Five Outstanding Restaurant Memories of 2018

#1. My final meal at V's Cafe on 7th

First opened in 2015, V's Cafe was the brainchild of the Vonderhaar family, who are well-known in Cincinnati for their successful catering business. V's menu featured a sizeable and unique twist on sandwiches with daily lunch plate specials like pot roast with mashed potatoes, fish tacos, stuffed peppers and many other eclectic specials you just wouldn't find anywhere else downtown.

Not Another Club w/BBQ deviled eggs

I spent many a lunch at V's Cafe, and my favorite was the "Just Peachy" sandwich, with smoked, slow-cooked pulled pork topped with sliced peaches, citrus slaw and drizzled with a peach BBQ sauce. My other go-to sandwich was the "Not Another Club," with turkey, white cheddar cheese, maple espresso bacon, fresh greens and a red pepper aioli on a flaky croissant. Homemade soups and BBQ bacon deviled eggs made perfect side items, and everyone at V's was as friendly as can be.

When V's Cafe announced their final week, I deeply mourned their loss, but celebrated their three-year run with a final club sandwich, soup and tea. I will sorely miss this place.

#2. My first experience at Maize

Maize was originally supposed to be a collaboration between Arrechissimo's Javier Almeida and local entrepreneur Angel Batista, a long-time Arrechissimo fan. But something had apparently gone south with their partnership and they severed ties shortly before Maize was to open.

Asado Negro de Costilla de Res

Batista now exclusively runs the show, bringing the Venezuelan food he'd admired from Arrechissimo and pairing it with his own Puerto Rican influences. The result is a solid lineup of impressive dishes, not the least of which being the Asado Negro de Costilla de Res, an incredibly tender short rib roast, heirloom carrots and sorghum foam resting atop a perfectly round disk of Puerto Rican-style mofongo: a pickled, fried plantain mash mixed with garlic, fried pork and spices.

I'm sad Almedia and Batista couldn't continue their partnership, but I'm happy Venezuelan food is getting its due and can now be enjoyed at two wonderful area restaurants.

#3. My double cheeseburger at Sacred Beast

2018 was a super shitty year for me on a personal level. My sister died unexpectedly over the summer from breast cancer complications, the stock market faltered, everything about the state of our world was depressing and I got even more ominous news right before Christmas. When things seem to hit us from all sides, poking at our sense of comfort, self-worth and mortality, it's only natural to find solace in the foods from our childhood. Sacred Beast, a pricey, "upscale diner" whose owners seem oblivious to that phrase's contradictions, was an unlikely place to find such an item, and yet there it was.

When I stopped by once in a depressive funk shortly after I'd learned of my sister, ordering a single cheeseburger and a side of maple glazed pork belly strips, I firstly wasn't expecting to shell out $21 for lunch, including tip. Secondly, I wasn't expecting I'd like my meal as much as I did, even though the "single" was actually two beef patties with special sauce, onions and cheese on a not-so-sesame-seed bun. The thickness of the patties and the special sauce preparation were obvious nods to the Big Mac and, in that regard, it not only didn't disappoint, it elevated and enhanced all those memories as a kid spent eating cheeseburgers out of kid's meals, finally graduating to the quintessential fast-food sandwich just before puberty. Sacred Beast's burger lifted my spirits on that awful day, and I am thankful for that.

Cheeseburger

#4. Our charcuterie board at The Rhined

My girlfriend and I had decided to skip lunch and dinner so we could spend an afternoon at Findlay Market, piecing on various items we'd stumble upon at various booths and surrounding eateries. One of the most unexpectedly pleasant and delicious finds was The Rhined, a small, unassuming cheese, meat and wine shop just across the street from Findlay Market on Elm.

When it comes to meats and cheeses, I'm a simple man. I like stinky cheeses and cheap meats, having grown up on such upscale classics as pickle loaf and Oscar Mayer's bologna, fried in a pan with five slits to make it look like a shriveled, meaty star. I rarely order charcuterie boards because I'd never found the concept very compelling and, most importantly, I really don't do a good job of pronouncing the word, "charcuterie" and feel too self-conscious when I do.

Charcuterie Board

But the folks at The Rhined were super pleasant and put us well at ease. They made suggestions for the three cheeses we tried for our board, along with a lovely soppressata, toasty bread, fresh-ground mustard, dried fruit and nuts, pickled beans and carrots and a deliciously fruity jam. The board was satisfying, a lot of fun to assemble and paired well with our chilled bottle of water.

#5. The wonderful bread at Monk's Kitchen

Whenever I visit family in Beaufort, South Carolina, I head first to a little sandwich shop that's part of a tiny southern regional chain called, "Alvin Ord's." I would make this visit not only to relive all the wonderful sandwich memories, but because the round, airy bread is one of those hard-to-find original recipes that makes an instant connection.

Little did I know that the Southern chain also goes by the name, "Monk's Kitchen" in some regions of the country including, it would seem, in Harrison, Ohio, tucked in a tiny hole-in-the-wall out in the middle of nowhere, across from a Marathon station right off I-74.

Reuben on wheat

Signature sandwiches include "The Salvation," with cheddar cheese, mozzarella and parmesan, topped with ham, salami, "spiced luncheon meat," lettuce, tomatoes, onion and mustard. The round breads come in three sizes with a choice of white or whole wheat. My favorite is the medium-sized, whole wheat Reuben, with pastrami, sauerkraut, melted Swiss, mozzarella, parmesan, cheddar and thousand island dressing.

There's something magical about the sandwich's round shape and the way that layer of toasty, melted cheddar cheese seeps into the bread's airy nooks. Its round shape lends a more even distribution of ingredients: every bite yielded the same ratio of sauerkraut, pastrami and thousand island dressing.