Sugar Inc. masters sweets and savories alike.

For my second foray into the flavorful world of food writing, I sought a suitable establishment for a couple weeks before it occurred to me that I should introduce people to Sugar Inc. Cupcakes and Tea Salon, an eatery that has swiftly established itself as a favourite among my group of friends. Located in Historic Dublin, roughly cater-cornered from Jeni’s Ice Creams, the bakery-cum-teahouse is open from 11 a.m. to 9 p.m. Monday through Saturday (private parties only on Sunday). My friend and I visited on a Tuesday, shortly after the lunch rush had subsided, and greeted proprietress Ava Misseldine, who not only freshly bakes all the cupcakes each day, but also blends her own teas and is now branching out into traditional Hawaiian cuisine.

Suffice it to say that she’s a busy woman.

That didn’t stop her from sitting down with us, however, to chat and rest for a moment after the bustle of activity that had preceded our arrival — her dining room had just been full to capacity, though it is hard to imagine even crowds of hungry Dubliners disrupting the tranquility of Ava’s elegantly decorated salon. From the clean lines of natural-wood furniture to the clever napkin holders — designed like metal rocks weighing down stacks of sky blue paper that matches one lighthearted wall — each element contributes to a Zen-like minimalism that manages to convey precision without sacrificing warmth.

But, then, as a Hawaii-born chemical engineer turned self-named “head sweetress,” Misseldine is herself a charming combination of meticulousness and amiability. Her family’s recipes form the foundation for her creatively imagined cupcakes, made with organic ingredients supplied by local farmers, and her tea blends come from Red Bamboo Teas, a Hawaiian company that has been owned by her family for four generations. To eat at Sugar Inc. is to immerse yourself in the flavours and friendliness for which her home state is famed, transplanted as they are to a town in central Ohio.

Speaking of eating, our goal that day was to sample the newly added Luau Po’ Boy, made with pulled pork cooked in the traditional Hawaiian manner — wrapped in large leaves and steamed over smoldering wood at a low temperature overnight until fork-tender. This is the first of many traditional Hawaiian dishes Ava has planned for savory options — Hawaiian sweet bread and poi (a sort of thick porridge made from taro root) may also be joining the menu in the future, if local support and her workload allow.

My friend opted for the “deli-style” sandwich, in which the pork is complemented by mayonnaise, provolone and fresh, locally grown vegetables. This represents a careful balance of tastes and textures, no one ingredient overwhelming the others; moist pork, silky cheese, crisp baby spinach, sweet tomatoes and mildly spicy banana peppers deliciously meld, yet none of the flavours are lost in the resulting cohesion. Truly an excellent sandwich.

I chose the simpler barbecue version, trading vegetables for Ava’s homemade sauce, which lightly coated the chopped pork, but forgoing the sharp cheddar cheese that can accompany it. (I’m a purist when it comes to BBQ pulled pork.) The sauce, based on a family recipe, is tomato-based and sweet without being cloying, with a pleasant swath of spices and a hint of smokiness that emphasizes the subtle mesquite tones in the meat. In this application, the succulent texture of the pork can truly be appreciated by itself; juicy and rich but not unduly fatty, it rivals (if not surpasses) the pulled pork I enjoyed while living in North Carolina, where the famed “Carolina barbecue” is a regional specialty.

Both sandwiches come on freshly baked 8-inch French baguettes — their crisp, flaky crust giving way to a soft, chewy interior — and are served with kettle potato chips for $8; whether you decide on deli-style or BBQ, expect good food and a good portion of it.

No discussion of Sugar Inc. would be complete, however, without mentioning the cupcakes, which are immediately visible upon entering the bright, sunshine-bathed front room; the baked goods are proudly displayed in neatly constructed cases, each cupcake nestled in a precisely sized shallow depression bored directly into the wood. Ava always offers four more standard varieties spruced up with high-quality ingredients — Madagascar Bourbon Vanilla Cake or Dark Chocolate Cake with Vanilla Bean Silk or Dark Chocolate Silk — but also creates her own unique flavours each day, drawing inspiration from both local customs (e.g. Buckeye) and various cultural delicacies (e.g. Horchata). (As an interesting linguistic aside, “Madagascar Bourbon Vanilla” has nothing at all to do with whiskey, but is instead a specific variety of vanilla named for Bourbon Island, off the coast of Africa; it’s grown on the nearby island of Madagascar. Shame, though, isn’t it?)

On my last visit, she had Coconut Lime, Almond with Green Tea Matcha Silk, “Princess Cake” (lemon, orange and almond), and Buckeye (chocolate with peanut butter frosting), but the flavours change daily — some standouts that I’ve been fortunate enough to try are Guinness Spice, Red Hot Velvet (red velvet cake with cinnamon), Earl Grey, Tuscan Cantaloupe, Apple Cinnamon, Lavender, Blackberry Dark Chocolate, Mojito, and the aforementioned Horchata. No matter what flavour you get, the cupcakes themselves are delectable: moist and dense (but not too much so), with chunks of real fruit in both the cake itself and the silky, subtly sweet frosting that crowns it. Ava has also started offering gluten-free cupcakes, made with quinoa flour, for those with special dietary concerns.

The cupcakes come in two sizes — large for $3.75, or mini for $1.50 — and should be enjoyed as a sweet finish to your visit, along with some of Ava’s own tea blends, which can be ordered hot, iced or, in some cases, as a bubble tea (with tapioca pearls). I once tried an iced tea with jasmine and honeysuckle that brought me back to my childhood, when I used to suck the nectar out of honeysuckle flowers growing on our fence. Clean, delicate and refreshing, it was the perfect summertime drink. I look forward to trying still more flavours on subsequent visits — her Moroccan Mint (Chinese “Gunpowder” green tea with spearmint leaves) and rooibos (red tea) chai blends look especially tempting.

It is difficult to capture Sugar Inc. Cupcakes and Tea Salon in short — the sheer number of facets it embodies defies any brief summation — but its essence remains pure. Here is a place where fresh, organic ingredients complement flavorful ingenuity with a focus on integrity seldom found outside such small, independently owned businesses. With each new addition to her repertoire, Ava Misseldine shows that Sugar Inc. will continue to flourish under her guidance and her family’s culinary heritage. Make the trek to Old Dublin and visit this truly winsome spot — you’ll be grateful you did.

Sugar Inc. Cupcakes and Tea Salon

36 N. High St. // Dublin, OH 43017

P: (614) 389-3459 | Twitter: @AvaMisseldine

Old-world flavours abound at New India.

My first opportunity to recount my experiences at a restaurant, newly viewed through the more discriminating lenses of an aspiring food writer, arose when one of my friends — a well-traveled, culturally aware and food-minded young woman — recommended New India Restaurant to me as the best Indian food in Columbus. She had suggested that I try the lunch buffet, served from 11 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. during the week, which neatly suited my desire to sample a broad spectrum of dishes. Thus it was that I arrived at Bethel Center, a small strip mall in northern Columbus, in the early afternoon on a Thursday.

The restaurant’s exterior is unassuming in the drab, homogeneous manner of all strip malls, yet belies the authenticity of the experience awaiting its guests. Upon entering the tastefully dimmed interior, I was struck by its décor, which I’ve deemed “budget finery.” You can tell that none of the decorations are particularly expensive, but small touches of elegance abound — the tablecloths, though trapped underneath glass, are shot through with gold embroidery — and dark wooden paneling imparts a stately air reverently observed by the patrons’ hushed conversation. But décor is not the subject of this blog, and I was eager to dip into the fragrant curries beckoning to me from their heated trays, so I approached the quiet young woman acting, it seemed, as both hostess and server.

She guided me to a booth, poured me a glass of water, and asked if I’d like something to drink. I inquired whether she had any recommendations — I always make an effort to get suggestions from the staff, and as a result have enjoyed some treasures I may never have unearthed on my own — and she offered mango lassi as an option. As a cold, creamy yogurt-based beverage (here flavoured with sweetened mango pulp), lassi can subdue even the fiercest curries, and is thus an excellent choice to accompany Indian cuisine, particularly for those with palates sensitive to heavily spiced foods. New India’s version was delightful — thick and rich, the yogurt’s tartness tempered perfectly by sweet fruit. Further heartened about the upcoming meal, I wandered over to the buffet.

Ah, how I love Indian food — the building, often sweat-inducing heat; the surprisingly savory vegetarian dishes; the understated beauty of sauces in earth tones contrasted by vibrant reds and oranges. Before me was arrayed a smorgasbord of old and new friends alike, and I thrilled at the exoticism of the names alone (like “Aloo Baingan” and “Dal Makhani”), to say nothing of the complex, spice-laden aromas wafting up to greet me.

For my first plate, I took modest portions of Lamb Vindaloo, Tandoori Chicken, Saag Paneer, and Dal Makhani, along with basmati rice and two fried appetizers with which I was unfamiliar: Aloo Tikki and Chicken Pakora. The Vindaloo (chunks of lamb cooked in a spicy sauce), often a favourite of mine at Indian restaurants, did not disappoint here — intensely flavourful without being overwhelmingly spicy, redolent of garlic, with a hint of gaminess from the lamb, it stood out among the meat dishes. (As a neat linguistic tidbit, the name “Vindaloo” is actually derived from the Portuguese dish “Carne de Vinha d’ Alhos,” meaning “meat with wine and garlic,” which was brought to the Indian state of Goa and later made into a curry dish.)

The Tandoori Chicken (marinated in spiced yogurt and roasted in a cylindrical tandoor oven), easily identifiable by its vivid, almost unnatural red colour, was also excellent. The meat, still on the bone but tender to the point of falling off at the slightest prompting of my fork, tasted powerfully of chicken; I particularly enjoyed the slightly charred skin juxtaposed against the moist flesh. I’ve been told that this dish loses some of its appeal if not enjoyed freshly prepared, which I believe, but I was apparently lucky enough to catch it before it dried out. Thus ended the first of my carnivorous samplings.

My first two vegetable dishes offered contradictory experiences. I immensely enjoyed the Saag Paneer, or spinach cooked with an unaged cheese (similar to Greek feta in texture) indigenous to India. Anyone who thinks they don’t enjoy spinach should try this dish, as it may just convert them. Full-flavoured, with a healthy dose of meaty umami from the cheese, it seems almost too sumptuous to be vegetarian. Sadly, the Dal Makhani (lentils flavoured with spices and sautéed in cream) proved less inspiring, at least on this trip; I found them bland and watery, though what I sampled may have been the dregs just before they were replaced by a new batch from the kitchen. I intend to try this dish again on my next trip, in hopes that my initial impression was merely an unfortunate isolated incident.

The Aloo Tikki (small mashed potato patties, battered and deep-fried) reminded me of miniature, unspiced samosas without the peas to which I’m accustomed; though I enjoyed their texture, they were a bit bland without being dipped in something. Less successful still were the Chicken Pakora (chunks of chicken, also battered and deep-fried), which may have been overcooked, judging by their tough, dry consistency. Thankfully, the naan more than made up for these minor shortcomings — flaky, pleasantly chewy and slightly browned, the garlic- and spice-strewn flatbread was perfect for sopping up curries.

My second trip to the buffet rounded out my main courses and sides with Chicken Tikka Masala, Chicken Curry, Aloo Baingan, and the intriguingly named Nav Ratan Shahi Korma. The Chicken Curry was excellent, again offering strong flavour without being too hot. (I noticed that none of the dishes in the buffet was extremely spicy, which is likely by design to accommodate the Midwest palate.) I wish, however, that the sauce in the Chicken Tikka Masala could have permeated the meat a bit more, as opposed to being a separate flavour from the seemingly unadorned chicken. Despite being fond of spicy foods, I do enjoy mild, creamy sauces if they have the benefit of stewing with the meat.

I briefly considered my final vegetable dishes, both in shades of innocuous brown. Their Aloo Baingan (potatoes and eggplant) emphasized the silkiness of cooked eggplant through contrast with starchy, albeit still tender, potatoes; another vegetarian dish that could satisfy even the staunchest carnivore. The Nav Ratan Shahi Korma — “Nav Ratan,” or “Navratan,” means “Nine Jewels,” and refers to the number of grains and vegetables sautéed with fresh herbs and served with raisins and cashews in the dish — evoked poignant memories of my childhood. As a child, I enjoyed Indian cuisine at my friends’ houses during Diwali (“Festival of Lights”), and this was a flavour I hadn’t tasted in over a decade — vegetal, but balanced by cream and spice.

Though I had nearly gorged myself on that Indian feast, I couldn’t resist trying some of their dessert samplings, so Kheer, Mango Pudding, and Jalebi found their way onto a fourth plate. Kheer, or rice pudding, has a cooling effect after the meal similar to that of lassi, and I enjoyed the soft, supple texture of the grains for a moment before popping them between my teeth. The Mango Pudding, in which various fruits (largely pineapple in the sample I tried) were swimming, was tangy, slightly tropical, and overall delectable. I regret now that I didn’t have the presence of mind to capture a picture of my dessert, as Jalebi — small concentric rings of deep-fried batter, coloured in this case a subdued maroon, that have been soaked in honey — are difficult to describe adequately. Their flavour, too, is uncommon to the Western palate; I couldn’t place it at the time, except to know that I’d had it as a child, but later learned that it was likely saffron. In terms of texture, they were chewy, with a slight crunch from their caramelized sugar crust.

In a word — toothsome.

Thus ended an exceptionally enjoyable — and reasonable, weighing in at just under $10 for my meal and mango lassi, before tip — meal, which certainly does seem to be a contender for the best Indian food in Columbus. (That being said, I still look forward to trying other options to see how they compare.) Authentic food, polite (if quiet) service and low prices happily intermarry at New India Restaurant; those who already love Indian cuisine, or who are curious to try its masterful amalgam of curry, meat and vegetables, would be wise to visit.


New India Restaurant
5226 Bethel Center Mall

Columbus, OH 43220

(614) 442-7705

The beginning of a beautiful friendship.

After years of poring over cookbooks, cooking magazines, and books from prominent figures in the culinary field — that is to say, after steeping myself in the world of food writing — I've finally decided to marry my love of food with my love for writing. For the past few months, I've updated my Twitter with especially memorable meals or dishes, attempting to capture the essence of spectacular food in 140 characters or fewer. While I enjoy the challenge of expressing myself vividly, yet briefly, in such a limited medium, and shall continue to tweet about notable food I encounter, I'd also like to broaden my creative and culinary horizons (not to mention my character count) a bit.

This blog is the fruition of those desires.

I had worried that, in taking notes (mental or written) about my meals, in analysing them, I'd make the act of eating a cerebral process, instead of the visceral experience I'd enjoyed before. But while I was jotting down thoughts during my first blogged meal, I realised that, far from detracting from my enjoyment of the food, thinking about it more was actually increasing my sensory perception. Rather than simply ingesting absentmindedly while reading or talking to my friends, I was forced to pay attention to each nuance of flavour, each minor textural subtlety, so I could adequately describe the meal to an outside observer.

I look forward to casting this new, more critical eye on what I eat. During the process, I hope to become a more discriminating eater — able to discern flavours and depict them in broad swathes and delicate brushstrokes alike — as well as a more capable, more fluid writer.

Please, join me at the table. Mangia!