Binderama60for60

Until I was 20, I never ate a piece of fish or a Brussels sprout, without a heavy dose of parental coercion. I once stayed at the kitchen table past Dad’s bedtime because I refused to eat something on my plate, maybe a tomato. As mad as he was, I think he admired my genetically-enriched obstinance.

Then something happened. It was either traveling or having an expense account or alcohol, probably all three. Anyway, by the time I was 25, I was slurping oysters and popping sushi like candy. To this day, though, I detest Brussels sprouts no matter how much butter you stew them in.

Mary and I are food enthusiasts; we loathe the term foodies. She was born into a grocery family in St. Louis, and we love to explore local markets whenever we can. She’s an excellent cook, I love to smoke and grill. We’re also avid restaurant patrons, which is easy (and expensive) in Scottsdale but more challenging 15 miles west of Mears, MI, where we spend our summers.

If we could bring it all together and open our own dream restaurant, these might be a few of our favorite dishes to feed the masses. To be sure, there is zero chance we are going to open a restaurant (we’re not good with people), so let’s just leave this here as our Dream Menu. Not a Brussels sprout in sight.

And our place would have a full bar.