Strange Victorian's, Strange Re-lease?
By David Lewis & Amy Fisher |
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In the old days, Greg Rowe would exchange bottle-rocket fire with the cobbler across the street. Now, the famed proprietor of Columbus' most bohemian hangout has moved on to bigger things; he hopes to one day find renewed restaurateur bliss in a farmer-oriented breakfast joint out in Lancaster.
"Ah, you know, twelve years was a long time . . . it's so f&*ked up, you gotta love it, though," said Rowe of his impending exit several months ago.
Is this the end of hippie paradise in Columbus?
Owner Andreas Kleinert serves up the "Mr. Gut Buster" breakfast platter in the recently remodeled cafe.
Photo: Christopher Atwood
"I don't really know what bohemian is. Is it hippie? Is it laid back? I don't know," said Andreas Kleinert, one of the new owners of the venerable cafe. "I don't want to have the d-bags hanging out here . . . I don't want them here. I want to keep the more peaceful and intimate atmosphere; I like it relaxed."
"The people who play music here now, like at the open mics we host, they all have something to say," said Kleinert proudly. "They don't live exactly how the television wants them to, or like the McDonald's says."
Native to Dattenln, near Dusseldorf in mid-western Germany, Kleinert is a fan of heavy metal (not surprisingly) and good old American country music (surprisingly), from Johnny Cash to Waylon Jennings, and especially that of Hank Williams III. As a result, the new Victorian's Midnight Cafe is one of very few places in the city where you can listen to "Crazed Country Rebel" as you eat your stack of pancakes (The Big Lebowski, $5.25).
Kleinert and his wife, Kristy Venrick, have rearranged many elements of the old cafe, and have taken considerable flack for it: the busted-ass tile floor is now clean hardwood, the booths are replaced by tables, and the graffiti in the restrooms, like many of the other walls, has been covered over with thick burgundy paint . . . a jarring transition for the old crowd. But their ideas might be exactly what Vic's needs in an economy that is less-than-favorable for the beatnik crowd. That same struggling economy is the one in which Kleinert and his wife decided to invest heavily in a coffee shop, and he is thrilled at the opportunity, and in making his own choices for the cafe.
"I did this because I like my own freedom, my own business like I had in Germany, where I had computer shops," said Kleinert, his accent thick as the schnitzel he plans to offer at the cafe.
In fact, the economy itself was one motivator for Kleinert, who thinks the consumer paradigm is shifting . . . favorably.
"I believe if you have a good price and a good product, then people will definitely appreciate it, in this throw-away society where you have throw-away products at throw-away prices," he asserted. "People are longing for quality at a reasonable price. They spent a ton of money on things that you don't actually get anything for, and they used credit cards, and they paid for interest, and didn't get anything for that money, either," lamented Kleinert.
"You want to be entertained, you want to be surrounded by cool people, and you want to get something for your money . . . and if you know there's one place you can go and get all that, than I think people will go there," he concluded.
- David S. Lewis
(Editor's Note: I have long been a patron of the cafe, and so I felt, for the sake of fairness, I would have to have a second opinion, especially on the food. I am no food writer, and my review would mostly be an enthusiastic cheer for gravy. Food writer Amy Fisher took a closer look at Vic's cuisine. See below.)
I ordered the "Mr. Gut Wrencher" ($8.95). The dish included free-range eggs, home fries, toast, ham, bacon, and sausage gravy. The eggs were perfectly cooked, yolks at the perfect ratio of firm-to-runny and ran heartily over my trio of pig. The yolk intensified the richness of the sausage gravy as they co-mingled in my plate. Underneath the spicy sausage, the crispy home fries added a firm texture to the dish. This diet-wrenching list of ingredients was placed on top of my wheat bread in the fashion of an open-faced sandwich, ensuring that no flavor was left behind. This dish is worth its price in cash and calories. The time spent waiting for my meal was longer than I would tolerate at most places - at first, I thought that I got my meal a half-hour after my dining partner because I looked too much like "the man" and they wanted to stick it to me. This kind of service seems like an intentional effort to keep out the narcs. I looked around the room at each table of patrons huddled close in conversation, and wondered which table was planning the revolution.
The nostalgia I feel for that mix of youthful arrogance and excessive amounts of cheap alcohol is perfectly captured by throwback dives like the Blue Danube, Hound Dogs Pizza, and Victorian's Midnight Cafe. So, I'm glad the new owners have maintained that character at Victorian's, for I would have been lost without the punching bag in the women's room. A complete upheaval would have entirely changed Victorian's raison d'etre. I was relieved to find that Victorian's fell neatly back into the rebel category after re-opening. This is the kind of place where the servers use phrases like "dip out" and lonely lip-weasel mustaches are cool - because they aren't cool.
Victorian's Midnight Cafe
251 W Fifth Ave.
(614) 299-2295
www.victoriansmidnightcafe.com
Originally Published: May 1, 2009
