Despite a changing pizza marketplace, Donald “Buddy” LaRosa remains the king of Cincinnati pizza. After 57 years in the business, he still wears his crown with confidence and that iconic grin.
With controversies swirling over execution drugs and high profile statesmen disavowing the death penalty, there’s a storm brewing over capital punishment in Ohio. For Sister Alice Gerdeman and the families she serves, it looks like a break in the clouds.
The long-ago stadium referendum seemed like a win-win-win—shiny new stadiums, money for the schools, lower property taxes. But 15 years later, there’s only one winner.
The Xavier women’s basketball team has advanced to the Elite Eight of the NCAA tournament twice in program history, and Amy Waugh was on hand both times.
You love pizza. Always have. Ever since the days when you and your friends rode bikes up to the Montgomery LaRosa’s and plunked down your hard-earned grass cutting money for a medium pie, a plate of pizza bread, and a pitcher of Pepsi.
You can pray all you want to stay in the game; sometimes the answer is no.
Four people order four different meals, each with two courses—eight separate plates of food. You enjoy the synergy of wine with food, but there are a lot of contrasting flavors and textures—a creamy bisque, a bruschetta topped with woodsy roasted mushrooms and a baked egg, a cheddary risotto, and a salad of heirloom tomatoes—that will soon be dropped in front of you.
If Miss Havisham went through an Alice In Wonderland phase, the resulting parlor would look something like FB. Named after fictitious owner Frank Barron, the shadowy lounge is filled with oversized chairs, mirrors, clocks, and candelabras.
Dave Dixon’s home brews have won hundreds of awards and two gold medals from the American Homebrewers Association. We talked to the Kentucky native about why he does it, his worst beer, and what’s on tap at home.
I have gone through seasons of improper sandwich making. As a child, I was heavy on the cheese. As a teenager, too much bread. College years, condiments—dear God, the condiments. Today, I can finally make a consistently good sandwich.
Around these parts, it seems a Mexican restaurant opens up every week. And our Gringo expectations are pretty stereotypical: a mariachi MP3 playing, a dirt-wall color scheme, margaritas as big as your head, and food served on plates that are “muy hot senõr.” There’s nothing wrong with this. Just don’t kid yourself that it’s authentic. At Dinastia Latina the menu currently has items like fajitas, which are actually an American dish. But you can also get a cow’s tongue taco.