Mohawk Memory

photo maker unknown

The Old Mohawk

      Restaurant

by

B.D. Adams ©2014

            Ah ... a comfortable, autumn evening. Nearly, 6:00pm. Cool, but not like the bite of winter. An eager time for a brisk walk to kick up fallen leaves on the sidewalks by my low-heeled Frye boots. My short hairstyle was tussled by the breeze, but the wrap-around cardigan I wore kept my petite frame fairly warm. The evening lights glowed to welcome, as I approached my destination.

            I was near The Old Mohawk, my favorite German Village restaurant in Columbus, Ohio. There were several restaurants in the Village, but The Mohawk was my favorite! Their fare boasted very tasteful German cuisine, specialty dishes and downhome delights! This was Thursday, so my mouth was set for home cooked meatloaf, green beans and mashed potatoes with their infamous dark brown, beef gravy. I could hardly keep my mouth from drooling.

This restaurant was a vintage establishment! It had been in existence since 1933. Originally, it was called Elk’s Tavern, owned by Myles Elk and was thought a Speakeasy during Prohibition. After Myles passed away, the restaurant had a few other long-term owners, with a few renovations, but never escaped the quaint, albeit tasteful beauty of the menu and the mood of German Village. With spirit, the restaurant continues to flourish.

Since I ventured to the restaurant fairly early, a table, the table I liked, awaited my presence. It was the one in the corner window, where I could sit to see the street on my left and see the expanse of the room inside. I liked to watch (wink). I was by myself, which was my occasional situation.

The easy eating, sixties variety music invited me to have a seat. There were no booths, only tables and food service at the antique bar. Tables could be pushed together for parties that might show up, but there were mostly the cozy table for two or the gathering of four. I felt those numbers were best for comfortable dining.

            Jack¹, a waiter (only two other wait-people), came to take my supper order. A very nice guy in his early thirties. His wife, Beth, was a research tech at the Ohio State University Hospital. Jack had had a car accident and had been injured very badly. He wasn’t able to drive now, but he was one great waiter! The tips I’d leave attested to that fact.

            “Let me guess,” Jack teased and held up his order pad. He had written ‘Meatloaf.’

            I smiled and said, “OK, smarty, what about dessert?” I laid my cardigan in the empty chair across from me.

            Jack scrutinized my eyes, and then said, “The Pie (Buckeye Millionaire Pie).” He smiled his sure smile.

            “Ah, my friend ... you’re wrong. A slice of German Chocolate Cake, please,” I corrected. “Uh, and not too thick. OK?” I grimaced slightly. I loved chocolate, but not at an overkill level.

            He nodded and noted the order. We both chuckled a bit, and then he asked, “Beer, for now?”

            I nodded. He went to do his job.

            Not crowded at present. Calm and relaxed. My long-sleeved turtle neck sweater made me feel cozy. The sun had dimmed more, the autumn leaves only fluttered in the faint breeze. The incandescent bulbs warmed up the view outside. So nice and warm inside. This was why I loved this table, to easily see what there was to see. I still marveled at the cobble/ brick streets that still exist. Rather hard on bicycles, but passable at any rate.  

Jack placed my draft beer in front of me, but had to attend some new customers ... we couldn’t casually kibitz. That was all right. I had had a busy day at the studio and just wanted some self-time.

            A commercial photographer, so I was. Not horribly busy all the time, but the days I was, I thanked the gods for The Mohawk. A familiar, uncomplicated, easy-to-smile type of place ... blessed with really great food, to boot! My stomach rumbled. It wanted its meatloaf.

            One interior treatment that I loved about the restaurant was the bared brick walls. With the tin-tiled ceiling, it whispered the history and sweet ambiance of The Mohawk! There was antique art, from the ‘20s on, without overdoing it. Like the food, all was quite tasteful.

            The types of folks who came here were as varied as the birds that hung around the telephone wires and trees, hopped on the sidewalks. For suppertime during the week, there would be the downtown types ... accountants, lawyers, etc. ... or folks who just wanted a different place to satisfy their hunger. There were those who just sat at the bar with their favorite libation. The drinking always seemed to be more in order rather than the sustaining life with solid food. That was their thing.

            I always observed the few men and women (together or separate) who seemed to be with the education vocation. They had newspapers, magazines, books or loose-leaf paper draped over their meals or drinks as they concentrated on whatever they were reading. Or they were at a four-table and began heavy debates of one subject or another! They either drank coffee, tea, wine or cognac, so I deduced. (Some day I’d ask about the cognac.) Their dress made me think they shopped for Ralph Lauren, casual with soft colors. They could be professors or high school teachers or retired scholars or none the above.

            Because of my vocation, I would write notes for myself on the paper napkins. This evening, the notes were the thoughts for our photo shoot tomorrow, for me and my boss², to remind him of certain matters.

Jack brought my meatloaf and I was so glad. The couple next to me could hear my stomach. It was being very rude! Jack used sign-language to ask if I wanted another beer. I nodded yes. I didn’t wait for the beer ... I began to devour!

photo maker unknown

            Oh, how to describe the taste of really good food? How do I love thee, meatloaf ... let me count the ways!! Never mind ... just eat!! However, must savor not just gobble. Jack brought my second beer.

The restaurant became more congested. I liked it, though. Activity and sound of happy people in a small, albeit comfortable café. Smile to the song of eating out!

A few acquaintances passed my table and made there greetings. Nice and short. A couple of single fellows noticed I dined singly, so they made gestures that I should become a couple with one of them. I smiled politely, but denied both. However, the one fellow ... uh, no. Not tonight. I’m busy tomorrow ... need a good night’s sleep.

I finished my meal very happily. Just the right amount ... not too much, not too little.

Jack brought my check and asked, “Gonna be here tomorrow?”

“Nope, not tomorrow. I have a big assignment tomorrow. I’ll be back again soon,” I answered with my relaxed smile. I so loved this place. Never wanted to wear out my welcome.

It was nighttime now. Lights beamed from The Mohawk, the street lights and the porches on the residential houses. It was a bit cooler now. Rather invigorating! The leaves were tickled by the breeze and played tag with my feet. All bundled with my cardigan, I enjoyed walking home to my vintage apartment on Frederick Street in German Village. I will come this way again soon.

If someone reads this and thinks this would be a fine restaurant to visit ... if you’re traveling to the mid-west ... please make a date to go to The Old Mohawk at 819 Mohawk St., in Columbus, OH 43206. You will not be disappointed! Cheers!!

¹Jack and Beth are fictitious names and characters for the story. Any resemblance of these characters to anyone alive or dead would be a coincidence.

               ²Reference to D.R. Goff, my employer at Quicksilver Studio.  Deceased January 2013.