turned into a corridor for crime. There have been several incidents where law-abiding citizens have been mugged or gunned down, leaving many Baltimoreans feeling vulnerable and insecure.

    And this was during a time when many retail businesses were still on a rebound after being roiled by weeks of tense protests after the April 19th death of Freddie Gray, a 25-year-old black man who was tossed around the back of a police van while he was shackled by his hands and feet. He died a few days later from a severe injury to his spine.

    The protests began on April 25th, 2015 as a peaceful demonstration outside the Camden Yards baseball park but eventually turned violent when demonstrators clashed with fans. Over the weekend, a plan at circulated on social meda

    The following Monday, April 27th, a plan had circulated on social media for a purge event — a reference to the 2013 dystopian film in which all crime is made legal for one night — to start at Mondawmin Mall in NW Baltimore and to proceed down Pennsylvania Ave towards downtown. The police got wind of this plan and stopped all buses and forced all riders to disembark. The students then gathered together and started pelting bottles and bricks at the police. Violence escalated and rioters started looting the Mondawmin Mall.  The violence continued for the next few days, resulting in 144 vehicles and 15 buildings being burned. Even after the curfew was lifted a week later, it took weeks before customers found it safe to return. 

    Sirenat, the owner of Thai Landing on N Charles St. was a 30-something, slim woman with a bright smile and positive attitude. She agreed to hire me to design their website. Many people were still scared to come out, but they were keen on online ordering. She also needed help in drumming up her business and attracting positive publicity.

    I didn’t know too many people from Baltimore, but I did know someone from D.C. who had spent a lot of time there. His family was in the restaurant business, and as a realtor, he was familiar with the lay of the land up north. As president of D.C. Asian Professionals and the founder of the Charm City Eats meetup group, Joe Nam Do was very well connected.  Just like John Tinpe from Burma, he was well regarded by the D.C. Mayor’s Office on Asian and Pacific Islander Affairs. 

    Joe wholeheartedly agreed it was time to patronize local businesses and to host events that showed our true support.

    “It is a Prix fixed menu of their top Thai dishes for $25 per person,” I said. “The owner wants good reviews on Google and Yelp and wants the dishes featured on RUNINOut.”

    “As long as she’s serving my favorites: pad thai, drunken noodles, and massaman curry, I’m down,” he said.

    “That’s just the tip of the iceberg. Sirenat will be serving Tom Yum Goong, pineapple fried rice, grilled fish with lemongrass, and papaya salad.”

    “But we have a couple of vegetarians in our group.”

    “No worries, they have veggie chicken and duck and it’s hard to tell the difference.”

    “That sounds amazing – I love Thai food, and I have lots of faith in our community. Let’s support Thai Landing and Go Charm City!”

    Joe Nam Do and Lily enjoying the Pad Thai and guests

    “So, Joe, did Sirenat’s cooking live up to your expectations?”

    “I’ll say — fresh, flavorful and healthy.”

    “Thai Landing is my very first client in this city.” 

    “And hopefully many more. Baltimore may be rough around the edges. But she’s changing and growing every day.  You should consider moving here one day. They have a burgeoning Asian community.”

    * * *

  • TAPS

    TAPS

    Suzannah was a godsend who turned out to be a perfect sales rep and event organizer for our fledgling startup. Originally from Charleston, she carried the charm of a genteel Southern hostess and a transcending smile of a graceful beauty queen. She arranged a meetup with Biergarten Haus, a German beer garden on the newly revitalized H Street corridor known locally as the Atlas District. Suzannah reached out to Arturas “Jeepo” Vorobjovas who also co-owns the Russia House in Dupont Circle.  

    “Have you googled your restaurant lately?” Suzannah asked. “Your online reputation can either be an asset or a liability, and we’re here to help.”

    “Germans love their pilsners and already flock to our beer gardens. Our reputation is flawless.”

    “But there are so many beer lovers, who are not familiar with the art of drinking Bavarian beer. We’re here to make the introductions.”

    Jeepo was easily persuaded by Suzannah’s charm and got her in touch with Ali Loo, the general manager who agreed to provide free food for our event. 

    Now the difficult chore of attracting people fell squarely on my shoulders. I immediately visited the Meetup website and noticed the D.C./Metro Area Reddit group was hosting an Oktoberfest event and searching for a venue. I contacted them, and they agreed to co-host the event with us as long as we would share with them our favorite Subreddit group.

    “Beer Drinkers!” I answered enthusiastically. “And German beers reign!”

    Biergarten Haus

    The Biergarten prosts German brews by the stein.  And since the beer drinker’s paradise is home to over 200 yeast strains, 40 sorts of malt, and 100 different hops, there’s a different taste for every day for the rest of your life.

    The Biergarten is beyond spacious. There are three bars spread throughout the entire grounds: outdoor, indoor, and on the rooftop all with phenomenal views. There was floor-to-ceiling vintage art decor that brought back fond memories of fun times at a Stuttgart beer hall. German -enthusiasts sat beside long, rustic wood tables, while many held foot-tall beer steins congregating around repurposed bourbon barrels. Outside an oompah-pah band played traditional Oktoberfest music and women in blue polka-dotted dresses danced the Schuhplattler. 

    Pork Knuckle (Schweinshaxe)

    Ali brought out the pork knuckle served in a puddle of malty beer gravy. The lip-smacking rich meat wrapped in a golden sheath of crackling easily fell off the bone.  It was the perfect dish that served a large, rambunctious group of techies in a boisterous beer hall.

    Suzannah raised her stein to Ali and me. “What a lively event, kudos on our first one together.” 

    Reddit / RUNINOut Meetup at Biergarten Haus

    “Danke schön,” I replied. “I picked up a phrase here and there at my last duty station in Stuttgart.”

    “Well I know no Deutsch, but my Grandma was born and raised in France, and she made sure we spoke it fluently.”

    “Super, maybe you should visit Bistrot Du Coin in Kalorama for our next event. We can all mingle over Foie Gras.”

    “That’s quite a hike. There’s nothing French in the Atlas District?”

    “Unless you consider Louisiana French?”

    “Absolutely, Cajun is a combination of French and Southern cuisines, which is kind of like me, since I’m a Carolina girl with French descent.”

    “True dat. Well there’s TruOrleans, the new Cajun restaurant on the west end.”

    The following week, I met with James “Tru” Redding who just opened his bi-level Cajun restaurant just over the H Street Bridge.  Redding is also a partner in Arlington’s Sushi Rock and Dupont Circle’s Public Bar and Lupe as well as Landover’s Stadium Club, a steakhouse and strip gentlemen’s club.

    The previous tenant was a run-down radio station where Petey Greene, the legendary ex-convict turned radio talk-show host, worked and was instrumental in calming the people of D.C. in the aftermath of Martin Luther King’s assassination. 

    Today, the building is beautifully renovated with exposed bricks and an airy New Orleans-style veranda giving it an authentic French Quarter vibe. A sign painted on the side of the building shows a retro-looking advertisement for ginger mint julep.

    Tru Redding met me at the patio and gave me a spirited tour of his new digs.  I admired all the wall art that Redding picked up from Bourbon Street, reflecting the character and soul of the Big Easy.

    We sat upstairs on the veranda enclosed by ornate wrought iron railings with a commanding view of the Capitol. Overhead, large fans rotated above us, ushering in a cool breeze.  He offered me an Abita Purple Haze and we sat down by a stained-wood table with bottles of Tabasco sauce and “Slap Ya Mama” Cajun seasoning.

    “So what made you open up a Cajun restaurant in D.C.?”

    “During a local golf tournament, I met the East’s, a third-generation Louisiana family who invited me to a duck hunting trip in the Creole Nature Trail. After a long day, we would return to their family home where they would cook up a storm.  It was the best Cajun Creole food I’ve ever tasted – not the fancy stuffy you find in the French Quarter. And after that, I was on a mission to bring back a slice of N’awlins to the Nation’s Capital.”

    “Has everything gone as planned?”

    “We made a lot of mistakes.  We opened up way too early and there were disruptions in service and food.  We need to reach out to folks who were not pleased with our services and give us a second try.”

    “Do ya’ll think H Street is ready for a block of the Big Easy?”

    “We certainly do. We want to be good neighbors, though, and we hope that we can bring the right balance of Mardi Gras festivities while been courteous and considerate of our neighbors.  Hopefully, they will see us as good citizens, and we need your help in spreading that message.”

    The following month we co hosted “The Taste of TruOrleans” with Eventstir, a crowdfunding platform for events, and over a dozen people met up at the patio to devour D.C.’s best Cajun-style cooking.

    We parked the pedicab outside and foodies piled in to devour pistolettes, andouille-studded gumbo and crawfish étouffée, jambalaya, and gator tenders, compliments of Chef Andre Miller, a Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse alumnus.


    Suzannah enjoying TruOrleans cuisine

    Both Wayne Manigo, a local entrepreneur and comedian, and I were enjoying the Abita Purple Haze beer on tap.

    “I want to go back to the people of N’awlins and thank them for the birth of their food,” said Wayne 

    “And I want to them for their interesting cocktails and stiff drinks. The Sazeracs really packs a punch,” I said. “Wanna try the Hurricane next?”

    “How strong do you want it? They range from a mild level 1 to gale force 3 which is topped with Bacardi 151-proof rum,” the bartender said.

    I squinted back at him and made a confused face, and the bartender immediately knew which one to pour.

    “So what’s the next project Chef?” I asked.

    “We hope to be serving breakfast soon with beignets and jambalaya-stuffed biscuits.”

    “Laissez les bons temps rouler.”


    Suzannah enjoying Japanese Okonomiyaki

    Suzannah was the perfect adventurer in discovering and enjoying new cuisines.  She was someone who could make something as benign as eating crepes look attractive.  And beyond the bountiful platters of beef bourguignon and chocolate soufflé, she maintained her stunning, hourglass figure like Raquel Welch.

    It definitely helped that she was an ardent fan of cardio, and she kept reminding me of the importance of cutting back on drinks and staying active.

    “C’mon Chito, you’ve been drinking too much Abita. It’s time to work it out.”

    If we weren’t walking to restaurants, we were sprinting to them and often joining other casual joggers around the expansive (National) Mall. D.C. happens to be one of the best cities for runners due to its walkability and abundant access to parkland. 

    n one of our weekly rituals, we crossed paths with the Marine Corps Marathon runners at the Rock Creek and Potomac Parkway by the glamorous Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. We enjoyed making small talk with other runners and meeting new friends along the way just like we did at neighborhood restaurants.

    As we approached the scenic Hains Point peninsular, we saw hundreds of volunteers in blue, waving American flags with tribute posters commemorating the fallen.  What an inspiring and emotional way to honor and remember those who made their ultimate sacrifice.  I knew I would be sweating today, but no one told me that I would be weeping also. 

    I was honored to meet Monica Velez who lost two brothers—one in 2004 in Iraq and one in 2006 in Afghanistan. She was running her first marathon to raise money for TAPS, a non-profit organization that helps families nationwide cope with the deaths of their fallen soldiers. 

    José “Freddy” Velez

    José “Freddy” Velez

    Corporal José “Freddy” Velez was killed in action in Fallujah in 2004 and was posthumously awarded the Silver Star.

    “Oct 31st, 2004 was the last day we spoke to Freddie. His final words to us are, ‘Be Strong, Don’t Give Up.’ Still holding on to those words and that moment.” 

    Specialist Andrew Velez had the difficult task of escorting his brother’s body back to the United States. Two years later, he committed suicide in Afghanistan.

    Left-Right: Freddie, Monica, Andrew Velez

    “Tell me more about TAPS.”

    “TAPS helps brothers and sisters, fiancés, and battle buddies by providing counseling and grief support.  They get us all connected so we can talk about our grief and work through it together.”

    “Being a sibling is a lot more than being a spouse and parent.  I expected to have my brothers with me for the rest of my life. With TAPS, I’m able to share my stories and help other family members. I’m able to reach two different spectrums of grief and help them go through the coping skills to get through each day.”

    “Monica, your story really touches my heart. I want to thank both Freddy and Andrew who made their ultimate sacrifice You are a special angel – thank you for your service of gold.  Continue on your journey.”

    “I remember our long runs together. I can hear my brothers cheering for me now.”

    I stopped to give Monica a long embrace.

    As we said our goodbyes, I promised myself to return next year.  If not to run, then to cheer runners along the course. I was deeply moved and inspired by their spirit and drive.  And for those who gave their lives, their sacrifices will not go in vain.

  • Folklife Fest

    Folklife Fest

    July 7, 2007

    I was running vigorously along a cinder path, flanked by the Smithsonian Castle and the Museum of Natural History, when I suddenly realized that running was my heaven on earth. It was also the optimal time to be in D.C. during the pomp-filled Smithsonian Folklife Festival, showcasing Northern Ireland and the Mekong Delta. The most northern country of the U.K. was experiencing a watershed moment following ten years of stability and peace. Over 100 participants from Ulster — performers, artists, storytellers, craftspeople, cooks, etc. — traveled to the Nation’s Capital for several months to teach, demonstrate and display their lifestyle in their Celtic homeland.

    Running and sweating profusely along my well-worn path, it’s very rare to have a chance to enjoy a cold one. 

    Noticing that the Northern Ireland display had an actual outdoor bar and dehydrated after an arduous run, it was hard to resist the cooldown. I ordered a creamy pint of Guinness that would surely quench my raging thirst.

    This is where I met Jamie, a cute, cheerful brunette who had an avid interest in anything Celtic. This was her second year volunteering for the Folklife Fest, and she enlisted so that others could enjoy her passion for folk.

    “Some people have volunteered for 30 years. Once you serve for 10, you get a pin. Some say that the pin’s diamond is a shaving from the Hope Diamond on display at the Natural History Museum.”

    The Irish love to drink, toast, and chat, and soon Mark Wilson and Lee Lawson, stylish musicians strutted out, showing off their remarkable set of drums. The two could twirl the drumsticks like a cheerleader’s baton and never miss a beat. There was a variety of other musicians and bagpipers at the festival, but Mark was one hell of a drummer who could put on a captivating show leaving the crowd in awe.

    Mark introduced me to Tommy Sands — a legendary Irish-ballad singer whose bariton Irish Gaelic voice could calm even my most excruciating painful runs. I could listen to him endlessly and grieved when the show concluded. I gave Tommy one of my signature military coins, and he presented me with one of his CDs that had not yet been released — I felt royally honored and overjoyed by such a heartfelt gesture from such an endearing musician.

    Mark and Lee, snare drummers, during the Smithsonian Folklife Festival

    Mark picked up a drum stick and gave it a twirl. “Why don’t you join us at the Key Bridge Marriott after the festival.” 

    “Yeah, it’s the after-hours entertainment in the ‘Olympic Village’ for all the performers,” Lee added.

    When I arrived in the drab brown ballroom I was immediately met by Scottish bagpipers and colorfully dressed people from the Bahnar tribe of central Vietnam. There was lots of music, dancing, multicultural harmony, and of course traditional ethnic food.

    Mark picked up a traditional French baguette with what looked like deli meat inside. “What kind of sandwich is this?” 

    Jamie picked up a slice of pate. “It’s a Banh Mi, a Vietnamese baguette.”

    “Wow, the crust is super thin and crispy. What’s inside?” Lee asked.

    “That’s precisely what makes a Banh Mi different than an American sub. It has pork belly, grilled pork, pate, cucumbers, cilantro, and jalapeños,” Mr. Nguyễn, who was responsible for narrating the tall tales of the Mekong Delta, replied.  

    Mark took a bite and chewed softly. “Geez, I’ve grown up loving corn beef and Ulster fry, but I appreciate the opportunity to try different cuisines.”

    We stayed up late meeting new people, dancing, and consuming Guinness and Harp. At 2 am, we hung out by the pool and went for a dip.

    “Have you visited Irish pubs in the area?” Jamie turned and asked.

    “Don’t believe I have, except maybe on St Patrick’s Day. Any recommendations to get a good pint of Guinness?”

    “In Virginia, there are Ireland’s Four Provinces, and in D.C., there’s the Irish Channel.”

    “Super, word of mouth is the most reliable restaurant guide.”

    Tommy raised a pint of Guinness. “The mark of a true Irish pub is not the cottage pies or stouts, but real Irish drinking music.” 

    “And real football, not the fake one that goes spiral through the air,” Mark said. “There’s nothing like Ulster rugby — the Americans just copied us.”

    You guys should take a tour of the Pentagon tomorrow,” I suggested. “Would love to show you where I work.”

    “Really, didn’t know they were giving out tours now after 9/11.”

    “Well, we’ll visit the Sept 11 Memorial and chapel as well as the Hall of Heroes featuring the names of all the Medal of Honor recipients, but I’ll also give you a personal tour and show you the DOD (Department of Defense) press offices and briefing room.”

    “Would love that,” Mark replied. “And one day, I hope to show you my stomping grounds and spectacular countryside of Northern Ireland.”

  • Il Radicchio

    Il Radicchio

    Arlington is chock full of superior Sunday Brunch specials, so enticing that Washingtonians cross the river weekly to get their fill of boozy brunches. Just drive down Wilson Blvd. from Ballston to Rosslyn and there are brunch specials aplenty.

    Nestled between the intersection of Rosslyn and Courthouse, Il Radicchio has been serving oven-baked pizza and endless pasta specials since Clarendon was just a one-stoplight town.

    In the late 90’s Chef Roberto Donna opened Il Radicchio to add to his 12-restaurant empire that reigned the DMV restaurant scene. There were actually two other restaurants with the same name — one in Capitol Hill and one in Georgetown.

    It was a Donna concept similar to the well-acclaimed Galileo, yet more economical and efficient. While Carmine’s was known for authentic family-style dining with huge portions, Il Radicchio was known for its cozy, romantic ambiance serving smaller portions. 

    Judy Castiglia and I still had fond memories of last September’s meetup in Alba Osteria featuring authentic Northern Italian cuisine from Chef Donna’s Piedmont region. Now we wanted to see for ourselves if the current management kept the Donna gold standard alive.

    It had snowed a few inches the day before, a small accumulation coated the trees — everything was sparkling. Families and romantic couples were enjoying eloquent meals and light conversation while the soothing tunes of Frank Sinatra played softly in the background. We felt the warmth of the Italian brick oven and admired the lively walls covered with drawings of ducks, rabbits, and radicchios.

    I started with the fig arugula salad with pecans smothered in balsamic vinaigrette. “So, how’s your love life?”

    “Haw. how’s yours?”

    “Pizza and I are very happy together.”

    “Hee hee! Meat lovers or veggie?”

    “Neither just cheese.”

    Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’m dating a guy named Don who I met from speed dating. Don’t think it will last, though.” Judy forked into her field greens tossed generously with grapes, walnuts, and goat cheese.

    “Why he’s not smart enough for you?”

    “No, he’s brilliant. But I don’t think he’s over his divorce from three years ago.”

    I was admiring my beautifully plated rosemary lamb with poached eggs, chimichurri, and potato hash (russets mixed with sweet potatoes)

    Judy was now absorbed in her bacon-wrapped pork tenderloin with perfectly poached eggs and crispy polenta cakes.

    Judy enjoying her bacon-wrapped pork tenderloin

    I remember wanting to try the polenta last October at Donna’s Alba Osteria. But they went fast and were gone just as quick as when they arrived.”

    “is that the dish with the baked octopus? They went like hotcakes — Chef (Amy) Brandwein is a rising star.”

    “Yes, their eyes looked so inviting. And Chef (Andrew) Holden is doing an immaculate job today.”

    “Couldn’t agree with you more. But what I really wanna know is why you think he’s not ready to commit.”

    Judy cut into her tenderloin the brown sugar bacon drizzling in juice. “He lacks compassion and kindness for what I’m looking for. I made him a lasagna for Valentine’s, and he didn’t even bring a card.” 

    “What a prick.”

    “Well he’s brought flowers before and done other nice stuff, so he knows how to be a gentleman.”

    “Then was he trying to make a dumb statement?”

    “I guess I’ll give it just a little more time to see.”

    “I’ll say. It’s time for the second round.”

    Rosibel Carranza, a young mother from El Salvador came over with more zesty dishes.

    I couldn’t keep my eyes off Judy’s black Angus burger with crispy prosciutto and brûléed goat cheese.

    Judy bit into her homemade pickle and then took a bite of the potato hash made with russet and sweet potatoes. 

    Judy was served by Rosibel.

    “He has an MBA from MIT Sloan School of Management and has a security clearance so he’s probably not dangerous.”

    “MBA – that’s a worthless degree nowadays. I can vouch for that.”

    “Wait, if you didn’t return to school to get your MBA, you wouldn’t have founded RUNINOut.”

    “And I wouldn’t have gone to Ethiopia and met all those inspiring leaders, either.”

    “And if it wasn’t for Jason “Foodgeek” I never would have known about RUNINOut and all your great-tasting events”

    “Well, bring Don to our next eatup so Foodgeek and I can grill him for you. We won’t let anything slip through the cracks.”

    “I’ve invited Don before but so far he has shown no interest. He’s not into meeting people and trying different cuisines. Guess he’s kinda dull.”

    “Well, then I would dump him for sure. He’s definitely not your type.”

    “Yeah, I wish I can find someone smart, handsome, fun, happy, compassionate, and calm. That would be quite a catch.”

    “Well, that’s a high standard. I can’t imagine too many suitors in this town would qualify.”

    “Well, then what’s your idea of the ideal woman?”

    “Someone who’s resourceful, understanding, able to communicate, innovative, and decisive.”

    Judy snickered and violently shook her head. “No wonder you’re still single.”

    “Well, right now I’m in love with my rosemary lamb chops.”

    “I thought you were seeing Christine?”

    “Oh no, we’re just friends. She’s an amazing woman tho, so she shouldn’t stay single for long.”

    “Say, I have this friend I want you to meet — she’s super skinny and photogenic. Perhaps I’ll invite her to your next event.”

    “Please do, but if she’s that pretty, then I’m probably not her type.”

    “Well, do you use any dating apps?”

    “I’ve tried Tinder and it’s just a lot of chatter and small talk purgatory.”

    “How ’bout Hinge?”

    “Yeah, I met the co-founders at DC Tech — they’re nice guys, but I wouldn’t recommend their app.”

    “Why not.”

    “Cuz I don’t think their algorithm referring friends of friends really works.”

    “Well you’ve got a lot of friends on Facebook — maybe you can play matchmaker.”

    I chewed on that thought for a second when Chef Holden appeared with a beautiful plate of yogurt cream parfait sprinkled magnificently with nectarines, lavender, and almond granola. 

    Chef Andrew Holden

    Judy was still working on her burger “Oh no, if I only just had room.”

    “Kudos to the Iron chef!” I lifted my dessert fork ready to pounce. “You’ve made Chef Donna proud.”

    Andrew snickered “Yeah if Roberto Donna would just pay his taxes.”