Cleveland, OH - 1995.

I’m eight years old - hungry and impatient.  It’s mid-afternoon, and my grandfather has been sipping coffee and overseeing ribs and chicken in the backyard smoker since sunrise.  My grandmother is tending to the sides in the kitchen while family begins to arrive.  One day they’ll let me help with the process - that day is well worth the wait (and the food too, of course).

Cincinnati, OH - 2003.

The forest of trees covering our back deck provides some relief from the heat, but it’s hot nonetheless - made all the more so by my father lighting up the grill.  It’s the first time he’s shown me how to stack the wood and charcoal efficiently and build a proper fire.  I’ll pop upstairs from time to time to check on my stepmother working on the sides around the butcher block in the kitchen. If only I could be in two places at once.  

Winston-Salem, NC - 2008.

I’m living in a house just across the road from Wake Forest University.  A few friends just arrived back from the store with burgers, hot dogs, and beers.  There’s loud music playing, covering up various arguments about who is best suited to helm the grill.  I usually win, but we’re all just happy to be together - even if we don’t realize it at the time. 

Washington, DC - 2013. 

After months of working the salad and saute stations, I’m finally trusted to work the wood-fired grill.  I’m nervous and intimidated, but excited all the same.  It’s hot, and I burn myself frequently, but there are good people guiding me and pushing me through the fire - literally, and figuratively.    

Austin, TX - 2018.

My car blows a tire in La Grange, Texas - just over an hour outside Austin.  I’m on a solo road trip around the country and, with the sun setting, I change the tire as fast as I can to be on my way - only to realize my battery has died.  After calling for a successful jump, I ask what barbecue the mechanic would recommend on the way into the city.  A short time later, I have my first taste of true Texas BBQ - a serendipitous experience, spare tire and all.  

Cincinnati, OH - 2023.

I’m sketching out the design for a wood-fired hearth in the restaurant that I’m building - The Aperture.  I know that eventually it will come to life.  But for the time being, I’m simply grateful for the opportunity to put it on paper - and excited to one day, light it on fire, and see what comes of it. 

Walnut Hills, OH - 2026.

The Aperture is temporarily closed.  I’m sitting at my favorite table in the restaurant - Table 22 - trying to determine what’s next.  And slowly but surely I come to the realization that perhaps the answer has been there all along.

Reflecting on the past often leads to a better future.

The Aperture: Barbecue Edition

we’ll see you when we see you.

-Chef JAB