Sunrise Diner is a Great Breakfast Stop

Eggs are tricky. The staple of many a breakfast joint, eggs can be rather ordinary. Most of us only know ordinary eggs. Most of us have also met up with the rubbery, overcooked, over manipulated egg, and the underwhelming and depressing affair that is an undercooked egg. Perfectly cooked eggs are usually found at home, where there is no time crunch and a room full of people waiting to be served. This is why I was a little apprehensive, but no less excited to see what dishes Chef Ernie Cornelius would have on his menu at his new place, Sunrise Diner, 1510 S. Main St., in Firestone Park.

I've been enjoying Chef Cornelius' cooking for a few years. He's a great cook, and I've racked up a lot of miles chasing down one of his hamburgers, and if luck allows me I will also order, pilfer, or right steal any sized portion of his beautifully fried chicken. Cornelius can cook. His lunch and dinner dishes always satisfy. There is no doubt, but does his expertise in the kitchen take eggs beyond the ordinary?

Yes.

I waited to visit the Sunrise Diner until I could find someone to go with as I wanted to sample more than one dish. I ordered what one would assume to be the most difficult dish, eggs Benedict and my companion ordered an omelet.

Hollandaise sauce is deliciously bright over poached eggs if it's cooked right. When it's cooked wrong it's either sour or flavorless. It can totally ruin or make the dish. With omelets, there are so many things that can go wrong; if the flavor combinations are off, if the ratio of filler to egg is wrong, or if the chemistry is off, your omelet will be nothing more than scrambled eggs held together by overcooked cheese.

Cornelius served two expertly timed and perfectly cooked egg dishes. I had the California Fresco Benedict. My first bite was almost entirely all spinach, but that was entirely my own fault. My second bite was excellent. The poached egg tasted nothing like the water it was cooked in. It wasn't rubbery or over salted. It's darn near the best set of poached eggs I've had all year. The spinach was cooked enough to offset some of the inherent bitterness, and the english muffin had its own covering of Hollandaise sauce. All the flavors were so well balanced and the whole dish was so good I almost finished it without offering my guest a bite.

The Western Omelet was excellent. It was fluffy without being oily, structurally sound without collapsing under the weight of the ham, onions, and peppers. The vegetables were fresh and flavorful. The smoked cheddar was neither overwhelming nor underrepresented. Both dishes were served with the standard hash browns which were not dripping with oil or butter. I usually don't eat the breakfast potatoes. I made an exception today because they were good.

The restaurant itself is brightly lit and clean. Most of the tables sit four people comfortably. There is two person settings options alongside the walls, and two four person counters flank the cash register. There is lottos off-street parking out back and it's easy to spot from the street. The service was brisk, coffee was served hot and refreshed regularly, and the house-made jam was bright, sweet, and fresh.

The serving sizes were generous without being overwhelming. The food was cooked cleanly and served neatly. Nothing about what I ate made me feel as if I was somehow mistreating my body, and I didn't leave feeling like I should fast for the rest of the day to stave off a coronary blockage. I left well fed and happy to have stopped in. Of course, the next time I stop in I'm definitely going to order the Sunrise Diner Burger, for old time's sake.

Winter Storm Harper: Akron

Man walking up Oakdale to Market St.

     The city of Akron had a plan in place for clearing streets of snow, which worked fine as long as complaints from citizens were pushed aside for the sake of the plan. Major streets were plowed first, then secondary streets. The problem with this plan became clearer and clearer as more and more people found themselves stuck on their streets, on bridges, in valleys, and on hills. It didn't matter if you were on foot, on a bike, car, or bus.

     On Saturday, when the storm was in full force, everyone was calm and understanding. We were told it was gong to be a big storm with huge amounts of snow being dumped right at our doorsteps. We the people did not panic. Our city government and street crews had just as much warning as we did. Most of us had bought extra groceries, bags of street salt, and had our snow shovels at the ready. We assumed our streets would be properly taken care of. We've dealt with storms like this before. We had full confidence in our city government. No one was worried about their ability to get to work come Monday morning.

     We were let down, but most of us believed it when we were told that street crews were doing all they could. In a way, they were. They were doing all they could to clear the streets that were in the plan for clearing streets. Unfortunately not very many streets seemed to be part of that plan.

     The streets where the majority of Akron residents live on were not plowed, some for two days. Half the streets in Akron were not plowed after three days. To add to the frustration of not being able to go to work or to school, of having to dig out ambulances, or having to shovel paths down city streets, or having to wait thirty minutes to an hour for a city bus, some residents had to watch snow trucks drive down their streets with plows raised up and salt spreaders turned off. Sometimes one part of a street would be plowed, but the remainder was left untouched. We felt duped.

     What good was it to maintain West Market Street if East Market Street was an iffy mess? What purpose does it serve to plow major roads if no one can reach them? Who made the strategic decision to keep all residential streets under a cover of snow and ice? Why were we told that everything was okay when it clearly wasn't okay? 

     We went from feeling disappointed to feeling angry when it became apparent to us that we were either being lied to or that the truth was being held from us. We were told to stop whining, to buy better vehicles, to grow up, to get a grip with reality because this is North East Ohio and snow happens, but we were not once told when we would see our streets cleared of snow and ice.

     Our city government has grown so thin skinned it has erased all transparency with this problem, opting for strategic tweets and Facebook posts. The 311 information line we were all funneled through was off line for most of us. The online version crashed. We had no other way of reaching out for help. We resorted to communicating our needs and frustrations, and sometimes our anger through the very same accounts the city used to assuage us and tell us that they were doing everything they could to dig us out.

     We were still trapped in our cars, waiting for the tow truck operators to dig themselves out of the snow. By the time a video of a temporary street employee throwing salt down cup by cup went viral, all pretense was gone. The majority of Akron residents knew their street was not going to be cleared, not under the plan the city was following. We laughed, made sarcastic comments, rolled our eyes and stopped believing anything we were told. 

     After three days of being immobilized, of having friends who lived on clearer streets chastising those living on lesser streets for criticizing and calling out their government, for being bad Akronites, after we perceived clear lines were being drawn around the Haves, while the Have-Nots watched them doing figurative wheelies on their clear streets, after spending hours and hours waiting for even one plow to show itself, we receives a soft reprimand from the city for laughing at the salt thrower, for pointing out how we used that video to express our view of the whole process.

     Some of us got really angry and lashed out, but most of us were over it. We had shoveled our way out of our neighborhoods, and out of every neighborhood we got stuck in on our way to work. We had to. Most of us can't afford to take a snow day off. Many of us would get fired for not showing up at work.

     If the Mayor's Office chooses to communicate with us through social media we have every right to respond to them through those channels. Using public forums allows for public viewing. We could not see the number of phone calls and emails that were sent to the city, but we could see and read the number of complaints on twitter and Facebook. We figured out the street snow removal plan was not working. and we said so. The Mayor works for us. City council members work for us. We are the customers. We needed straight answers and we got standard responses that contradicted what we were experiencing. 

     We did receive an apology, and an an explanation. Great, but it came at a time when it made no difference. The damage to our vehicles and our trust in the city was done. Many of us were too tired to even read it. It was long, and the print was small, and we had street drains to clear. In short, it was too little too late.

     To have the term "Mob Mentality" thrown at us by those who would defend the city's actions for voicing our grievances in public is tactical. It puts us in the wrong and makes our city government look like the victim. Apology notwithstanding. We've had enough.

     As citizens of the city of Akron we have a right to complain about city services that were not rendered. We have a right to be angry. We have a right to raise our voice, a right to be heard. We also have the right to speak up for the good job the street crews did following the city plan. We have the right to defend our city government. We have every right to speak our mind because as of today we don't live in a dictatorship or a totalitarian country.

  

Plow driver helping APS school bus stuck on Palisades Bridge, Thursday, 01/24/2019.

APS school bus stuck on bridge, Thursday, 01/24/2019.

Intersections: Artist Master Line and Space

     The new exhibit at the Akron Art Museum, Intersections: Artists Master Line and Space, is a lot like the giant, red, vinyl-coated polyester fabric sculpture by Jimmy Kuehnle that inflates and deflates in the lobby. Although quite static, it breathes and moves through your eyes. It is strangely familiar and comforting, and leaves you feeling happy, light hearted, and smiling at its enormous whimsicality.
     Each artist is given a room to fill. There are table-sized discs, glass tear drops, and chained bowling balls by Judy Pfaff hang from the walls and ceiling of one room. You can't walk past these pieces of art. You are compelled to look, to compare, and to imagine things that aren't there. The objects here are so complex it takes a while to figure out what it is you are looking at. You almost forget that there are other rooms to explore.

     Your sense of space is invaded, then set free as you transition to the next room. Large wooden sculptures and long pieces of hand-made paper in muted wood tones soothe your eyes. Your sense of familiarity returns, if a bit altered. Pfaff's surreal world makes you feel too big, Ursula Von Rydingsvard's room leaves you feeling small.

     As you make your way around a corner you find yourself suddenly alit. Your eyes are drawn up and your sense of touch is relegated to your eyes. The urge to float is strongest while looking up at Anne Lindberg's lines. Your eyes touch each line at the same time as it tries to make this specter of greens and blues look as solid as it should be. You see and don't see what is there and that is okay.

     The long, thin lines are the perfect transition into the next room where things are all smooth, soft, and surreal. Everything that John Newman has put out on the tables for you looks and feels familiar. There is a comfort in this room. You feel like you are walking through someone's melting dream. Your fingers itch to touch the smoothness of the metal, the roughness of the rocks, the fuzziness of the peach. As you inspect things closer you realize you don't really want to touch. There is something eerie about some of his pieces, you want to keep your hands firmly tucked into your pockets.

     Natalie Miebach brings you out of that state with her tinker-toy like inventions. Her slight obsession with weather is evident. Your eyes are busy following the ebb and flow of hurricanes like you would ride a roller coaster; up and down and around you go across weather charts, sheet music, and adverse weather conditions. You exit her room feeling both sad to leave it and happy to let it go.

     You have to pass through Newman's room to get to Fox's pieces. Try not to touch the fuzzy things as you walk through. You will be tempted.
     The same can be said of all the meticulously painted, cut, rolled, pasted, and corrugated things  Mark Fox has put together for us. His compulsion to draw turns into our desire to see everything that he has made. His self-described "failed paintings and drawings" are re-purposed as sculptures that at first look seem simple. His paint-drop circles seem so easy to recreate. Perhaps we could have made such things. A second, longer glance, reveals exactly how complicated and painstakingly difficult these creations would be to execute by most of us.

     Leaving the exhibit feels like exiting the fun-ride at the park. You immediately want to run to the end of the line and go another turn. I myself can hardly wait for Friday's opening party to tour all six rooms again, and again. It is that good.

The Public Opening for Intersections will be Friday, September 30th at 7:30 pm.

Intersections: Artists Master Lines and Space is organized by the Akron Art Museum. It is supported in part by awards from the Lehner Family Foundation, National Endowment for the Arts, The Elizabeth Firestone Graham Foundation, and the Ohio Arts Council, with special thanks to the Hilton Garden Inn- Akron.

The Akron Art Museum is located at One South High Street, on the corner with West Market St.
Gallery Hours are Wednesday through Sunday, 11 am- 5pm (paid admission) and Thursday, 11 am- 9 pm (free admission to the general public).
www.akronartmuseum.org
(330)376-9185

Judy Pfaff

Judy Pfaff

Judy Pfaff

Judy Pfaff

Ursula Von Rydingsvard

Ursula Von Rydingsvard

John Newman

Nathalie Miebach

Nathalie Miebach

Mark Fox

Mark Fox

What is Race, as define by society?

     What is the deciding factor on whether or not you are a "person of color"? At what point does one stop being "white"?  Am I enough of a minority to understand what racism is? To know what being discriminated against really feels like? I am of German decent. Some people look at me and assume I am not a person of color while others only see color, race, and perceived origin because I don't "look white".
     Maybe it's my eyes that define which racial group I should be cataloged with, or it is the color of my skin which isn't too dark or too light. What part of me signals to others that I am not "white"? I have never understood how people made that choice.
     When I was very young and living in Mexico, I was the minority. When I moved to the United States I was still the minority. Even when I am around people that look a lot like me I am still the minority. I am different. I accept that there isn't a large concentration of people that share my racial make up. Even in the small town where I was conceived there was only me. As far as I can tell I am a minority of one. I will always be perceived as being different.
     My children, if you follow that a fourth plus one fourth equal half, are mostly German. No one has volunteered to call my children German. The question they do get asked with some frequency is "Are you part Chinese?" Even with the assumption that they are not one hundred percent of anglo decent they aren't often treated as anything but "white" while I get treated as one hundred percent "not-white". Why?
     About five years ago my daughter came home from school quite upset. There had been a long running discussion on race and racism in one of her classes, and when she had ventured to give her opinion she was dismissed. She was told that she couldn't possibly understand what it meant to be a person of color because she was white.
     My daughter has never identified as being only German or only Chinese or only Mexican or only anything. Watching how people interacted with me, her mother, how they treated me unfairly or acted dismissive of me simply because of how I looked had left an indelible mark on her. She saw herself as being just like me, meaning that she grew up feeling as if she too was a minority. When I was slighted she felt slighted, when I was insulted she felt insulted. Being told that she couldn't possibly understand what it felt like to be discriminated against and thus shouldn't even try to voice her opinion on the subject was akin to a slap on the face, a very ethnically diverse face.
     Even more recently a friend of mine was called out for being "white" and thus incapable of understanding what racial diversity is all about. This is the same friend who grew up in a mostly Mexican-American neighborhood where the language of choice was Spanish. Even back then the very fact that she was "white" meant that she was automatically perceived as being elitist and aloof. Do her experiences give her enough credibility? Can she talk about diversity without others thinking that she is simply pandering to minorities?
     My step-brother, born to descendants of English/Scottish immigrants, suffered a broken arm during an altercation that was started over his hair. He had a head full of really tight and frizzy curls which someone mistook for permed hair made to look like an afro. It was his first week at a new school and he was beaten down because someone thought he was trying to "look black". After a year of dodging fists and death threats my step-brothers and sister had to be transferred to another school.
     I had a friend who was constantly made fun of for having "nappy hair." She was in fourth grade and the girls in school who looked like her made fun of her and excluded her from any social events for not straightening her hair. I often found her crying in the school bathroom. She would run a comb through her hair until her scalp hurt but that didn't change the texture at all. She was ten years old and people were already telling her that her natural state wasn't good enough. That looking like her family wasn't good enough. That her ethnic beauty wasn't good enough. Are those experiences enough for both of them to be able to say "I understand what it feels like to be discriminated against because of the color of my skin and the texture of my hair" without someone taking offense that it is a "white" man or a very young girl who speaks those words?
     What qualifies a person to be able to freely talk or write about diversity and discrimination without becoming the victims of vitriol? How dark does your skin need to be before you are recognized as a person of color? Who should be allowed to talk about discrimination and diversity? At what point does defending diversity cross the line into racism? Is it the name calling? Is calling someone "non-white" as acceptable as calling someone "black" or "white"? Is it even okay to use the phrase "person of color"?
     Of course, in a perfect world everyone should be allowed to talk about race and diversity. Everyone. The answer to healing a racial divide does not lie with one race or the other. It lies with all of us, no matter where our ancestors came from. It shouldn't matter what shade of dark or light your skin is, or if you are white or black or Asian or Native or whatever. It has been my experience that when people put their differences aside for the sake of community everyone starts to be treated as and acting like equals.

The Everest's Take on Mutton Stew: Nepali/Indian Cuisine Review

     I was bemoaning my access to really good Indian food when a friend suggested I try the Everest Restaurant, "a hole in-the-wall kind of place with really good ethnic food. I've heard they have a good mutton dish." The fact that mutton isn't exactly on everyone's menu and that it can be difficult to cook made me curious enough to try it out.
      The decor was simple, almost understated. I read somewhere that if a restaurant spends too much time and resources on making itself look good than the food might be lacking, thus when the decor is simple the food is bound to be excellent. While this is often true of larger places it isn't always so with smaller eateries. Sometimes the food is better than expected, sometimes the food matches the setting. Here at the Everest Restaurant I was pleasantly surprised to find myself surrounded by rich, savory food served piping hot and spiced just as I ordered it.
     When I asked for a cup of hot chai I was given the choice of having it serves sweetened or unsweetened. For me this alone was worth the trip inside. Chai is usually made by brewing black tea and spices, such as cardamom and cloves, in milk. It's my opinion that most places that serve chai in Akron serve it so sweet it is almost cloying. Having the option to try it unsweetened made my evening. It was rich, fragrant, and worthy of a second serving.

       I ordered the Mutton Thali as my friend had suggested, but asked for it to be prepared with the most moderate amount of spiciness, meaning I wanted it to be not too mild but not too hot. A Thali is usually a round tray of several small dishes served at once with copious amounts of rice. This particular dish was served with golden lentil soup, roti (a kind of flat bread), yellow saag with potatoes, rice and milk, and a mango pickle. Although this dish is traditionally eaten with one's hand, using small pieces of roti to scoop up bite-sized morsels, it was brought to the table with a fork and spoon. Instead of making do with the single roti that came with it I ordered some naan. There was enough soft bread in my one order for two persons to share.

     The pickle wasn't to my liking mostly because I didn't know how to eat it. Was I supposed to mix it in with my rice? Add it to one or all of the dishes? Eat it as is? I took a very small bite and then left it alone. The basmati rice was fragrant, the lentil soup was creamy and delicate, and the spiced rice and milk was delicious, but the Mutton soup was definitely the star of this dish. The sauce was aromatic and savory and the meat was tender and free of any gristle. One bite and I was already vested in finishing the dish off by myself, except I had to share some of it with my dinner companion. The spiciness level was spot on for me. My companion found the medium spice level to be almost too hot for him. This is a good example of how different individual palates can be.

     Not being one to leave after trying only one dish, and because I don't like to discriminate between full grown sheep and lambs, I also ordered the Lamb Korma at their highest level of spiciness. It was so good. The braised lamb was as tender as the mutton, but the velvety smoothness of the sauce was a welcomed treat. The cumin gave this dish an almost sweet taste which paired perfectly with the white rice.

     I didn't find it to be spicy hot at all, perhaps because the Thali had dulled my sense of taste. My companion swiped a napkin across his brow to highlight the fact that he did indeed find it spicy hot. Go figure. I suggested he spoon some rice and milk into his mouth to counter the burn. It helped a little.


    While the Thali enticed me to visit again the Korma guaranteed it. The wait staff was attentive and polite, and a peek through the window to the kitchen afforded me a view of clean serving counters and a tidy setup behind the closed door.
     Of course, when I come back I will have to ask them how to eat the mango pickle they serve here. Oh, and the fennel seeds offered at the register, you might be better off trying a smaller portion than what I took. The colored seeds taste better than the plain ones, and if you don't like fennel or the taste of black licorice don't try them.
The Everest Restaurant is located right outside Akron at 2033 State Road, Cuyahoga Falls. 234-706-6630, Open Tuesday through Sunday, Lunch 11 am-2:30 pm, Dinner 5-10 pm. They specialize in Nepali and Indian Cuisine and serve a lunchtime buffet.
https://everestrestaurant.net

 

 


 
     
     

Yoly's Akron; 18th, 19th, & 20th of April, 2016

This is how I see my neighborhood; expansive yet intimate, lively yet quiet, vibrant yet subdued.

Yes, at times it seems like you aren't welcomed here.

This town is full of attitude,

tempered with a touch of hunger for changing the status quo.

It is a cool mix of new and old, the inviting and the foreboding. 

It is an architectural wonder for the eyes.

Just don't feed the pigeons, although the pigeons will argue otherwise, they are fed well enough already.

We bridge bad weather with good company when we can, and however we can.

We may go a little overboard with the bristling personalities, but those are the people who will do the most for you, go the further for you, and take care of you without condition.

You can find beauty in everything here, but only if you are looking for it.

Akron is a city where we create art to stun and confuse, to make you wonder and make you want to play. We don't follow the crowds, we incite them. Here we make our own superheroes, forge them in our own image with our weaknesses as their folly and our strengths as their essence.

Akron is as sweet as you want it to be, and as hard as you make it for yourself.

Akron is transformation.

Akron is welcoming to those who chose to come here and swift to divest itself of anything that would make it seem as anything else.

We truly are a city of bridges, those you cross on foot and those you cross with a handshake.

The views are always worth stopping for.

Every streets leads to something wonderful, whether it's a view, a jazz joint, a plate full of hot food, or home.

Our best and brightest gems are not  baubles, they are our people.

Our knowledge isn't hidden in books, in Akron we write our own story.

We are eccentric and contradictory, but we are good people at heart.

Akronites care about their city like they care about their homes, they care about their neighbors like they care about family.

We don't encounter strangers when we walk down the street, we find new neighbors and future friends.

It may seem at times that there is no hope, no way through or onwards, but we try our hardest to take care of our own. "If I can't help you I will find someone who can" should be our motto.

We can be a little squirrely about things at times. We can get distracted by our visions, our goals, our muses, but we are creators. All the best creators have been a little nuts.

Akron, it's nature, it's nurture, it's home.

How do you see your Akron?