Toby Goodshank Original Art 2025

Life with Chicken and Broccoli

Author: Jimmy

  • Restaurant Review: Tambascio’s – Newtown, CT

    Restaurant Review: Tambascio’s – Newtown, CT

    We have a saying when we’re out: “Don’t say home, say Tambascio’s.” Tambascio’s is our local spot, truly just down the road from our houses. We go through phases where we visit often, then somehow forget it, only to find ourselves saying, “Why didn’t we just go to Tambascio’s?” I think part of the reason it gets overlooked sometimes is its proximity to home. Familiarity doesn’t breed contempt in this case, just a kind of complacency when deciding where to eat.

    This review isn’t completely impartial, but the statements are 100 percent true.

    We went on a Wednesday night around 5:30 PM, and the restaurant was relatively quiet. We were greeted by the owner, who we know, and a friendly hostess. John, the owner, quickly told her to seat us at Table 23. I thought to myself, “Michael Jordan’s table in the corner.” I don’t think there are 23 tables in the place, so maybe he’s holding out hope that MJ strolls in after a stop at the Creamery and says, “I need a table.” To which John will respond, “Right this way, Mr. Jordan. We have a special one just for you.”

    Most restaurants these days don’t have the owner on the floor or in the kitchen, and I really appreciate John’s presence and love for his restaurant. It shows in the little things, which are geared toward the patron rather than the restaurant like spacing people out so they aren’t on top of one another.

    At Tambascio’s, they have someone designated for water and bread. I’m sure there’s an official title, but I’ll just call her the “Bread Lady.” Unfortunately, this Bread Lady wasn’t quite as warm and fresh as the rolls she delivered. But that’s okay, because we had Dale as our server. Dale is a local who has been there for years. He’s outstanding, professional, and friendly.

    Since it was the Wednesday after Mother’s Day, the specials menu still had “Mother’s Day” printed at the top. That initially made me hesitant, especially because I had my eye on the Paella de Valencia. As my father used to ask when it came to seafood: “Is it fresh?”

    My son, now graduated from the kids’ menu, ordered the Chicken Saltimbocca Milanese. My wife chose the New York Strip and Shrimp Marsala instead of just the lonely strip.

    Dale asked if we wanted to add a soup or salad to our entrées. I wasn’t planning to, but then he mentioned they had a homemade clam chowder. We also ordered the grilled sausage and broccoli rabe as an appetizer.

    We were starving despite having eaten that day. We’re just the “always hungry” types. We went through two baskets of bread: the first with rolls, the second with sliced bread. I wondered if the first basket was the “show pony,” and the second was like, “Come on, guys, this is a linen-covered table, not a flop house.”

    The broccoli rabe and sausage appetizer was delicious. The rabe was cooked perfectly; sweet, with just enough bite and texture without fighting your teeth. The sausage complemented the greens really well.

    The white clam chowder, which I shared with my son, was also very good. The texture wasn’t as thick as a diner-style chowder, which I appreciated. It had a smoother mouthfeel, more like a Manhattan-style chowder, something few places do anymore.

    The entrées all arrived on time and piping hot. After our first bites, we looked at each other and said what we always end up saying: “Why haven’t we been here more often?” The food was outstanding. My paella was overflowing with clams, mussels, shrimp, scallops, and andouille sausage over fragrant saffron rice. One thing that always impresses me about Tambascio’s is the quality of the seafood; it’s a notch above even most seafood-focused restaurants.

    My wife’s entrée was also excellent. Normally, ordering a steak at an Italian restaurant is a huge mistake, like the Goldbergs ordering trout at Beefsteak Charlie’s. But the quality and consistency of the cooking here surpass 90 percent of dedicated steakhouses. After we had finished, John came over to check in. We told him how much we appreciated the food, especially the seafood and steak. He let us know they cut the steaks fresh to order, and that they actually had a new cook preparing them that night.

    The final piece of the puzzle is the price. For both the quantity and quality, Tambascio’s is exceptional better than most alternatives, especially for a nice dinner out.

    We ended the night with two decaf cappuccinos and two tartufos: one for my wife and me to share, and one for our son. Content and satisfied at lucky Table 23, we didn’t see Michael Jordan, but honestly, he couldn’t have made the food any better.

  • Selling Our Childhood Home

    Selling Our Childhood Home

    My mother died unexpectedly on March 16th, 2024, from what we still don’t truly know. For a lot of people, that uncertainty causes angst. It seems that when people know what someone died of, they can soothe their own fears or file it away in a box to be shelved and never reopened. Science currently tells us that genetics only account for about 5 to 12 percent of our health outcomes, so I’m not concerned for myself.  What’s more disconcerting is that the people we love can be here one moment and gone the next. We all know this on some level, but when it’s your mother, it hits differently. You can’t fully grasp it until she’s no longer there.

    Her passing caused my father to follow not long after; he died in July of what I believe was a broken heart.

    Your childhood home is always your mom’s house. A father might pay for it or be the main contributor, but your mom makes it a home. She creates the atmosphere, the warm air of comfort and serenity that makes it a safe haven against the world. My parents were warm and loving, and our home was a fortress of solitude filled with a childhood of happy memories. My favorite spots were the living room, the downstairs game room I created, and the property outside.

    My brother and I are blessed in that we could keep the home. We could leave it empty indefinitely as some kind of forever monument to our parents. But choices aren’t always blessings. They can bring ambiguity, and with that comes stress. What should we do? Should we sell it? Turn it into a giant man cave with video games, projectors for movies, pinball machines, arcade cabinets, a meeting place for family dinners, pickleball courts, and maybe even a lazy river around the perimeter? My son was fully on board as the vision for this funhouse kept ever growing in scale.

    We also considered turning it into a rental or Airbnb, but when we looked at the income versus the upkeep, it didn’t make sense. It does have an in-law apartment, but that couldn’t be used unless we lived there. When your parents die, you grow up. Even though I’ve been doing all the adult things for years, I have managed to remain childlike until now.

    My parents were what I’d call “light” hoarders. They had an addiction to stuff: knickknacks, bric-a-brac, collectibles that lost value over time, obscure curios, and they just kept adding shelves to hold more and more. They enjoyed the thrill of acquiring things they’d rarely touch again. We always joked that when they passed, we’d need a bulldozer to clear out the house. Instead, we’ve spent months going through everything slowly, trying to be respectful and dutiful sons. We did our best to keep what we could and ended up moving several shelves’ worth of their things to my mother-in-law’s house. My mom’s Beanie Babies made the cut, and I hope she can forgive us for what we threw away.

    All the while, we kept deliberating on what to do with the house. Eventually, we made the decision to sell, and once that choice was made, I felt a huge wave of relief. We’re still in the process of clearing it out. Three (soon to be four) giant dumpsters later, and we’re finally getting close to the finish line.

    After finishing another long Sunday of cleaning on a beautiful spring day, I brought my brother up to the deck. My father had fallen in love with the house because of the property. Even though it was on a busy road, the back of the lot reminded him of Central Park, a peaceful escape for someone who grew up on the streets of Manhattan. And he was right. It’s beautiful, quiet, and serene. The deck is surrounded by the family room and the master bedroom addition he had built. It created a kind of protected enclosure with a park-like view. He never dreamed, growing up, that he’d have something like this. I can still see him floating in the pool on his raft, soaking in the sun.

    The nostalgia hits hard: hanging outside, growing up, playing in that yard, parties, holidays, family movie nights. With those memories, my resolve wavers. My brother has been conflicted as well. But I know those ghosts of the past are just that, memories. What we had can never be again. That is incredibly hard to reconcile and yet as the same time, it is still okay.

    I’m incredibly grateful. I love the life I have now, I love my family, and I treasure the way we grew up. I feel renewed and oddly content. I think about the future and the family who will one day buy this home. I imagine them walking through the door and somehow feeling what we always felt coming home: peace, safety, love. I hope the home my mother created, the protection my father provided, and the warmth that filled these walls blesses their lives the way it blessed ours.

  • Wing Review: Buffalo Wild Wings – Danbury CT

    Wing Review: Buffalo Wild Wings – Danbury CT

    What hasn’t been said about Buffalo Wild Wings, the epitome of wing excellence, sitting atop the tallest ivory tower in Foodom? I was weary of this place for years. I thought it was a hole. A certain kind of hole, the kind that things come out of, not the kind things should be going into.

    I finally changed my tune when I found out they fry their wings in tallow, only to later have my heart broken by Bobby Parrish and his insidious green thumb of approval (or disapproval). So what you’re saying is that both natural and artificial flavors are bad for me? I can’t live like this! RFK couldn’t have come quick enough to remedy what ails me. Anyway, enough of that business, so says Mr. Morrow.

    The recent trend in all these chain dining restaurants is to have a digital layout of the space so they know where to Amber Heard you around. When I go in now, I run away from the entry check-in stand and look to see where I want to sit. I don’t care about what is good for them, I want to know what is good for me. I don’t care about efficiencies or how many tables Karen or Steve has. I’m Veruca Salt and I want it now.

    On this visit, I deferred to my son who was left defeated when our hostess directed us to one unseated table to complete her Tetris puzzle block of placement and win her manager’s approval for “Most Sauciest!”

    His hesitation to push back on the seating choice had everything to do with our hostess, who stood about five feet tall but commanded the Danbury location with an iron fist of efficiency and unshakable determination. Her rolled-up sleeves revealed full-arm tattoos that seemed to carry stories of pain, struggle, and maybe even a flicker of hope for a better day. If wings ever needed a guardian angel, she was it. You just knew she wasn’t about to let a single ranch cup go unaccounted for.

    It’s always hit or miss with the servers. We have had some great ones and then we get some schlubs. Our server today was known as TT, TT the cookie making aunt, and she was super sweet. She even offered to make us cookies next time we came in, but we had no way to let her know when we’d be back.

    We always ask how many flavors we can get and it’s always six on thirty wings, one flavor per five wings. Our family staple is Salt and Vinegar. My wife enjoys Buffalo Mild and daughter Judy likes Barbecue. Then my brother and sister in-law are the wild cards. They check out the new flavors while still paying respect to the classics. No matter what we ate, my brother was getting something later so did it matter, did it ever matter?

    We get sodas and they come in giant plastic glasses and they keep them flowing. Coke Zero or is it Pepsi, then the seltzers. Don’t you ever forget the seltzers! If you are married to an Italian from Westchester County, they always have a seltzer with lemon. No water. Not now. Not ever. And sometimes we just tell them, “Get a pitcher!”

    The wings are small to medium sized and always cooked perfectly. We asked that they come “Crispy”. The cafeteria dining tray we receive with the flavors and a separate tray for our blue cheeses, carrots, and celery are always welcome sights. We knock down the first thirty and order another thirty. There are also some American burgers ordered with fries. The American Smash Burger they have there is what you want when you get a fast food burger. It is delicious and probably good for you. Probably.

    Final Verdict: 8.15 out of 10
    Some of the best wings around. You know it.

  • Restaurant Review: Mangia Mi East – Sandy Hook, CT

    Restaurant Review: Mangia Mi East – Sandy Hook, CT

    Saturday night before Mother’s Day and we arrive at this beautifully renovated house-turned-restaurant on the hill in Sandy Hook, CT. Taking the Missus out the day before Mother’s Day to avoid the crowds and share just a small token of the gratitude and thankfulness I have for her.

    We were fortunate enough to call at 5:10 PM and get a reservation for 5:30. However, when we arrived, most of the interior dining area was sparsely filled. It was a beautiful spring evening and we wanted to sit outside, though we hesitated as the building faces west and we didn’t want the setting sun in our eyes. Fortunately, the front porch area is spacious and there was a four-top right beside the exterior door that provided shade and a warm breeze.

    The outside area was more lively, still about halfway to capacity. There was a table of four beside us that was a little boisterous, probably due to some well-deserved spring daydrinking. One of the cocktails of choice that I overheard reordered was a Jack Daniels on the rocks, which I can only describe as Sandy Hook chic.

    The restaurant location is pleasant. However, sitting outside, there is a construction site adjacent to the porch which you can’t do anything about. The property line of the restaurant could use some landscaping TLC maybe a mow, a bed of flowers, or even a well-shaved bush.

    My wife’s family is Italian and they are all exceptional cooks, so we really need a draw to go out for Italian food. I was hoping for a large seafood entrée like a Zuppa di Pesce with all the bountiful umami of the sea. Mangia Mi does make their own pasta, which is so critical when you have so many Italian restaurants and ever-increasing, inflated costs. How can you justify a $35-plus entrée for dry spaghetti that costs two dollars a pound?

    The wait staff was all younger local kids. They were very friendly and helpful. Our waitress was especially kind and knew the menu well, able to help with questions or assist with a selection.

    We decided on the Roasted Brussels Sprouts with crispy pancetta and shaved pecorino, and my wife wanted the Blistered Cherry Tomato Crostini. I feel like the price point on these was $18 for the sprouts and $13 for the crostini, which is important because there was a vast difference between them not unlike Alfredo’s Pizza Café and Pizza by Alfredo.

    The Brussels sprouts were delicious, cooked through so they were soft but still had a little char and crisp from the roasting heat. The shaved pecorino provided a complementary texture, along with the salty and generous cubes of pancetta. My mild case of OCD kicked in, separating the food to get each bite to include a trio of the ingredients.

    Now, as lovely as the Brussels sprouts were, the crostini was disappointing in the other direction. It reminded me of when my mom used to do cheese and crackers for the daycare kids except I would have much rather preferred those. For thirteen dollars, you got three small pieces of crostini, a tight smear of cheese, and around six to nine small cherry tomato halves. There was no flavor and it was just blah. It hurt my frugal heart.

    For our entrées, I got the Shrimp Fra Diavolo over homemade linguine, and my wife got the Crispy Chicken Piccata with capers, lemon, and wine over tagliatelle. My entrée was good, but I can only describe it as and now I know what it means to say one dimensional. The pasta was cooked well but had no flavor. The fra diavolo sauce was good but again, just missing something. It felt like some red sauce with a nice bit of heat, but I wanted to add salt, pepper, and garlic. The shrimp was also very well cooked but lacked seasoning and depth. It felt as if each part had been cooked separately, and when combined, they weren’t feeling one another  so they kept their distance. There was no love, no sweet Italian serenade on my plate.

    My wife’s entrée was another story. The ingredients were old friends. They had obviously been hanging out and enjoyed one another’s company. The crispy chicken was thin, flavorful, and pan-fried wonderfully. The piccata sauce with capers soaked into the chicken and tagliatelle, with a beautiful lemon freshness dancing around shouting “Look at me!” It had that mangiami (eat me) attitude. I ended up taking parts of her dish and incorporating them into mine to bring out some flavor, and it worked nicely.

    After our meals, my wife was excited to get a dessert called banana bread pudding which she had before. However, we found out it was part of the seasonal menu and they didn’t have it. That was okay because we were content to have our decaf cappuccinos, however we found out they don’t have those either. In the end, we were sitting quietly on the deck and thought it would be nice if they had some light background music, when all of a sudden “Make It with You” by Bread started playing from somewhere.

    The gentle breeze and warm tune lifted us up and carried us quietly back across town.

    Final Verdict: 7/10
    This was our second visit, and I’m hopeful that they will pull it all together for a third-time’s-the-charm experience.

  • Diner Review: Laurel Diner – Southbury, CT

    Diner Review: Laurel Diner – Southbury, CT

    Had breakfast this morning at Laurel Diner, a Southbury staple. It’s a local favorite, particularly with the senior crowd  and as someone who’s now officially past the “middle-age hump,” I’m grateful to be in the mix. I was probably 30 years younger than most of the guests, but not quite young enough to be throwing stones or passing judgments.

    Located just off Exit 14, head up the street a bit and it’s tucked on the left side of South Main Street. You’ll almost miss it if you’re not looking, it’s that kind of classic small-town spot. There’s an overflow lot just past the building on the left; I parked there. The whole place gave me a nostalgic hit: when I lived in Woodbury with my Yia Yia (Grandmother), she’d take me to Southbury Foodmart. I’d watch in a bored glee as the elderly gently collided with one another in the parking lot, politely assessing the bumper damage before offering a shrug and going on with their day. “In my day, the bumpers could actually take a bump!”

    Inside, all the 4-tops were taken, so I grabbed a seat at the coffee-bar stools while waiting for my wife. She had to move the car after parking in front of a neighboring business which I’m sure has to fight for its spots with all the traffic going to Laurel’s. As she came in, a couple near the back got up, and we quickly grabbed the freshly vacated table. It’s tight in there, charmingly cramped and while we fit, we had several knee-collisions. I’m 6’4″, and once I sit, I don’t move. My wife, 5’5″ (give or take an inch), kept knocking into me every time she adjusted.

    We both ordered decaf, which was fresh-brewed and served in Laurel’s own classic, local business advertisements coffee mugs that feel like they came straight from a 1978 truck stop in the best possible way.

    Laurel Diner has apparently won awards, I don’t recall the specifics, but I recently saw it featured in a Connecticut Diner Bracket Challenge, and it was holding its own in the final rounds.

    I’ve learned to ask what a diner is known for before I order, and I’m glad I did.   Our server said the homemade hash and the cinnamon raisin toast were house favorites. I went with “The Kiki” special, which included both. My wife stuck with eggs, bacon, and a pancake to share.

    The food came out quickly, not quite “Greek diner with Mexican cooks” fast, but close. Everything was excellent. The homemade corned beef hash was zesty and flavorful, the home fries were seasoned well and crispy, and the cinnamon raisin toast was a treat.  It reminded me of Cinnabon without the frosting; rich, buttery, and just sweet enough. The bacon was solid, better than average diner bacon, but nothing that will haunt my dreams. The pancake we shared dressed in extra butter and syrup was also amazing; light and fluffy. My wife noted her eggs looked more golden with a deeper yellow hue, which led her to guess they might be pasture-raised. Of course, we’re just speculating and don’t know what we’re talking about, but that didn’t stop us from saying it.

    Price Check

    It’s a bit pricier than your average diner, I estimated about 27% higher but for the quality, it felt justified. The portions were generous, the food was excellent, and the vibe was clean and welcoming.  Big note is that they only take cash, which for some reason I didn’t have that much today and felt like a kid again looking through my wallet and wife’s purse to make sure we had enough to pay for our meal.  Luckily we didn’t have to wash the dishes.

    Staff & Space

    The servers were friendly and competent, without the tired diner attitude I can’t stand. The space is snug, and with the heat from the grill and a packed house, we were starting to sweat a little. It’s not the kind of place you linger for hours in but it delivers what it promises: great food, fast, with a little local soul and a gentle whiff of Bengay.

    Final Verdict: 7.75/10

    A little cramped, a little pricey, but totally worth it for the taste, quality, service, and charm. Would I go back? Absolutely!