It was my birthday. The one when you enter the wrong side of your 50s. I didn’t feel like celebrating, but I didn’t feel like ignoring it, either.
My 82-year-old mother – who realized she was pregnant with me when she started feeling nauseous in the Egyptian wing of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1969 – insisted on a proper birthday dinner. After more than a half-century as her son, I did as I was told.
“Where do you want to go?” she asked, but nothing came to mind.
I wanted to try someplace new. But where haven’t I been?
Carlo & Johnny. I’ve never been to Carlo & Johnny.
Carlo & Johnny is a Jeff Ruby restaurant located in what looks like an old mansion in a huge parking lot in Montgomery. It falls somewhere between the Precinct and the flagship Ruby’s downtown in its extravagance. It’s quieter than both, a little less flashy.
In the 1930s, it was a place called the Fox & Crow, known for mobsters and gambling and ladies of the night. Scorsese, Soprano and the Rat Pack have since fostered a warm nostalgia for that era and softened its edges. But you might still fear the man walking toward your table is holding a tommy gun, even if he’s just an older gent heading to the restroom.
We were greeted in the restaurant’s lobby by Bawe Shinholster. If you don’t know Bawe, he’s Ruby’s director of guest relations and quality assurance (thanks, LinkedIn). Impressive job titles aside, he should be in the Cincinnati hospitality hall of fame. He’s the guy you want to see when you’re about to spend big money at a restaurant. He sets your mind at ease. He makes you feel special. And he’s maddeningly dapper.
Bawe sent out a negroni, heavy on the gin, as a birthday present. A strong negroni is my favorite classic cocktail, but Bawe knew that already. That’s what makes Bawe Bawe.
We were seated in a curved banquette upholstered in red leather. My mother sat across from me, and my daughter and wife, Amy, squeezed between us. Mom couldn’t stop staring at all of the amorous young couples surrounding us at other tables. “How do they have the money to eat like this?” she asked me later.
Halfway through my negroni, a Dean Martin song started playing and the nostalgia kicked into full gear.
“You know who this is?” I asked my 11-year-old daughter, who used to sing along with me to “Memories Are Made of This” when it was on frequent rotation on my Spotify list. She would keep the “sweet, sweet memoires you’ve given me” chorus going as I performed my best Dino crooning, “Don’t forget a small moonbeam. Fold it lightly with a dream.”
“Your dad is in his happy place,” Amy whispered to her.
A plate of oysters Rockefeller ($27 a half dozen) arrived, briny and cheesy and with a hit of bitter Pernod, followed by artichoke hearts ($22) smashed and fried before being topped with a sweet-sour pine nut agrodolce, whipped feta and Parmesan cheese.
I was leaning toward ordering lobster thermidor ($78) or chicken parmesan ($33), since both seemed worthy of a birthday celebration. Instead I went all out with an Australian wagyu steak ($120), plunking each bite into an accompanying ramekin of au poivre sauce. I enjoyed that pricey steak (thanks, Mom, for footing the bill) but I might have enjoyed the creamed spinach ($15) and truffled cream corn even more.
With its classic carrot cake and blackberry pie, homemade cheesecake and creme brulee ($9-$16), the dessert menu at Carlo & Johnny is now one of my favorites. Sure, you can go glitzy with the Rolex watch cake ($75) or the now famous Air Ruby, a life-sized Air Jordan in cake form that’s also $75. But all I needed was the classic butter pie ($14), served warm so its flavors of brown butter and cinnamon embrace you before bidding you goodnight.
As dinner ended and the gin from my second negroni cradled my sappy old brain, I took in the restaurant’s sconces and chandeliers, the velvet walls and Rat Pack songs. My mind traveled to the past and to the future. From my 82-year-old-mother to my 11-year-old daughter. To the Egyptian wing at the Met. To a romantic night out with Amy when we were younger. To the wrong side of my 50s. To the “sweet, sweet” memories that led up to this night.
Carlo & Johnny, 9769 Montgomery Road, Montgomery, 513-936-8600, jeffruby.com/carlo-johnny. Hours: 5-9 p.m. Monday-Thursday, 4:30-10 p.m. Friday, 4-10 p.m. Saturday, 4-9 p.m. Sunday.
This article originally appeared on Cincinnati Enquirer: I finally understand the allure of Jeff Ruby’s Carlo & Johnny
Reporting by Keith Pandolfi, Cincinnati Enquirer / Cincinnati Enquirer
USA TODAY Network via Reuters Connect
By Keith Pandolfi, Cincinnati Enquirer | USA TODAY Network
