There are certain rituals that stitch people together — quietly, lovingly, across time and distance. For my son and me, that ritual has always been books. And food.
He lives in Israel now — curious, kind and brilliantly multilingual, currently adding Greek to his growing list of languages. Even as he’s grown into a man with his own life and path, we’ve held onto the small, sacred things that keep us close. We still read together. And we still eat together.
We’ve had a two-person book club for as long as I can remember. Nicky named it the Mommy-Nicky Book Club about 25 years ago, and the name — like the bond — has stuck. We started with chapter books, but it wasn’t long before Nicky was diving into nonfiction: sociology texts, memoirs, politics. Even as a child, he was more interested in understanding the world than escaping it. He’s always been drawn to the bigger picture — how people live, what systems shape them and how empathy fits into it all.
As for me, I’m a former English teacher. I’ve taught plenty of literary analysis in my time, but I’ve always believed books are for enjoyment first. Nicky and I don’t dissect our stories — we savor them. That’s the unspoken rule of our club. We choose a title, read it at our own pace — often side by side on couches or over a shared meal — and we don’t talk about it until we’re both done. No spoilers. No speculation. Just quiet companionship as the pages turn.
Now that he’s in Israel, we still read together — sending updates and reactions over WhatsApp. I’ll admit it: he chooses better books than I do, and I’m all the richer for it. (Look for our current recommendations at the end of this column.)
On this particular night, we were celebrating the end of a joy-filled week — full of deep conversations, companionable silences and the mundane tasks of daily life made extraordinary simply because he was home. We chose a dinner that reflected the world he lives in and the cultures he moves through so naturally. Who better to accompany me to a Mediterranean restaurant than my resident multicultural expert?
Café Mediterranean in Hyde Park felt like the perfect intersection of our worlds.
At Café Mediterranean, you’re enveloped in a sense of place. Warm lighting. Turkish tile accents. Earth-toned walls. And the unmistakable scents of garlic, lemon, cumin and something delicious charring over open flame. It smells like travel. It smells like home.
The restaurant is the creation of Fahri Ozdil, a native of Adana, Turkey, who opened Café Mediterranean in 2008. Since then, the restaurant has moved from Anderson to Blue Ash and finally to Hyde Park, but Fahri’s vision has remained intact: soulful, honest food rooted in tradition. He sources top-tier ingredients, imports his spices and lets the recipes do the talking.
We arrived with our Kindles in hand — our current book club selection is Murder Takes a Vacation by Laura Lippman — and settled into our table with the kind of ease that comes from years of shared ritual. No plot talk allowed, of course. Just a few smiles exchanged above the screens, the occasional bite passed silently between us, and the contented rhythm of two people reading together in peace.
We started with the cold appetizer sampler, a beautifully arranged spread of six small dishes. The stuffed grape leaves were a standout — unlike the purely savory versions I’ve had elsewhere, these were subtly laced with cinnamon, adding warmth and depth. There was creamy, tangy hummus, drizzled with olive oil and served with grilled bread. But the star for me was the eggplant marinara — meltingly tender, glistening with oil, and delicious on its own or mixed with a spoonful of labneh, the garlicky, herb-laced yogurt spread, or a forkful of tabbouleh, bright with parsley, tomato and lemon.
For the main course, Nicky ordered the chicken shish kebab, a dish so rooted in Middle Eastern cuisine it might as well be a passport stamp. The chicken arrived perfectly grilled — tender on the inside, lightly charred on the edges, infused with spices that hinted at sumac, paprika and a touch of lemon. It was served with fluffy rice and a medley of roasted vegetables — carrots, green beans and tomatoes — all caramelized just enough to bring out their sweetness. Simple. Balanced. Deeply familiar.
I ordered the grilled salmon, and it arrived like a sunset on a plate. The fillet was thick and juicy, the skin crisped to a golden finish. It was seasoned with restraint — just salt, olive oil and fresh herbs — allowing the flavor of the fish to shine. Underneath was a bed of grilled vegetables, their smoky sweetness a perfect foil for the richness of the salmon. It was elegant in its simplicity and cooked with obvious care.
We read through most of the meal. Every now and then, one of us would glance up, maybe make a face in response to a twist, or smile as if to say, “You’re going to love what happens next.” But we didn’t speak about the book. Not yet. The Mommy-Nicky Book Club is built on trust and timing.
For dessert, we shared a piece of pistachio baklava — flaky, golden and not overly sweet. We each have our preferred way of eating it, carefully dissecting the layers to appreciate the interplay of pastry, nuts and syrup. It’s a dessert made for lingering, and linger we did.
What makes Café Mediterranean so special is that it understands something we’ve always known: food is more than food, and stories are more than stories. They’re vessels of connection. They’re how we say what we don’t always have words for and when we need to communicate across cultures. Across continents.
As we stepped into the warm Cincinnati evening, Kindles in hand, Nicky turned to me and said, “That was perfect.” And I knew he didn’t just mean the chicken or the salmon or the baklava. He meant the moment. He meant being us — together.
Next week, we hit the road. Our Kindles — and a few emergency hardbacks — will ride along in the backseat, waiting for that first post-final-chapter conversation. We’ll stop for coffee. We’ll seek out bookstores. We’ll talk about everything and nothing. And we’ll carry this dinner with us — the way all the best meals stay with you.
Book Recommendations
• The Murderess by Laurie Notaro
• Far From the Tree by Andrew Solomon
• Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner
• Long Island Compromise by Taffy Brodesser-Akner
• The River is Waiting by Wally Lamb
• The Devil at His Elbow: Alex Murdaugh and the Fall of a Southern Dynasty by Valerie Bauerlein
