The Little Café That Could

Katalina looks back
 

When I first moved to Columbus 15 years ago, I thought I knew everything—at least when it came to food. I’d been recruited to Columbus for a creative marketing job and was relocating from New Orleans. My career had taken me there from Seattle by way of San Francisco. I had also lived in France during graduate school, so I had been fortunate enough to eat at some of the best restaurants and enjoy some of the best food in the world before I was 30.

I arrived in Columbus passionate about truly great food. It’s hard now to imagine the Columbus culinary landscape in 2004. At that time, there were only three local breweries, and if you wanted a “white tablecloth” meal, you could pretty much count your choices on two hands—and they actually had white tablecloths. Finding “farm-to-table” or organic food was more than a hunt.

I soon discovered Alana’s, Basi and Jeni’s. I assured my friends on the West Coast that the Midwest had good food in the same way you defend your family. Still, I missed the street burritos from The Mission in California and the home-cooked Southern food I had grown up eating.

So one day almost 10 years ago, I decided to do something about it. With a lot of chutzpah and not much else, I opened a café in the oldest gas station in Columbus. I called it “Katalina’s: The Little Café with Lots of Local Goodness.”

My first week in business, I met with one of the biggest food suppliers. I asked the rep if they had any local produce.

His response: “What’s that?”

I knew I was in trouble. But I knew I could do it. I’d been cooking at home almost daily since I was a little girl—following Julia Child’s recipes from Parade magazine at age 9. I’d also learned a thing or two when I’d lived in France. I’d assisted a countess’s cook each day to prepare le repas de nuit (in Arkansas, where I grew up, we called it “supper”).

I quickly learned that running a professional restaurant was a different beast but tried to have my hands everywhere. Once Katalina’s business fired up, I learned that a good line cook might be the most underrated job in the world.

I left the line and bulk prep cooking to the experts while I created and prepped recipes into the night, while my husband managed the daily operations. The first few years completely swept me away. My “real job” in marketing provided my meal ticket, but I’d race through my 9-to-5 labors to get back to my precious café. Perfecting the menu, experimenting with new recipes and food sources—creating a brand—was one of the most exciting and daunting times I’ve ever known. It almost killed me—true story, for another time and perhaps a good bottle of wine.

This was all before social media, but word soon got out about the food—thanks to some keen-eyed local journalists and passionate bloggers. Turns out, the rest of Columbus was really hungry as well. Hungry for local, homemade food. They also craved a casual, authentic environment.

Because I was running on a shoestring budget, Katalina’s could not have been more “casual” or “authentic.” The chalkboard menu signs, beverage crates and Mason jars that are now seemingly in every café became a signature of Katalina’s. Frankly, I couldn’t afford anything but flea market finds—but people loved it. After years of being a test market for chain restaurants, Columbus was ready for more unique cafés like mine, which were soon popping up everywhere.

Local vendors were simultaneously coming alive to this new specialty food movement. I found other purveyors at the North Market, including a once tiny spice vendor, North Market Spices run by Ben Walters. Early on, Katalina’s was influenced by Ben’s depth of knowledge about spice combinations across many cultures. We now use a proprietary blend he creates and sells in his shop—and we use Ben’s spices almost exclusively.

“Columbus now has one of the most thriving local food scenes in the country, and I am humbled to be a part of it. There are so many inspiring restaurants dedicated to local, organic food that it can be difficult to decide where to eat.”

One morning, my office assistant whispered to me, “Have you heard about the guy who’s roasting coffee in his garage?” Soon I was serving Jason Valentine’s Thunderkiss Coffee, a smallbatch coffee made from Central American coffee beans. He now makes a special blend, just for us.

I’d been searching for local chips to serve with my sandwiches, and found the answer at a local food event. I met Michelle Ajamian and Brandon Jaeger of Shagbark Seed & Mill. When I walked up to their table, it was as if angels sang, and a field of tall, lush (organic, heritage) wheat parted. There they sat, with their gorgeous assortment of grains, beans and, best of all, corn chips.

I reached out to Billie Erickson of Fowler’s Mill when I wanted quality local flour for Katalina’s Pancake Balls. I admire and respect her own story of female entrepreneurship and how at midlife she began running a business in a 100-year-old mill just outside of Cleveland.

Working with Cooper’s Mill over the years, which supplies the fruit butter for Katalina’s Original Pancake Balls and jam for other items, I reminisce about my mother and grandmother canning from their gardens each summer—and now I realize that Ohio shares more food traditions with my Southern heritage than any of the other states where I’ve lived.

As I learned about Ohio’s rich food heritage from these producers, whose breadth and depth of knowledge help both refine and broaden my original goals, I continue to learn from them.

Columbus now has one of the most thriving local food scenes in the country, and I am humbled to be a part of it. There are so many inspiring restaurants dedicated to local, organic food that it can be difficult to decide where to eat.

It’s a different city than when I arrived.

Ironically, Katalina’s might never have opened if I hadn’t been a little—make that a lot—naïve about all that goes into running a successful restaurant that syncs with that mission. As I’m opening my second location, I have more work—and learning— than ever to do. When it comes to the local culinary scene, I like to think we grew up together. Columbus changed me, for the better, and gave life to a little café with lots of local goodness in a city I’m so incredibly proud to call home.