Ferrett S.'s Profile

This is the most playful steakhouse you will ever eat at.  

The words "playful steakhouse" may seem a little odd, but when you think about it, most steakhouses have all the creativity of the post office.  You scan their menus to see what they have; "WE HAVE BEEF!" they say, pointing proudly to their hangers of well-aged meat.  

"That's cool," say I.  "So what do you do with the beef?"

"WE COOK IT," they say, looking vaguely baffled, as if merely procuring a twenty-dollar piece of cow and searing it on a grill should be enough.  

"No, I mean, what do you do with sauces?  Side dishes?  Rub-ins and spices?"

"WE OFFER LOADED BAKED POTATO!" they reply, as if the loaded baked potato is some new-fangled craze that they've only recently become aware of.  "ALSO, BREAD.  WITH BUTTER.  BUT NOT OLIVE OIL, THAT'S CRAZY, "

When the Big Advance in steak technology is, in fact, sprinkling bleu cheese on it, you know we're in trouble.  

But it's true; steakeries tend to be the backwaters of dining experiences, stuffy old places that are so busy talking about the quality of their meat, they've never once investigated anything else they could do with it.  Kind of like John Holmes, but older and deader.

Not so at Strip!  Strip does kooky things, and not just with beef.  They have a peanut-butter-and-Captain-Crunch-encrusted chicken, which they top with pepper jelly.  They call it the PB&J.  

They also have a brownie hamburger - just roll that around on your tongue, BROWNIE HAMBURGER - and donut fries that consists of brownie "burgers" on poundcake "buns" with mint "lettuce" and thin-sliced strawberry "tomatoes." The ketchup is actually raspberry sauce, and mustard (if I recall correctly) is mango sauce.  

So they're a little nuts there.  And if you want a little more to your Stripper meat, which is excellent, they offer all kinds of sauces (mercifully automatically on the side) and flavored butters to drizzle, as well as upscale side dishes like tater tots stuffed with bleu cheese and bacon.  

The servers are garrulous, yet informative, willing to go to great lengths to keep you happy, and the atmosphere is noisy come the evening - it used to be a barn, and has some of the echoiness of rafters in the place, but it's very clean and nice-looking.  

In short, if you want to fuse a mildly adventurous dining experience with the joy of dead cow, Strip can't be beat in Cleveland.  Highly, highly recommended.

There is a waitress here who will play The French Game with you, if you want.  The French Game is where you walk in with your head full of high school French, and try to order and carry on a conversation in French, and she too will make halting small talk with you as you both pretend you're in a foreign country.  

You don't have to play The French Game.  But I find it rather endearing that they're willing to go along with you.  

I I hope this is what it's like in France; not some overblown pretentious place where the waiters will spit on you if you don't show up in a tux with a beautiful girl at your elbow, but a little, worn cafe in a nice section of town.  The tiles have that sort of can't-be-mopped grit that comes from thousands of feet, and the tables are a little close, but it feels strangely convivial.  You can sit outside and watch the Cleveland locals pass by, which never gets old.  

The food has a lot of simple French dishes, each cheap and superbly done; they have crepes and chasseurs and kij and boeuf bourguiginon at a  price of about $12 each, and it's routinely delicious.  

The savory crepes are topped with a little bechamel sauce, folded as flat as a napkin, each inch stuffed with a thin bit of chicken or mushroom or salmon - perfectly done, and good to the last bite.  Their steak au roquefort is juicy, served with French bread with a little white cheese spread over it, and it is delicious.  

The dessert crepes are also perfection - gooey enough to satisfy my prodigious sweet tooth, yet not oozing so much that it explodes when you try to cut a piece off.  Crepes are a bit of a pretentious thing now, like cupcakes, but there's not an ounce of pretention in these - just quiet craftsmanship, the mark of a restaurant that's served thousands of these and knows what they're doing.  

The service is good - it gets a tad slow when there's a lot of people in here, which there usually are, but the waitresses are quick to keep your drinks topped off, and the atmosphere is intimate that you should bring either a beautiful woman to talk to, or a wondrous book to read and ponder.  Time moves slowly at La Petit Triangle, but with the gracious slowness of a well-spent afternoon, the kind of sleepy, just-got-out-of-bed slowness that you don't want to end.

One of Ohio's treasures, really.  Oh, and you can get a full meal, with two drinks each and dessert, for $60 sans tip.  That's a bargain price that really makes it all worthwhile.

The first thing you'll notice about Dolce Wraps is that the name is completely wrong.  They are neither a dessert place nor a wraps place.  They're a Middle Eastern place - I mean, they serve wraps, certainly, but you're there mostly for the falafel or the tabbouleh or the other fine foods.  And they DO have a limited selection of desserts, but it's not really the highlight of the spot.  

It's kind of like if McDonald's called itself "Salads 'R' Us."  Or the Velvet Tango Room called itself "Cheese Platter Heaven."  I mean, dude, your marketing is kind of at lacking here.  Which is a shame, because I suspect people are driving by this little, easily-overlooked spot and saying, "Wow, I'd like some hummus, but that place serves wraps."  

That aside, how's the food?  It's pretty good for what it is.  I feel like a choad here, leaving three stars when every other review is ZOMG BEST FOOD EVAR, but I gotta be honest - what you have here is inexpensive, passable middle eastern food that's the kind of food you could eat on a regular basis.  It satisfies your needs without necessarily excelling to the point of rhapsody - and it's at a price where you can go pretty much as often as you'd like.  

The difference may be that I actually LIKE Aladdins, which everyone else here treats like it's the local indie band that made it big.  "Oh, you like them?" they sneer.  "They sold out, man.  They sold out."  Then they smoke clove cigarettes and put on their fedoras and then go home and grow their own obscure vegetables you've never heard of.  

Look, Aladdins is good food, if a little standardized.  Dolce Wraps is an independent store, and it is very pretty - the interior is surprisingly beautiful for a mall-based place.  You could sit there in quite a bit of comfort.  And the food is decent - I find the chicken to be a little stringy when I've gone there, and the hummus to be a little coarse and paste-like, and I'm not as sold on the sauces as everyone else.  But everything is very fresh, definitely not frozen in the back until you need it, and it's kind of hard to complain when you can get a full plate for $6.00.  A full meal here will go for $10.  That's a bargain, compared to the McDonald's or Chipotle's in the area.  

In the end, Dolce Wraps is the local business I feel like I should frequent more often.  But when I feel like Middle Eastern, I either am not in the mood for their flavor of it, or I go to Aladdins, or I forget it's an option entirely.  Mostly it's the last reason, which is a shame.  Maybe it's the name.  But it's definitely worth hitting up to see whether you like it.

(EDIT: You know what?  I've taken off a star from enough restaurants for being overpriced.  On reconsideration, for such cheap and palatable eats, I've gotta add a star for being underpriced.  Four it is.)

Cleveland's history with Thai restaurants is a little muddied.  It's had many decent (if not exceptional) Thai restaurants, but something about the intersection of "Cleveland" and "Thai" equals, bafflingly, "Open at non-euclidean hours."  Time after time I've been told that a local Thai restaurant is good, only to discover that they're only open on Tuesdays at one o'clock after a full moon.  

And so, not surprisingly, the life span of a Thai restaurant in Cleveland tends to be brief.  The hole-in-the-wall becomes a Thai-in-the-wall, and then a hole-in-the-wall again.  Alas.  

So it is with great hopes that I announce that Banana Blossom seems to have sane hours, and a really nice locale.  It's not beautiful, but very stark and unobtrusive, and the food is good.  

We started with the appetizer sampler platter, and got a very nice mixed bag.  The spring rolls were a little mushy on the vegetables and the sauce lacked some brightness  - but the satay was brilliant, and the peanut sauce was so good I actually ate spoonfuls of it.  The shrimp was quite nice.  

The true test of any Thai house, however, is the curry - my wife had the red curry, which was very complex and flavorful, with a bright dash of red pepper splashed across it.  The masaman curry wasn't quite as complex - it was almost monotone in its peanutinness - but for a simple dish it was also damned tasty, and I finished it off without any leftovers.  Considering their portions are quite generous for the pricing, that's pretty damned awesome.  

Banana Blossom's my go-to example for "When star-based rating systems break down."  For Banana Blossom's right on the bubble between 4 and 5 - it's like a 4.44.  It's quite good.  It could be great, given another night or two.  So I hate giving it four stars, but five stars was just a tad too much.  Still, the average is about 4.5 stars overall, and that's about right.  

Plus, they're open when you get there.  in Cleveland, for Thai, that's a Herculean effort.

When I am rich, you will not be able to come here.  That's because I'm going to take the butterfly room and turn it into my office.  

Yes, that's a selfish thing.  But this place is so magical it turns men like me into misers.  The butterfly room is the most beautiful place in Cleveland - a phrase I wasn't expecting to whip out today, but it'd be the most beautiful place in a lot of cities.  You walk in and are surrounded by lush greenery reaching up to the skies, and colored scraps of pure prettiness flutter around you, chasing each other merrily, landing on your shirt.  There are so many butterflies come the summer that it's like walking through your own special effects, a place of stunning gorgeousness.  

Plus, if you wear a Hawaaiian shirt, the butterflies will attempt to mate with your shirt.  They don't leave stains, but you get to pick up butterflies on your finger.  

There are waterfalls in the butterfly room that splash delightfully, and you can walk underneath them; this is where I intend to put my bed once I get rich.  You can take an elevator up to a lazy walkway, where you can look below you and see the living kaleidoscope of thousands of butterflies darting erratically back and forth; this is where my home office will be, and I will walk lazily up from my bed to view my glory and feel that though I have no more money, having lost it all in the lawsuits where Cleveland tried to stop me from buying this public space, this was well worth it.  

It is gorgeous here, like walking into your own set for Avatar.  Every time I forget how pretty it is, and then I take a guest here, and they too fall in love.  You will, too.  

You should all hope that I don't come into wealth.  Because I'm serious.  This is my fantasyland, the place where the butterflies hatch and fly for me, and for right now you can share it with me.  You should.  Soon.  Because you don't know what you're missing.  

Oh, and there are some flowers and gardens, too.  They're also very pretty.  You can keep walking in those; I'll be in my butterfly house, entranced to butterfly techno, a smile of delight on my face.

Reviewing a Dairy Queen is an odd proposition: do you review it by Dairy Queen standards, in which case you have to compare it to all the other DQ experiences, or do you review it by an absolute standard of DQ versus all other ice creams?  

In a sense, reviewing a Dairy Queen is like reviewing a McDonald's or any other chain place: if someone's going, "Oh, jeez, what is this 'Burger King' place?" they're probably sufficiently culinarily clueless that they're not going to BE on Yelp.

So let's be honest here: It's Dairy Queen.  If you know what you're getting, then you either like it or you don't.  By DQ standards, it's a good four to five stars; it's clean, the ice cream flows steadily, and the staff is nice.  

But if you like ice cream at all -

- well, not to be snobbish.  Lord knows I gave it a shot, because it's the only ice cream store within easy walking distance from my house, and I'd love to have a sundae that I could get merely by walking a half a mile.  And I did have some childhood memories of DQ fondness.  

So I went the first week it was open, and got myself a nice hot fudge sundae with vanilla ice cream, and lo!  Though the fudge was nicely gooey for the brief moment it was hot, the ice cream underneath was a combination of chilled styrofoam and half-recycled plastic - utterly lacking in flavor.  It was cool, and it didn't melt easily, and that was about what you could say for it.  

But hey!  Some of you really like the air-puffed stuff, and if you do, well, it's going to give you that Dairy Queen experience.  It's also good for the kids, 'cause it's cheap.  If you're a little pickier, however - and I encourage you to be - then there are several of Cleveland's delectable custard stands about the neighborhood, many within easy driving distance, and if you've got the car check them out.

You are in the middle of a war.  You do not realize this.  But you have already taken sides, and your review of this cupcakery will tell you which side of the battlefield you are on:

Are you a person who believes a cake is a delivery mechanism for that sweet, creamy icing, and they could serve it to you on an envelope as long as it was slathered in frosting?  

OR:

Do you believe that a cake is about the moist, delicious cake inside, and that icing on the cake is, well.... the icing on the cake?  

If you think that a (cup)cake is about the cake, YOU ARE WRONG.  Do not pass Go.  Return to sender.  And so, having chosen the losing side in the battle, you can pleasantly skip Main Street Cupcakes.

If, however, you are on the side of rightness and goodness and warm soft puppies and you believe in the power of icing, then Main Street Cupcakes is the thin needle through which wondrous sucrose heroin flows.  

Because their cupcakes are lopsided affairs, the icing sagging to one side like an old Baltimore lady with a stiff bouffant, and almost all the flavor is in the icing.  The icing is delicious. It is flavorful, not that crappy cream cheese frosting that evil folk like, but the kind of rich frosting you can leave visible thumbprints in.

...and it has cake underneath.  

People get pissy because OMG I CAME HERE AND I DIDN'T GET CUPCAKES, but that's part of the charm.  They open up in the morning with a set supply of cupcakes, and when they're sold out - which they always do - they close the doors.  Not only does that set up a lovely racing situation where it makes the cupcakes more special, but come on!  Who doesn't wanna live that kind of life? You get up at 6:00 to make your cupcakes, and when the day's done you go home.  Don't be a hata.  

Also, you know, it means when you GET the cupcakes, they're fresh.  I'm sure you could make a case that HEY, THEY SHOULD BE COOL FOR MY CONVENIENCE AND BAKE INFINITE CUPCAKES THAT STAY ON THE SHELF UNTIL THEY'RE CRUSTY AND OLD, but the truth is when you get a Main Street Cupcake, the clock is ticking.  It lasts about thirty-six hours before it dries out and you're done.  These are natural cupcakes.  

Plus, the cupcakes come in a variety of flavors, they're always experimenting.  That's great.  

So it's five stars if you're on the side of the angels and their delectable frosting, Main Street Cupcakes is for you.  If you're on the side of, you know, cake, then I guess you can go somewhere else.  They probably cater to your kind.  Not that I'd sit next to you.

YOU CAN ACTUALLY COUNT THE DADS.  No, seriously.  I've been here on multiple occasions, and there is almost always one Dad on duty, and usually both.  You can identify them by matching them up with the murals of themselves on the walls.  It's like spotting Waldo.  

Truth in advertising.  All Dads, all the time.  After going to Wendys a hundred times and never seeing a single Wendy, this is a breath of fresh air.  (Don't even get me started on Five Guys.  Huh.  Usually three guys and a couple of chicks.  LIARS.)  

...what?  Food?

Oh yeah.  

Two Dads is a diner, and you have to judge it on diner terms.  This is the kind of place you go for some comfort food after a long day, where you know what you're getting.  Judged by these standards, it's a leg up.

First off, they usually have some gourmet raviolis, which is a nice touch.  (It's the same ravioli, I think, that they sell at the West Side Market, which I often buy in huge stacks for my freezer.)  Second, the menu's a little more ambitious than the usual diner fare, with oddballs like chicken paprikash and sweet potato fries.  

When they're on, they're ABSOLUTELY on.  The chicken paprikash was one of the best I'd ever had - creamy, hot, flavorful, the spaetzel perfectly done.  I devoured that sucker and asked for more.  And when I went back...

...well, that's the reason they don't get five stars.  The next time I went back, the paprikash had bones in it and was a little clotted.  Not terrible, but certainly not the glory of my last week's visit.  And my friends, who had their own favorite meals, discovered that on some days the food could not be beat, and on other days, it could.  

So it's a little uneven, and I'm not sure why.  Doesn't seem to be crowd-controlled, or chef-based.  Maybe the ingredients?  I have no idea.  In any case, it's usually worth your while, but some days it's like the best diner food you could hope for, and other days it's just pretty good.

Hence, a slightly-misleading four stars.  On a great day, it's five stars easy for the price.  On an off day, it's a walk to three stars.  Average is four - still well worth your time.

Plus, you know, you can see ACTUAL DADS.  IN THE WILD.  Isn't that worth your time?

A really nice little Turkish/Mediterranean place by the Cedar Lee theater - so after you're done seeing the latest snooty art flick, you can wash it down with some kebabs.  

The food here isn't fancy, but it is eminently satisfying.  Their yogurt kebabs are absolutely amazing, full of tasty chicken in a moist yogurt-based sauce that's zingy and beautiful.  Their baba ghanoush is a little grainy, but tastes good.  In fact, everything here tastes good - it's the kind of restaurant that's never exceptional, but literally anything you can point to on the menu is going to satisfy.  

Plus, the atmosphere is very relaxing.  The staff are friendly, the tables cozy, and they'll let you talk for hours.  Never had a problem here.  

It's not the kind of top-shelf place where I'd take my family when I wanted to impress them, but it IS the kind of place I keep going back to with my friends when I want to chat over some food.  It's homey, in all the best ways.  Recommended.

It's a no-atmosphere soul food joint.  You're going to be lucky if the staff doesn't actively mock you before shoving the food across a sticky counter in your general direction.  

Thus, there is but one reason to come here: the food.  

As you can see from my quintuple-star review, that food is reason enough.  

Cleveland is superior to Detroit in many ways, but Detroit generally whups us when it comes to good, stick-to-your-ribs soul food.  Thankfully, this will do quite nicely.  

The fried chicken is amazing - a light, crispy crust that's so tasty you could strip it off and eat it on its own, the chicken cooked to a juicy perfection.  The ribs are a little tough - though that's a style issue, they make them that way on purpose because some folks like chewy ribs (I prefer fall-off-the-bone), and there's not a lot of bark on 'em.  

Fortunately, they will ask you at the counter: "You want the sauce?"  Hell yes you want the sauce,  Peppery without being blatantly hot, flavorful, why the hell did you come to HOT SAUCE WILLIAMS if you don't want the sauce?   Might as well go to Six Flags America and not buy a flag.  

Anyway, the mac and cheese is soft but flavorful (no broiled crust, alas, which would bring it to perfection) and sticky with real cheese.  The mashed potatoes are saturated with butter, and a little chunky.  The candied yams are a little dry - I won't lie - but still nice enough to gobble through.

And it's cheap.  $9.99 will get you enough to last you through lunch and dinner.  

If you're looking for haute cuisine, well, maybe the hideous pink building should have warned you off.  You come here as a food ninja - you sneak in, snatch the chicken from the master's hand, and get the hell out with a full belly.  It works.