Stereotypes are made to be broken... and conformed with. Kenny hails from the Dirty South, aka the Dirty Dirty or, simply, Atlanta. He ventured out here for a restart in life. What better place than a city linked mythologically to resurrection? Kenny has a penchant for all things creative. Art, music, homemade gin and tonics, architecture, writing and sweet tea are all important aspects of the world of Kenny Bump. You will catch him strolling Downtown for that evasive perfect meal, or to just to mingle with the peeps at a First Friday. If you want to know anything about the stereotypes of the South, the magnificence of grits or why sweet tea is a viable resource, then Kenny is your guy. He currently resides in the Garfield district.
Portland’s rests unassumingly on the corner of Portland Street and Central Avenue. You might drive right past it, but you would be missing out.
I could make this sandwich, and a tuna salad sandwich can be found elsewhere, but the one at the Urban Grocery and Wine Bar has its own specialness about it.
I’m a firm believer in the fact that every town needs a place that is cooler than most of its patrons. Phoenix can find that in That’s a Wrap.
I noticed a buzz about Phoenix Brew Party and, after perusing its nifty website, the beer snob in me decided it was a noble venture.
After waiting in a seemingly endless line at Matt’s Big Breakfast, I was quick to settle on the Chop & Chick, a succulent pork-and-egg combo plate.
I order the first thing that comes to mind: a pitcher of Pabst Blue Ribbon. Sure, you may scoff at the notion, but in this blogger’s humble opinion, Pabst is the best beer for your buck.
The blend of citrus in the Camparita is heavenly and seems to project my imagination toward an island getaway.
America’s Taco Shop claims to have the best carne asada in the Valley. Those are some big words for a little cantina-looking place, but I felt it needed to be addressed via my palate.
Perhaps what Phoenix needs is an epic menu item that could be talked about around campfires and whispered in school halls.
I had heard tale that a fine little establishment existed just up the road from Central and Camelback, dishing out some famous bruschetta and pouring fine wine late into the evening.