Hello, Columbus

Spend half an hour with a local historian—especially if he boasts the gift of gab (Cue in Ohio native Doug Motz, one-time owner of a gay bookstore and party-planner extraordinaire) and you become an instant insider in the city you’re visiting—in this case, Columbus: the state’s vibrant capitol.

“From the outset,” Doug instructs, “it was a planned city—a transportation hub with a great university. It depended on friendliness. It’s a blue bubble in a sea of red which celebrates an open gay lifestyle.”

I basked in that friendliness vibe at the iconic ’20-s style Hotel LeVeque, anchoring downtown’s main drag and overlooking its riverfront, paved with inviting walking paths. Case in point: the front-desk surprised me with coffee delivered to my room after I’d moaned about Starbucks’ closure on a Sunday night. Another evening, when starvation set in at 6 o’clock, long before my 8 PM dinner reservation, a gift dish of mac & cheese arrived. Later, Monica, the concierge, alerted me to a moving Holocaust Memorial on the grounds of the nearby State Capitol that I might otherwise have missed. The night I dined at The Keep—the hotel’s restaurant—with friends who had to rush to a theater performance, its host provided (gratis) an after-dinner drink and invited me to linger.

By morning, it’s off to the Worthington ‘hood, waving to the city’s namesake statue frozen mid-conquest on the capitol grounds as we sped by. Breakfast at Joya’s (you’ll spot it by the long line snaking down the sidewalk) celebrates the Bengali food of its owner, who left medical school, to his parents’ astonishment, to launch a career as a chef instead. It won him a James Beard nomination and me a heaping plate of Not Pad Thai—an addictively delicious tangle of rice noodles mined with char siu pork, then blanketed with an omelet and zingy chili crisp.

After peeks into the neighborhood’s sweet parade of indie shops, we sped to Hills Market, a gourmand’s treasury of elite purchases for your pantry, to meet Rezi and Sharareh Beyegan, a lesbian couple who fled their native Iran in 2013, moments before the police made good on their threat to kill them. Now they’re safe (and married) in welcoming Columbus, cooking their splendidly tender kebabs in their market kitchen called Charmy’s Persian Taste.

Got a taste for humor, too? You’ll find it at the Billy Ireland Cartoon Museum, on the Ohio U campus, where comic-strip godfather Milton Caniff, creator of the classic strip “Terry and the Pirates,” went to school. Not only can visitors follow the evolution of Caniff’s own work, complete with editor’s corrections, but those of cartoonists whose works collector Ireland amassed: View Pogo, Dick Tracy, Captain America, Peanuts—even the way-off-the-wall Mad Magazine collection. (Here’s one cartoon for you: A couple of Martians emerge from their flying saucer and greet a local: “No, we don’t need your leader. We just need gas.”

Laughed all the way to dinner. Tonight we enjoyed it at Guild House, a room of understated chic and superior service devised by local restaurateur Cameron Mitchell. This one’s a winner, starting with the slice of pink grapefruit on the rim of my Buffalo Trace cocktail spritzed with grapefruit juice. Do. Not. Miss the sweet potato rolls, no matter what your carb -counting conscience tries to tell you. Then proceed, perhaps, to the ricotta gnocchi tossed with fava beans, baby carrots and earthy mushrooms, a promise of spring. Proceed with sea bass in lobster broth mined with veggies and chili oil. Or the raisin-and-caper-clad salmon Romanesco. Or how about the pork couched with sour-apple cabbage and poached apricots? You get the idea: You can’t go wrong.

Think we could never eat again? Think again. Sunday brunch at Fox in the Snow in the gay-central German Village neighborhood, delivered us into the hands of a pastry maker from heaven before a visit to the National Veterans Memorial and Museum. It’s a moving journey through key moments in veterans’ lives via personal accounts as we follow a timeline designed to bridge the gap between us civilians and those who valiantly served their country.

We steered next to Parsons Avenue to poke into Two Dollar Radio, a bookstore-cum-coffeehouse launched by a feisty indie publisher to showcase “voices too loud to ignore,” including many LGBTQ and BIPOC writers with their vital messages.

From flights of books to flights of beer, and the place is Wolf’s Ridge Brewing Company. My trio of sips included Daybreak, a coffee-vanilla cream ale; Office Party, an Imperial pastry stout; and Top Shelf Dire Wolf, an Imperial stout, my fave.

Fortified, we steered back to German Village, all tidy bricks patrolled by ardent dog-walkers, to ring the bell at Keny Gallery, an elite private gallery in one of those dressed-for-success brick homes, where it represents often-overshadowed American women masters such as Alice Schille. We’ll see more of her later at the city’s Art Museum, along with works of local Black Outsider artist Eljah Pierce, whose paintings I’ll snatch up when I win the lottery. Duff Lindsay’s Lindsay Gallery, in the Short North stretch of town, also salutes another trove of Elijah’s bold, and personal carved, then painted works, along with more Outsider art at Insider trading prices. How about the black-on-white street scene composed, the artist indicates, of “spit and soot”?

Then it’s on to the Columbus Art Museum itself (free on Sundays), to revel in the works of still more Outsiders (the photography of Diane Arbus and Cindy Sherman, for example) as well as mighty mainstreamers, from Edward Hopper to Dale Chihuly; from Cezanne to Degas to Renoir and Monet.

Dinner in German Village’s classic standby, Barcelona, provided a largesse of tapas and paellas on the menu as well as unique entrees such as our plate’s composition of quick-seared scallops partnered with bits of bacon, mushrooms, baby limas, dates (the secret sauce at work), chilies and lots-lots-lots of cream.

Final day (sob!) before Delta’s nonstop home, starting with breakfast at Katerina’s Too to inhale her “world-famous” pancake batter balls, plus a hefty breakfast sandwich off her “Latin leaning” menu with its “Southern slant.” We spend that morning blending in with in-the-know locals, trolling the boulevards for diamonds on the rough set out as trash. My companion’s  find: a wrought-iron bistro table set, for free; mine, a snarky book on bad happenings in good operas. We next braked for a bricks-and-mortar thrifters’ paradise called Flower Child (find your velvet smoking jacket, sassy silk bow ties, kitchenware from the Forties).

“Goodbye Columbus,” intoned that 1969 film’s college football hero as he moved away after graduation. But look at all he missed! To say hello to Columbus, chart your stay by logging onto experiencecolumbus.com.

Sidebar: Gay Clubs Not to Miss

German Village (plus Short North) is the city’s gay magnet. Lesbians flock to the part of the city called Clintonville, anchored by the hangout named Slammer’s, where beer and pizza reign.

Axis parades as a dance club, packing the crowds for over a decade.

Club Diversity, famed for its martinis as well as a popular piano bar, boasts a chill and relaxing vibe.

AWOL carries through with its military theme, backed by karaoke nights.