Cedar Mediterranean Restaurant

I must talk to you about the Cedar Mediterranean Restaurant. At 746 Monroe Ave. In Rochester.

You know. Next to Hollywood Wine & Spirits. That place.

I see many of you have heard of it. I was in there Saturday with my folks, and I must say, business has picked up.

Do you like felafel?


A really good gyro?

This place.

The first time I went, I got the gyro. It’s not like any gyro you’ve had. For starters, it’s on a freshly-made pita.

That’s right. Cedar Mediterranean Restaurant makes its own pita.

The gyro is handily built. The lettuce. The veggies. The meat. The tzedziki! It is a beautiful sandwich and when you have one the only regret you might have is that maybe you should have tried the felafel.

Your intuition regarding that issue is correct.

The way I see it, felafel is like a hand of blackjack. Undercooked, it may be mooshy and gross (I have had felafel prepared this way at a chain restaurant here that rhymes with Feeta Fit). If it is overcooked, it may be dry and mealy. So, felafel is pretty unforgiving.

The fine chefs at Cedar Mediterranean Restaurant understand this. And, therefore, they land it perfectly.

I have never had such a good felafel pita. Again, it is a solidly-built sandwich with a melange of vegetables and sauce that will win your allegiance. It sure did mine. Sucker has me itching to get back and eat another one.

But don’t miss the hummus. It’s made the right way, unlike that junk you’re buying at Tops. They don’t skip on the sesame nor the lemon nor the fragrant olive oil. If you don’t get enough pita to go with this platter, that’s okay.

You’ll just have to lick the plate.

(Do a fork test before downing the olive garnish. It’s likely not pitted.)

I am here to tell you that Cedar Mediterranean Restaurant is my new favorite thing.

Did I mention the baklava to go?


In related news, look what I found. America’s Test Kitchen. Cast iron. Oh yeah.


A limerick for Rachel Barnhart, candidate for mayor, Rochester. By Aaron B. Pryor.

Uber is not a tuber
It’s a personal body mover
But Rachel is mad
Says the city’s a cad
And that Lovely Warren’s a goober.


The weird thing about this artistic statement I’ve made here is that I think Barnhart’s obsession with the Uber issue is weird, and I don’t see how it serves her well in her campaign.

I mean, there is a larger issue to concern one’s self with regarding something like Uber: What is the role of the sharing economy in our live and should it have a place? Is it worth diplacing hard-working cab drivers and bus drivers to expand that business to amateurs, who do not have to be licensed and regulated by a government entity?

I don’t know if Rachel Barnstorm is for or against Uber. You can bet your tank of gas you won’t get me into one of those cars. How about instead of squirting all over the place with nuance about conflicts of interest and stuff people can’t follow, you tell us if you are for bringing ride-sharing to Rochester or not?

That might be useful. All this other stuff is nonsense.

Pope Secola

Today I cast it out as such: “It’s official: I like this Pope.”

I’m not one to won over by a Pope. I am descended of Catholics but never took the wafer myself; let me tell you, it’s weird when visiting family out of town to be the only kid in the church to keep glued to the pew while the rest of the family goes up and experiences the miracle of transubstantiation. I’m thankful to my parents for keeping me out of that stream of effluent, however. It’s made me, how you say, sceptical of ongoing theocratic movements, one of which the Pope is one of the world’s most visible leaders.

But this guy. Likening man-made climate change to a sin! That should get some peoples’ attention, eh?


Boy. That went quickly.

One minute, you’re Kimberly and Beck, local morning drive radio stars and you’re calling transgender people “nutjobs.”

By 9 p.m., you’re suspended indefinitely.

I mean, the ink wasn’t even dry on the change.org petition.

I won’t reprint the comments here, though many seem to be transcribed on the petition. Most harmful was the notion that people in this boat are “nuts.” The genius Kimberly derived this idea because Rochester’s agreement to cover this area includes counseling.

I have news for you. Extensive psychological counseling is part of the transition process. More news for you, which might not actually be news for you as you sit at home in your jammies for the rest of the week: It is no longer okay to speak of this area as if it belongs on Jerry Springer.

This is evidenced nicely by this swift suspension. Well done, 98.9 The Buzz, a radio station I’ve never heard.

What Comes Around, I Guess

I saw the young man in the hallway at work in a Steelers coat and knit hat. I had to offer an editorial comment following this past weekend’s game.

“How about those Steelers,” I said to him.

“Yeah,” he said. “We’re comin’ around.”

I have praised my newly adopted hometown as being tolerant and, in fact, indifferent to one’s NFL affiliations. And I like being able to just say hey to another fan of the team that represents what I consider to be my ancestral home.

So when I returned to my apartment and realized I had left the groceries (you know. the wine and the triple sec.) in the car, it meant another trip across the street to my car. I loathed the notion of going back out in the cold in the night. But, you know. Because groceries.

Four gals, young and loud and self-absorbed as most are, were leaving the bar as I walked out, and one of them noticed loudly that our paths were converging. Loudly.

“We’re following the guy with the Steelers hat.” I laughed.

Then. “Go Steelers. NOT!”

I took my shortcut to the car. They walked around the block and took the stairs.

The guy in the Steelers hat knows a shortcut, you a-hole.


(Then I cooked an amazing pot of chicken and noodles.)

Good Morning Freedom

I hate to admit it, but: The contractors who woke me up this morning to install equipment that yesterday they told me they would not be able to install until the spring that should have been installed before I moved in a week ago did not see the nicest side of me.

Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate that my new apartment will have new windows and a new heating unit. What I cannot begin to fathom is that this work could not have been done before I moved in and began to feel settled.

Overall though I am enjoying my new space. I am adjusting to the new kitchen, which remarkably boasts less counter space and storage space than the previous arrangement. However, I happen to have scored a large walk-in closet and a larger though oddly narrow bathroom.

There will be one other unceremonious interruption of my day next week to replace the windows. Then, I hope, at long last I will be able to have a place to call home, unlike last year where I found out halfway into my lease that I’d be asked to leave shortly. It is difficult to develop creature comforts in a place you know you’ll be giving up shortly.

Hope this one lasts a while.

In other news that I find rather sad…

When I came to Rochester, I had no real prospects, didn’t know anyone, and I am not honestly good at or fond of job hunting. But I found Rochester Works, which at least gave me a place to go to get out of the house regularly. I attended workshops and eventually did a pre-interview there with my current employer. If it weren’t for Rochester Works, my job hunt would have been more difficult and I may never have found Sutherland.

As a result of the government shutdown, the N. Goodman Street office of Rochester Works will close and it will furlough 3/4 of its employees. I am utterly sad to see this development, and I fear that this closing may not be temporary. Rochester Works is a great resource in this city. This is a shame.

Thanks to a re-re-re-rewatching of a television program called “Breaking Bad,” I am now aware of an erstwhile rock and roll combo known as “Blue Mink.” Their song “Good Morning Freedom” is used in the episode called “Four Days Out.” Am not surprised to learn that it was written by Albert Hammond. I have downloaded their greatest hits collection at eMusic and am enjoying it.

‘Good Morning Freedom’ by Blue Mink

New AP Style Rule

Luke Russert should be referred to as “Tim Russert’s son” on first reference.

I Did Not Lose My Poor Meatball


Marinara Sauce from The Stinking Cookbook: From the Stinking Rose, a Garlic Restaurant

1/2 Cup Olive Oil
4 Medium Diced Onions
8 Cloves Minced Garlic
1 Bunch Chopped Fresh Parsley
1 Teaspoon Crushed Red Pepper
2 28 Ounce Cans of Tomatoes
2 Bay Leaves
2 Teaspoons Anise Seed

Heat oil in a large pot. Saute onions. Add garlic, parsley, red pepper and saute for two minutes. Add tomato, anise seed, bay leaves. Simmer for two hours.

(I added salt though it is not called for here.)

How you say, “pungent?”

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