George Miller keeps the good stuff in a jug behind the counter of his small, nine-month-old Carolina-style ‘cue joint, Restaurant 28, in a Glendale strip mall on the southeast corner of 51st Avenue and Olive. If you tell him you hail from the Old North State, he’ll let you sniff…

When it comes to dining, or any other aspect of existence worth writing about, I consider myself simpatico with Ray Milland’s quip in Billy Wilder’s The Lost Weekend, where he riffs off a line from Thoreau, stating, “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation: I can’t take quiet desperation!” Transcendence…

What am I to do with a restaurant so studiously unambitious as the still-neonatal Fenix Eatery and Bar, ensconced in the small, dowdy “Arcadia Village” shopping center at 40th Street and Camelback Road? I hear the rabble crying to me like they did to Pontius Pilate millennia ago, urging that…

The ghost of Bob Crane led me to Bobby-Q, though the star of the ’60s sitcom Hogan’s Heroes didn’t stick around to help me eat my ribs. I should explain that Crane’s brutal, 1978 homicide in a Scottsdale apartment complex has always been a subject of fascination for me, long…

Cave Creek might as well be the dark side of the moon as far as this city mouse is concerned. I know, I know. It’s scenic and all that crap, but in my book, any area so lacking in streetlights is the sticks. And as I wend my way up…

According to the Egyptian Book of the Dead, Anubis, the jackal-headed judge of the underworld, weighs the hearts of men against the feather of truth and justice. As long as the organ does not tip the scale, the deceased is granted immortality. But if the heart is too heavy with…

For some, the word “fez” might conjure up romantic images of the ancient Moroccan city of Fez with its walled medina and medieval mosques, the setting for Paul Bowles’ brilliant, intricate novel The Spider’s House. Others might picture my hero Sydney Greenstreet as Signor Ferrari, wearing a fez and swatting…

Regarding the fleeting nature of human achievement, I’m reminded of the words of that controversial icon of early cinema, director D.W. Griffith, who once stated, “Movies are written in sand: applauded today, forgotten tomorrow.” Some movies more than others, I reckon. Griffith’s sentiment also applies to great and not-so-great meals…

I’ve had it up to here with work, so I’ve decided to phone in my column from the thriving Mexican city in which I’m vacationing. I’m seated on a long, brown and green picnic table with clusters of Hispanic families and couples, all speaking so fast in Spanish that about…

If Gotham is the city that never sleeps, then culinarily speaking, Phoenix gets all its beauty rest and then some. The primary complaint I hear from freshly unpacked twenty- and thirtysomething transplants concerns the lack of late-night nosheries. And indeed, the pickings are slim here past 9 or 10 p.m.,…

Super Dragon, I know, sounds like one of those fantastic drawings Jon Heder does while portraying ultra-nerd Napoleon Dynamite in the flick of the same name. You know, like Napoleon’s “liger,” a cross between a male lion and a female tiger that, according to Wikipedia.org, actually does exist in the…