Toby Goodshank Original Art 2025

Life with Chicken and Broccoli

Author: Jimmy

  • Day Off with my Boy

    Day Off with my Boy

    A day brought to you by Miss Lil, my sweet and beautiful mother. I remember our day-off-from-school tradition, Mom, running errands together, buying a book at our corner bookstore in Danbury right next to future Walmart. We would have lunch, talk, and simply be together. Those were our special days.

    James and I had our day and kept the tradition alive. We went to the mall, stopped at Round 1, played our video games and coin pushers, and then faced off in air hockey. I eked out a win, 7 to 6. He was annoyed, but come on, give a middle-aged dad something. 😊

    We wandered the mall afterward and grabbed coffee at Barnes & Noble. The smell of books brought me right back to those afternoons with you. I still have my laminated Waldenbooks gift card. My fantasy books back then were five dollars, and you were always happy to get me one.

    I went looking for an Ethiopian Bible, of course I did, but they didn’t have one. We kept walking. On Level One, James found a video game for the Switch. I asked if he would always remember this day. He said yes without hesitation.

    It’s hard sometimes, because as much as I want to, I’ve forgotten so much. You start to feel like you’re losing the person or that you didn’t pay enough attention. But it’s just the way of being human—to forget. I’ve come to trust that when I die, it will all return: the joyous, wonderful memories, every detail. So I don’t sweat it anymore.

    I always think of that scene at the end of A.I. when the boy finally gets to spend a perfect last day with his mother. It hits harder now than ever before. He just wanted that one sacred day where he was the beloved son, being together and basking in her light.

    We headed to Buffalo Wild Wings next. They seated us like cattle waiting at the trough. I get annoyed being treated that way and rage quietly, but I stayed put; it was fine. Our waitress was clearly fighting battles greater than my imagined societal rules, so I let it go. Fifteen quick wings before the movie—spicy garlic and our family staple, salt and vinegar dry rub. They forgot our veggies, but we got them in the end. I wasn’t about to forgo included accoutrements. I am my mother’s son.

    Then came our main event, Tron: Ares at the Southbury Movie Theater, the last great local cinema around. It’s a throwback to the golden age: quiet, clean, and no nonsense. The elderly man who takes the tickets will take them until his body fails.

    I was happy to see only a handful of people in the audience, and the seats were perfectly cozy. I said, “Aren’t these seats amazing compared to when I was a kid?” James smirked, “You mean when they were wooden seats?” “No,” I said, “I’m not that old.” He laughed and said it was something Mima once said, and I told him that made sense.

    Back then our theater seats were close and stiff, with no recline, no heat. We were practically on top of one another. You had to pick your spot carefully and pray there weren’t disruptive kids in the row behind you kicking you in the back.

    We expected a complete train wreck of a movie based on a few YouTube titles, but we didn’t watch them. As Frank Costanza would say, “I like to go in fresh!” And I did. It turned out to be a fun, surprising romp through the digital world brought to life by The Dude himself, Jeff Bridges, the spectral father of 80s neon creation.

    On the drive home, we talked about the movie. I’m always struck by how similarly we think. My son is a digital reflection of me, thankfully better in every way and still uniquely himself. People say you shouldn’t be a fan of your own children, but how could you not be? How can you not be in awe of God’s creation, our own slice of heaven on earth?

    Our task as parents is to raise them, but along the way, we are the ones transformed. In guiding them, we rediscover what it means to live fully.

    “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights.” — James 1:17

  • Diner Review: Goshen Plaza Diner – Goshen, NY

    Diner Review: Goshen Plaza Diner – Goshen, NY

    Our second outing to the Goshen Diner, which is actually the Goshen Plaza Diner even though it’s not in a plaza. Maybe that was the hopeful dream of its first proprietor—an empire of storefronts that never came to fruition. Our first trip here followed a demoralizing Frozen Ropes Baseball Tournament, where dismayed parents plotted a revolt against the head coach.

    This time it was just the three of us, reflecting on today’s game in the same tournament, which was going much better. By chance, we ended up at the same table. The booth on the left fit the table exactly, while the booth on the right stretched awkwardly far, as if built for a missing fourth diner. I sat there the first time, hunched sideways over my plate. That odd design, along with the faux wooden panel above us decorated with an American flag and perched eagle, gave the place its peculiar charm.

    The menu was classic diner fare with extras, the kind of list that makes you think of Pee-wee telling Dotty, “It’s a thing you wouldn’t understand… a thing you couldn’t understand.” Prices ran two or three dollars cheaper than other diners we’ve visited lately, which likely explained why the place was hopping on a Saturday night. We were surrounded by a rush of senior citizens, a kind of corralling of prescription-powered, hungry elderly looking to stretch their social security checks.

    Our waiter, a young man with a sunny attitude, seemed half-present and half already imagining a future where he’d escaped diner monotony. Still, he was attentive enough.

    I briefly stressed over some of the more unusual menu items but settled on my old reliable: the Farmer’s Omelet—yellow American cheese, veggies, bacon, sausage chunks, rye toast, coleslaw, home fries, and a decaf coffee.

    The service dragged with the crowd, and hunger set us on edge. Then, like a leprechaun popping out of a rainbow’s backside, our server appeared with the food. A few sides were missing, but my omelet and potatoes were excellent—flavorful enough to be memorable despite how often I order them.

    Across the table, my wife faced a crisis. No white toast. She always starts with toast dipped in over-easy eggs, and its absence forced her onto the pancakes instead. The anger monkeys were on her back, throwing things, and we were about to get hit. The fuse was short before all hell broke loose. I buried myself in my plate, silently praying the bread would appear. Fortunately, it arrived in time, and peace was restored.

    In the end, the experience was pleasant. We ate, we talked baseball, and we absorbed the diner’s rhythms. At six o’clock the place was packed; by seven it had emptied to only a few tables. The turnover was so fast it was almost invisible—efficient, seamless, like the diner itself. As we left, we noticed they were voted Best Diner in 2023 and 2024, and if they keep the coffee hot and the toast coming, I don’t see anyone stealing that crown.

    Final Verdict 7.55/10

  • Remembering Pocmont

    Remembering Pocmont

    Driving to Kalahari this Sunday with my brother and son, we took an unexpected diversion and ended up going down memory lane on Route 209 South. Going to the Poconos is a special part of our family history. For my parents, it was their destination for a romantic honeymoon-style escape at places like Cove Haven and Paradise Stream. They were “Forever Lovers,” VIP members from long ago. They always spoke fondly of those resorts and their time there, saying how quickly the years had passed and how the places just weren’t what they used to be.

    Before everyone had bigger ambitions, driving two hours into the wilderness was the vacation, especially for city people. Back then you went either to the mountains or to the shore. The idea of taking a plane for a getaway was a radical departure from their modest upbringing and surroundings.

    Pocmont became another special place for us. Once my mother grew comfortable with the area and the drive, she would find a weekend, or more often several weekdays, to take advantage of better prices and bring my brother and me.

    Pocmont Lodge was one of those classic old-school Pocono resorts that had a bit of everything rolled into one. Families came in the summer for a week, parked the car, and never had to leave the property. It was a kind of limited Dirty Dancing experience, with enough activities and entertainment to fill every day.

    The food setup was classic resort dining hall style, with buffets and communal seating. The atmosphere was family-friendly but still appealing to couples on a weekend escape. I remember we had the same server for the whole trip, and we’d quickly become best friends with them. They would sneak us extra dinner rolls, bring more drinks, or even slip my mom another entrée that she would stash away in her Mary Poppins bag for her growing boys. It became an epic doggy bag for a dog who was never there.

    The campus in Bushkill was sprawling, with a lodge, conference facilities, and plenty of outdoor activities. Guests could enjoy indoor and outdoor pools, tennis courts, shuffleboard, and golf. In winter there was skiing nearby, and in summer there were organized games and entertainment. At night we would go to the live shows: cabaret-style performances, music, and comedy. Danny and I even played bocce ball with the Italian men and somehow won a weekly tournament one year, much to their surprise.

    Most of our days were spent playing ping pong in the arcade room. Ping pong is our family sport, if a family can have a sport. My mom was our teacher; she learned and played as a child at one of the city’s summer camps. We had a table at home eventually, but before that, Pocmont was where we practiced for hours, trying to beat one another on that resort table.

    Those weekends at Pocmont were our special trio getaways. It was all my mom. She worked hard to make those trips possible, saving her twenties, fifties, and hundreds. She put her own touch on every detail. The resort was fun, and the game room with its ping pong table was our anchor.

    I loved that time with Danny and my mom. The warmth, love, and adventure of those days still course through my spirit. I didn’t realize until today that our trip was an unspoken homage to our past. It was part of that unknown reason we have always been drawn back to this area. To revisit the ghosts of a well-lived childhood, filled with blessings and love. A love note to my mother for all that she did for us, and a way to keep her spirit alive through our commitment to each other and the next generation.

  • Epic Universe Part 3 – The Finale

    Epic Universe Part 3 – The Finale

    After our relaxing meal, crisscrossing back to Super Mario, we made our way out of Donkey Kong Country and into the Mushroom Kingdom. Our destination was Mario Kart Racing. This game is a favorite for both of us, and we are equally competitive against the AI and each other. We decided to use our Express Pass here to cut down on the wait.

    The inside of the ride and queue were excellent, full of detail and excitement. But the ride itself was a disappointment. The augmented reality glasses are a neat feature, but they do not succeed at immersing you in the race. The speed is painfully slow, one of the slowest in the park, and no amount of screens or AR could make up for that. I never felt like we were really moving or racing anyone.

    I had been excited about the idea of collecting power-ups, but the ride just gave you an endless supply of turtle shells. I ended up spamming them into nothing. Halfway through I lost interest and just casually tossed shells and spun the wheel without caring much. The whole thing felt more like a Disney water ride than a Universal attraction, which is the opposite of what Universal usually delivers.

    Our last stop in Mushroom Kingdom was Yoshi’s Ride, which was a big nothing. It is basically a slow loop around the area for younger kids. The highlight is seeing the land from above, but otherwise it is simple and forgettable. The colored eggs on my kart did not add much, and I kept wishing they had included some interior cut scenes or more surprises. For me, this ride needs a serious boost. I had expected Mario Kart to be the standout, but the real champ of the day was still the Mine Karts.

    From there we returned to the How to Train Your Dragon region for some nighttime rides, the Wing Gliders and the Pyre Fire Boats. The water ride was actually kind of fun. It reminded me of a half-dream memory of combining American Gladiators with a water ride, blasting other boats with water cannons. The real joy was soaking other riders and watching them get frazzled, heated, and then burst out laughing. To be fair, those spinning wooden wheels that turn when you soak them did feel like a last-minute idea that somehow made it through management.

    As the sun set, we strolled back through all the lands again, starting with the Ministry of Magic in Paris. This time we slowed down, really taking in the details, the atmosphere, and of course another butterbeer. We ended up back in Darkmoor for our third and final ride of the day on our favorite attraction, Monsters Unchained.

    The last ride of the night was the Constellation Carousel, glowing under the stars. It was a calm and fitting end to an epic day. I did not ride, it was enough for me to watch my son circle slowly under the stars, completing his list of every ride in the park. Meanwhile, I was still recovering from my final, bruising ride on the Stardust Racers. 

    I try hard to record these memories deeply in my mind, carving grooves that last a lifetime. This was one of those adventures that will last. I am so blessed, lucky, and grateful for this time together. It is a fleeting window, the teenage years before driving at sixteen, those rare years when everything still feels possible before responsibility takes over.   By the time we walked out, the park was quiet and glowing. We had conquered kingdoms, battled monsters, raced through galaxies, and sailed dragon skies. It felt like the closing of an epic quest, one that will always live in our story.

  • Epic Universe Part 2 – The Middle

    Epic Universe Part 2 – The Middle

    Stepping out of the warp pipe into the Mushroom Kingdom, the day truly began to level up. What had started as a long stretch of lines and heat was suddenly transformed into something electric. The colors, sounds, and movement around us made it feel like we had stepped into the game itself. For us, this wasn’t just another attraction—it was personal. Video game collecting has been part of our bond since the beginning, starting with an original NES we bought on eBay with Super Mario Bros. and Duck Hunt.

    The layout felt like a labyrinth, but I didn’t have to worry about directions. My son was a professional guide, already familiar with every turn from months of watching videos.

    The Donkey Kong Mine Cart had a posted wait time of 45 minutes, with the line stretching back to the entrance. The single-rider line looked empty, so we made the executive call to try it. Our thinking was that we’d knock out two of the three non–Express Pass rides early. It turned out to be a mistake. Because the vehicles seat two, single riders only get pulled in when there’s an odd-numbered party. We ended up waiting just over 45 minutes. The worst part was the animatronic Cranky Kong repeating the same line for the entire time: “Noisy Nincompoops.” By the end, that phrase was burned into my brain.

    I wasn’t expecting much from Donkey Kong, but it surprised me. Looking down, the track makes no sense, which makes the ride fun and exhilarating. It’s a mid-level coaster with plenty of flair, and when we got off, we both laughed and said the same thing: that was way better than expected.

    Leaving the Mushroom Kingdom behind, we entered the Monster area, Dark Universe. It was midday and the sun was blazing, but the land still pulled us in with swirling mist and eerie details at every turn.

    We went straight to Monsters Unchained: The Frankenstein Experiment. The first time we used our Express Pass, but we came back twice more to ride it again in the regular line. This was our ride, our jam, and in our opinion the best ride in the park. From the queue to the artwork and music, the immersion is on another level. I thought the IP might feel tired, but Universal gave it real respect and delivered for both longtime fans and first-timers. The ride is continuous like Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey, so the line moves quickly. Once inside, it’s pure brilliance. The graphics set a new standard, and the animatronics even surpass Disney. It’s an absolute triumph.

    After that, we saved Curse of the Werewolf for later. It’s a fine little coaster, but short. I usually get dizzy with spinning, but this one was more than manageable.

    Next was Stardust Racers, Universal’s homage to the legendary Dueling Dragons. I’d always regretted missing it, so this felt like redemption. Two coasters race side by side, dipping and weaving with breathtaking speed. We rode the right side first, then came back at night for the left. Both were incredible, but racing under the lights at night was unforgettable.

    From there we went to How to Train Your Dragon: Isle of Berk. By then we were hungry. We passed on the famous Mac and Cheese Cones at Spit Fyre Grill—the heat made them less appealing—and went for bowls instead. My son had Stoick’s Steak Bowl and I had Valka’s Vegan Bowl. Both were tasty and surprisingly good for quick service.

    By about 4:30 or 5 p.m., we had completed nearly every ride. Ready for another meal and a break, we ducked into the Oak and Star Tavern. We found a cozy booth for two, ordered slow-smoked brisket and BBQ jackfruit sandwiches, and enjoyed the air conditioning. The food hit the spot, but the real gift was sitting down and catching our breath.

    I was fading, but my son stayed strong. I asked if finishing everything meant we could leave a little early. He just said NO. That settled it—we were staying to see the park in all its glory, both day and night.

  • Death of Charlie Kirk

    Death of Charlie Kirk

    In American History X, Edward Furlong’s character says, “It’s always good to end a paper with a quote. He says someone else has already said it best. So if you can’t top it, steal from them and go out strong.”

    That line led me to think of Michael Scott in The Office when he says, “Well, this is gonna hurt like a motherfucker.”

    The visceral feel of a deep hurt encapsulated my entire being. I wasn’t able to do much yesterday after I heard the initial news. I had to go to a meeting and when I returned home, I learned that he had succumbed to his injuries and died.

    I saw the actual shot, which a reporter described as something you would see if they had created a movie about an assassination—the textbook image of a kill shot.

    And just like the uncontrolled flow of blood from his neck, my body lost its ability to cope and I wept. Tears poured gently down my face.

    My family was understanding, but not completely. They couldn’t fully grasp why their father was so deeply hurt, affected, and cut by this tragedy.

    I’ve had to sit down and think about why this death has shaken me so greatly. I was a fan of Charlie Kirk. I appreciated his viewpoint, his faith, his fortitude, and his courage to debate. How many of us, when we hold a viewpoint, say nothing? How many of us cower in fear of the mob, of loss, of financial blowback that could threaten our livelihoods?

    He was a real-life Alex P. Keaton from Family Ties: the young upstart who believed in Ronald Reagan, freedom, capitalism, American greatness, and a great big beautiful tomorrow.

    When I went on social media, I saw another side: people who were happy, joyous, even celebrating. The chickens coming home to roost. The gleeful nods of those who felt that a cosmic wave of justice had delivered its just desserts.

    It reminded me of another quote from Goodfellas. Before Joe Pesci’s character shoots Spider, he’s mocked and someone asks, “What is the world coming to?” After shooting him dead, he answers chillingly, “That’s what the fuck the world is coming to.”

    That’s where we are now. We are not able to communicate. We are tribal. We are animals. We objectify, dehumanize, and then kill one another.

    Charlie knew how dangerous a lack of dialogue could be. He once said, “When people stop talking, really bad stuff starts. When marriages stop talking, divorce happens. When civilization stops talking, civil war ensues.”

    He made his life about speaking up and speaking out. Going to campuses and engaging the youth of America in dialogue and debate.

    He had a viewpoint and an opinion.

    It’s not just that he was killed—that cut deeply enough. It was the absolute joy people expressed in his death. The frenzied glee of those salivating at the demise of a human being, of a husband and father.

    Social media is filled with one-line justifications for any heinous act. The excuses for their jubilation were absurd: Didn’t he say this? Didn’t he support that? And the most damning, his statement:

    “I think it’s worth to have a cost of, unfortunately, some gun deaths every single year so that we can have the Second Amendment to protect our other God-given rights.”

    Yes, he did say that freedom has a cost—a cost that he ironically had to pay himself.

    But where is the humanity? Where is the empathy? Why can’t we accept that people can hold different opinions? Why not ask why they believe what they believe instead of screaming at them, hitting them, or murdering them?

    I am angry. Angry because I can’t fully articulate. I am tired of being reasonable and level-headed. Inside there is just a monster of pure emotion, rage searching for release. Take a breath, you know better.

    Justice? There is no justice. Not because someone won’t be caught, punished, or even executed. There is no justice because you cannot undo what has been done. You cannot bring this young man back. His wife and kids will never see their father or feel his embrace again. He cannot be replaced with like kind or quality. He was special, unique, one of a kind. President Trump called him “even Legendary, Charlie Kirk.” And we know that legends never die.

    When asked on a podcast how he wanted to be remembered, Charlie responded:

    “I wanna be remembered for courage, for my faith. That would be the most important thing. The most important thing is my faith in my life.”

    So now, as a new day begins, we still feel the loss. The tears still come. But I also feel the weight of his words. In the final scene of Spartacus, as the hero is silenced on the cross, his men stand and shout, “I’m Spartacus!” They refuse to let his mission die with him.

    Maybe the way forward is not just to grieve his death, but to take up that mission. If Charlie’s voice is silenced, then ours must grow louder.

    I am Charlie Kirk.

  • Epic Universe Part 1 – The Beginning

    Epic Universe Part 1 – The Beginning

    This was the main point of the trip, a 14-day pass with just one day reserved for Epic Universe. My son had been preparing for this since the moment he found out we were going, watching an endless stream of YouTube videos from creators who make it their job to share every detail of how to do the park right.

    We were told Wednesday was the best day to go. It turned out to be one of the busiest. I’m convinced it was because everyone else was watching the same recommendations. Later we learned it was also the last day of summer break for Florida kids, which explained a lot.

    We woke at 7:00 a.m., almost like a travel day. The night before, we had booked a car service for the short 2.8-mile ride to the park, which cost $25 with tip. That expense was nothing compared to the $500 I had spent on Express Passes. These allowed us to skip the line once on 8 of the 11 attractions. If we hadn’t used them, I could have asked for a refund, but I knew better. My son knew better too, teasing me that there was no chance I’d ever stand in a line that long.

    We were dressed and ready and arrived at 8:15 a.m. to join the initial line before the 9:00 opening. My son wanted us there early so we could hit the rides quickly once inside. He was right. This would be a day of lines. One kid later humorously muttered, “Epic Universe, more like Epic Lines.” By 8:20 we were already waiting in the sun, that relentless Florida sun that hunts you down. At 8:30 I was sweating and I knew this was going to be a long one. The day would stretch into 14 hours.

    The staff did a good job raising spirits with countdowns and encouragement. When the security gates opened, we were moved forward but then held again at the ticket checkpoints. Eventually we were corralled into two groups, each pointed toward one side of the park. Our target was the Harry Potter Ministry of Magic ride, the new flagship attraction. This was the crème de la crème, the Cadillac of rides for the park. From watching the app, we knew it was always going to have a long wait and that it broke down often, so it had to be first.

    My son, quick and athletic, made his way halfway up in the pack while I was the big old lumbering dad on the side, trying to keep pace with families and kids sprinting forward. By the time we reached the Ministry, I was several rows behind. Thankfully, he gave up his hard-earned position and waited for me so we could continue together. Once inside, we were funneled into yet another queue, the last one before the ride itself.

    The silver lining was that we were in a good position and the sweet AC gave us relief. By then it was 9:15 a.m. and the ride wouldn’t open until 10:00. It felt like waiting in several lines just to avoid waiting in line. Still, the atmosphere carried that first-day-of-school energy. Everyone was buzzing, and the excitement was contagious. We sat, walked, and waited with our new-found line friends eagerly anticipating and taking in all the queue aesthetics we could handle.

    At 10:05 we were finally on the ride. It was incredible, as most Universal rides are, but it wasn’t quite the earth-shattering experience the hype had led us to expect. We both felt like there should have been more—bigger thrills, something novel, an unexpected twist to earn all that buzz. Unfazed and happy to check off the big ride we joyfully continued onward, not knowing that wow moment would come later with another ride.

    After leaving the Ministry, we walked through the Parisian area. The whole park was stunning, with every section and portal pulling you into its own fantasy setting. When you look up, you see the buildings towering, layered with detail. Every corner seemed to hold hidden Easter eggs, honoring the original material while letting the designers and engineers leave their own mark.

    Our next destination was one of the most anticipated rides of the day. The Super Mario portal was something special for us. Video game collecting has been part of our bond since the beginning of our adventures together, so this was more than just another attraction. Watching my son step into that warp pipe and emerge in the Mushroom Kingdom was a moment I’ll never forget. Suddenly, we were surrounded by the best pieces of Super Mario Brothers brought to life.

    This is where Part Two of our day begins, and where things really started to warp to the next level.

  • Restaurant Review: Mythos – Universal Studios Islands of Adventure

    Restaurant Review: Mythos – Universal Studios Islands of Adventure

    Mythos claims the title of “Best Theme Park Restaurant in the World,” a banner proudly draped across the carved stone mountain that houses its massive Greek god heads. A beautifully cascading waterfall guards the magic inside, and honestly, I don’t disagree. Mythos isn’t just good for a theme park restaurant; it’s one of my favorite dining experiences anywhere. For me, it’s the pimpest, flyest, hardcore, gangsta-ass theme park restaurant in da world to paraphrase Ice T.

    Right away, approaching the entrance, you’re impressed by the immersive theming. It feels like they almost built a ride inside but decided to take a lunch break instead and then just kept serving food. The Lost Continent region of Islands of Adventure, steeped in Greek mythology and ancient lore, has always been one of my favorite places in the park. The architecture, the stories, the atmosphere all hit the nostalgia nerve for me.

    On this trip, we ate at Mythos four times and were happy every single time. My son mixed it up with his entrées, but I stayed loyal to mine and each time, I was just as excited to order it. In August, the Florida heat is brutal (who knew), but Mythos keeps it icy cold inside. Some reviewers online actually dock points for this, claiming the restaurant is too cold. To those critics, I say: may Poseidon sink your next cruise and drag you to the depths with the Kraken himself.

    The interior matches the grandeur of the exterior. Stone-carved walls, twisting paths, soaring ceilings. There are no bad seats. We have sat in the middle, by the water, near the entrance. All were good. The middle section with its expansive view and carved details is my favorite.

    This trip we scored a center booth next to the forever-spouting fish fountain. In the past, our favorite server was Madison, though this time we did not link up. Still, every server we had was fantastic. Eric, Ewa, Javiar, Amy. Mythos must be slipping ambrosia into the staff drinks, because everyone was consistently friendly, positive, and fun.

    Starters

    We went adventurous and tried almost all the appetizers: Mediterranean Lamb Flatbread, Mezze Platter, Lamb Hummus, and Spanakopita Dip. All were very good, leaning heavily on pita variations. My son and I turned it into a game, could we spread the dip in perfect ratio to match the bread. A true challenge. I am happy to say we were damn near perfect all trip. Two pimps spreading that creamy dip across each sexy slice of pita like two Greek lamb herders walking into a disco bazaar.

    Entrées

    My son rotated between the Beef Loin Medallions and the Pad Thai (Little Spice). Both are consistent winners. The medallions cooked medium-rare with a red wine reduction are a family favorite. The Pad Thai holds up too, especially considering we have some excellent Thai spots back in Connecticut. It is not a novelty, it is genuinely good.

    My go-to was the Souvlaki Couscous Bowl with pan-seared tofu. This dish is a gem: za’atar spiced couscous, cucumbers, marinated artichokes, Kalamata olives, chickpeas, feta, tzatziki, tahini. All perfectly balanced. Add a little Sriracha on the side and it is complete. On vacation, it is rare to find something this healthy and satisfying. Mythos delivers the goods.

    Dessert

    We only had room once, but we tried the Cinnamon Bread Pudding with vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce. The cinnamon cuts the sweetness just enough that I convinced myself it was practically a health food, like eating celery. The warm bread pudding with the cold ice cream and caramel drizzle is a solid contender against the Bread Pudding from Disney’s Polynesian Ohana Dinner, which is one of our favorites.

    Final Verdict: 9.45/10
    If the Greek gods took a vacation, this is where they would eat. Mythos delivers atmosphere, service, and food that rise above theme park dining and land somewhere closer to Olympus.