A Night at Spagna's

by Allory Williams

Rain splashes angrily against the windshield as the little blue Cavalier winds its way in and out of the hills of Washington County. As the gray sky grows even darker with the coming nightfall, the gas light begins to flicker on. My stomach growls and I accelerate. According to the glowing GPS in front of me, which has been shouting directions for the last hour, I am minutes away from my destination. It’s not that I don’t sympathize with my car, but if I have to choose who gets to fill their tank first, I choose me.

“You have reached your destination!”

I pull into a gravel parking lot next to a small, brick building in a small town on the outskirts of Marietta. Through the rain and the night, it doesn’t look like this building would be worth an hour drive on an empty stomach, but a cultivated eye recognizes these holes-in-the-wall as potential diamonds in the rough.

That’s what I am hoping Spagna’s be as I run through the rain to the restaurant. It’s why I haven’t eaten all day –though I could find no website depicting a menu or description, what I have heard is that the only way to arrive at Spagna’s is to arrive hungry.

Immediately after walking through the door, the atmosphere changes. I am no longer in a small town, inside a nondescript brick building. I am in a chic Italian restaurant, possibly just outside of New York City or maybe even Italy itself. Jazzy music floats around the high ceiling and in and out of the arched doorways as the bartender makes his way around to seat my friend, Emma, and I. Within minutes a waitress glides up, all smiles, to ask what we shall be drinking. Why not wine? When in Rome…

As often happens in an aromatic restaurant, my eyes grow larger than what my stomach is capable of holding. Eagerly, Emma and I order an appetizer of fried ravioli and help ourselves to the loaf of bread dipped in olive oil the waitress places on the table. When the ravioli arrives it is floating in a steaming half alfredo, half marinara bath beside a large meatball and an Italian sausage. We devour the appetizer before the waitress can return to take our order.

After much contemplation from a menu boasting classic Italian pastas and raviolis as well as grilled salmon, tuna and veal dishes, I decide on the special of the day – baked spaghetti. Emma decides on the baked ziti. Our meals come with a basic house salad: mixed greens, red onions, olives and multiple dressing choices. While it sounds pretty basic, this light dish amidst its heavier counterparts is a light enjoyment.

About twenty minutes later, our waitress dances from the kitchen balancing two impossibly large, steaming plates like a comparative scale. She sets them on the table, checking to make sure all is well before returning to the kitchen. I look up at Emma then down at my unconquerable dish, still bubbling from the oven. “We should have shared,” I say as we lift our forks to the challenge before us.

Perhaps Emma and I should have shared, but sympathy is completely unnecessary. After all, who would sympathize with ‘poor’ me, for indulging in a relative cake pan full of hot spaghetti al dente, swaddled in melted mozzarella cheese and savory Italian meats. Or ‘poor’ Emma, for foraging her way through large ziti noodles bundled in marinara and mozzarella like a winter coat.

After eating our fill, it doesn’t look as though we’ve even started. Our waitress makes her way back to the table and smiles knowingly – I feel safe in assuming that this has happened before. “Boxes?” she asks rhetorically. I can only nod.

While waiting for our check and boxes, we sink into the plush booth in a euphoric mood comprised of wine and the heavy Italian cuisine. Our bills arrive; after ordering a glass of wine, an entrée and splitting an appetizer, my bill comes out to be about $25 with tip. Emma’s is about the same. A couple could easily eat here for about $50, maybe $30-$40 depending on wine or appetizer orders. Not a bad price for an evening trip to “New York” or “Italy.”

Fullbrooks Cafe

by Annie Beecham

Fullbrooks Café in Nelsonville lies one block east of the beaten path of Route 33. The three miles of the notorious highway, littered with fast food restaurants, gas stations and beer drive thrus, encompassed the whole of Nelsonville that I’d ever known, until I made a sharp right at the Rocky Boots Outlet one bright fall morning and landed in a place I had heard of, but never been: the Historic Nelsonville Square. The Square is void of chains and traffic. Instead, art galleries, gift shops, a few restaurants, the Stuart Opera House and the Fullbrooks Café, a one-room coffee shop, line the edges of the Square. In the center is a strip of grass and a fountain; thin streams of water tumble from its spouts. The few people milling around—adults perhaps on lunch breaks, adolescents riding bikes aimlessly—contribute to the feeling that time is moving slowly.

Passing through Fullbrooks’ farmhouse-red door, the first thing I notice is the café’s petite size. Fullbrooks takes up just a corner room of the historic Dew House Hotel, built in 1830, which is now divided into assisted-living apartments. A tantalizing spread of homemade cookies, muffins, breads, pies and quiches rests on the counter. They’re baked fresh daily by employee Jennifer Abbott, who dreams up the recipes herself—the cookies are so popular, she sometimes has to restock with a new batch midday. Two person tables, paired with red chairs, line the room, and music emanates faintly from a sound system. The café serves breakfast (bagels, English muffins, oatmeal) and lunch (soup and fresh sandwiches with all the toppings: deli meat, hummus, pesto and more), and of course, brews coffee and every other warm beverage one would expect from a cafe. I order a large latte and fresh banana nut muffin, drizzle a bit of Mesquite honey atop, and find a table near the window to watch the Square, a sweet respite before I return back to campus and class.

Ariel-Ann Carson Dater Performing Arts Centre

by Brigitta Burks

For many people, the holiday season means catching a performance of “The Nutcracker” or “The Christmas Carol.” However, The beautiful, lush Ariel-Ann Carson Dater Performing Arts Centre, 428 Second Ave., in Gallipolis provides locals with some alternatives to the old Christmas standbys. The 100-year plus historic gem, a Victorian opera-house, is one of many pieces of history in Gallipolis. The Centre also boasts the only Southeastern Ohio professional orchestra—The Ohio Valley Symphony.

Several Christmas performances will be offered including a holiday show by the Symphony, a sing-along with Mr. and Mrs. Claus and a musical Nativity performance. Fans on Blue Collar Comedy, should check out “The Rednecks Un-Do Christmas", December 19 at 3 PM and 8 PM, and December 20 at 3 PM. Executive Director Joseph Wright called the show funny and full of spirit.

Life after the holidays also exists for the Centre. The Odd Couple, performed with women instead of men, will show Feb. 5 to 7. This show is for anyone who ever had a roommate—however, this version offers a twist as classic characters are played by women instead of men. Another prominent show, the zany Seussical, will premiere March 5. You can expect intricate costumes, rhyming and for your favorite characters to come to life at this Seuss-themed extravaganza.

The theatre also offers community involvement for everyone. Acting classes are offered and the Athens Junior Theatre offers children an outlet to express themselves. Classes like yoga and ballroom dancing is also offered at the Centre.

The Centre also has a “fashionista side.” It hosts events like The Bridal Expo on Jan. 30. and Brittany’s Prom and Formal Fashion Review on Jan. 24. With so much variety and beauty, stopping by the theatre for a show or just a look is highly recommended.

To learn more, visit http://www.arieltheatre.org/ or call (740) .446.2787.

Ironton's Toro Loco Restaurant

by Emily Hubbell

In Spanish, “Toro Loco” means “the crazy bull,” a phrase implying disorder and chaos. But as I walked into downtown Ironton’s family-owned Toro Loco Mexican restaurant, not a thing seemed out of place. The burgundy tiles on the tabletops formed a perfect row and column pattern, and the oversized wooden booths were situated neatly around the perimeter of the restaurant. The sponge-painted walls were a fitting backdrop for the Spanish portraits hanging at eye level.

Then I got the menu. All five jam-packed pages of it.

With more than fifty variations of Mexican restaurant staples—burritos, chimichangas, quesadillas and tacos—this must be where the ‘loco’ came from. I don’t know how the waitress kept track of all the combos or how the chef managed to perfect them. But, a short ten minutes after we ordered, the waitress appeared with a colossal quesadilla in hand. It was filled with the perfect ratio of meat to cheese and, as an added bonus, was smothered with Toro Loco’s signature white cheese sauce.

But I have to admit that dessert was on my mind even as I ate my quesadilla. The dessert menu was also endless. In addition to fried ice cream and other traditional Mexican desserts, the menu included six mini desserts that looked too good to resist. I ended up with a sopapilla—a fried pastry covered in whipped cream and sprinkles. My friend opted for one of the mini desserts, a tiny carrot cake with cream cheese icing. The portions were small; but after eating a quesadilla as big as my dinner plate, my taste buds were perfectly satisfied.

As I left Toro Loco, the dinner rush was just starting. Within minutes, every oversized wooden booth was filled with families. But there still wasn’t a trace of chaos. The waitresses hurried effortlessly, delivering massive burritos and quesadillas smothered with cheese to patrons at every corner of the room. And if the guests’ faces are any indication, the chef was still mastering the hundreds of menu items to the tee.

My meal at Toro Loco was delicious and reasonably priced. Needless to say, I’ll be back again for seconds.

Consignment Shopping

by Robin Donovan

Filling your closet with clothes you’re not sick of wearing on a tight budget can be tough. And with the economy recovering almost imperceptibly, it might be a while before many of us revisit the mall.

If you have a favorite local Goodwill or thrift shop, that can work. But whipping through racks filled with stained, damaged or hole-filled clothing gets old. Especially when holes don’t make themselves known until you’re out the door with non-refundable merchandise. Consignment shops offer a different experience. Unlike thrift shops that take donated duds, consignment shops allow sellers to receive a percentage of the sale price on each garment provided.

Lucky folks near Lancaster can hit up the Dresscode instead. Located north of Meijer on business route 33 through Lancaster, the shop accepts and sells clothing for teens and adults. Like many resale outlets, the Dresscode is heavy on ladies’ wear, but it’s no thrift shop.

First clue? The $1,199 fur coat hanging in the front room. I don’t know about you, but the last time I spent a thousand bucks on clothing was, well, never! The $5.99 multi-colored scarves hanging next to the coat are more my style. But that’s the point of consignment – you can find items that you’d never see at a thrift shop. An afternoon spent browsing the racks last week revealed more designer items and certainly a consistently higher level of quality than I expect from thrift shops.

According to a cashier I spoke with, $1.99 is about the lowest price offered by the store. Women’s shirts and pants range from about $6 to $10. Prom dresses, of course, are available in abundance (I think most women have one hanging in a closet somewhere) and range from $15-$350.

Ready to clean out your closet? The Dresscode has a $5 annual account fee and sets merchandise prices. Items are allowed on the floor for four to six weeks, and may be donated after that time unless they’re valuable—they’re not going to let that fur coat go to Salvation Army! The consignor receives 50 percent of the sale price.

Careful, now—don’t bring anything that has visible wear, is out of season, or is even rumpled. Anything you’re ready to sell needs to be pressed, on a hanger (you can pick up free ones from the store), and no more than two years old. Your excellent quality items will put cash back in your pocket that you’re free to spend on (you guessed it) new clothes!

The Buffington Island Battle

by Shane Holtzman

The fight of Buffington Island was fought in what is now called Portland, Ohio, and left 53 men dead as the memorial on the island states. It was a minor affair, a skirmish at best. The Battle of Buffington Island is the only Civil War battle fought in Ohio, making this site a prime place to visit for Civil War buffs.

As a Civil War enthusiast, the Meigs County memorial to the Buffington battle is a must see. The simple fact that Ohio is a part of Civil War history is astonishing. I had never heard of this battle, surprised me because I grew up in Ohio and have a proclivity for history.

The Battle of Buffington Island was fought by around only 14,000 men. It was miniscule compared to the Battle of Gettysburg, in which a staggering 163,000 men entered combat. However, despite the seemingly insignificant nature of the Buffington Island Battle, it is unique in that it contained three future Presidents of the US, which were James Garfield, Rutherford B. Hayes and William McKinley. A single skirmish involving three presidents is a steep claim for any Civil War battle.

There are four acres of preserved battlefield in Portland, Ohio, which is operated by the Ohio Historical Society. The Park to preserve the Battlefield of Buffington Island contains battle monuments, an Indian burial ground, and a pair of interpretive markers. Even though the four-acre park does preserve a very specific part of the battlefield, the entire 600-acre battlefield is in danger of coming under construction. This possible construction would turn the majority of the battlefield into a cement lot, which would make the re-enactments of the battle slightly less realistic.

Every spring, people from around Athens County and around the state of Ohio gather on the narrow field, barren of trees stretching along the flood plain of the Ohio River, to re-enact the battle. It smells old. A stiff breeze blows the topsoil off the field and I wonder if that’s the same dirt from 100 years ago. The memorial contains pictures of past re-enactments, even pictures of those portraying the three Presidents. These men were the lucky ones, the pretend future Presidents. From the pictures, the men look authentic, prideful, and even maintain certain nostalgia reminiscent of the real battle.

The Buffington Island memorial is not just for Civil War aficionados, but is a place that will allow the younger and older generation to connect with history.

Purple Chopstix

by Steve Zeisler

Opening the door, it seems as if I have stepped into a different world. Buddhas of various shapes and sizes smile at me as multi-colored dragons, flowers, and starfish dot the ceilings and walls. I actually learned that the majority of the artwork made for the restaurant is donated by Passion Works, which is an art studio in Athens that allows mentally handicapped adults to express their creativity through painting, ceramics, etc.

French jazz music radiates through the restaurant as my friend Jess hits the gong to signal that we’ve arrived and need service. This is the eclectic environment that you will experience at Purple Chopstix. A quaint restaurant located just minutes away from campus on Richland Avenue, it is actually an old house with an addition constructed for more space.

Jess and I sat down at the table, and soon realized that we were the only customers in the restaurant. I noticed that beyond the multi-colored artwork hanging on the ceiling and walls, other aspects of the restaurant were multi-colored as well. Our tablecloth was purple, the carpet was bright blue, and the chairs were an electric red.

The menu is as eclectic as the environment. Choices range from vegan sushi, Greek pizza, veggie tofu, Indian curry, and many others. It typically reflects a Mediterranean to Southeast Asian cuisine. Having been to Thailand, I was extremely excited. Jess and I decided to start out with Tom Yum Soup, which was beans and rice in a spicy Thai coconut broth with scallions and fresh ginger. After that, we ended up splitting the Greek pizza, which was creamy pesto spread on warm flatbread, topped with kalamata olives, fresh tomatoes, and feta cheese. We were both completely satisfied with the results.

Overall, our dining experience was lovely. If you’re looking for a nice sit down restaurant that serves non-traditional cuisine and plays funky French jazz music, this is the place for you. Support this local business. I promise you that you cannot go wrong.

Check out the website at www.purplechopstix.com.