Cops like to eat. So do writers. My husband Hilary and I eat out once or twice a week. And it turns out—funny thing!—some of the places we go are where the cops go in TAKEN, FALLEN, AFTERIMAGE, and THE ODDS (THE ODDS is turning into a very foody book). And there are so many other terrific places the cops can eat in future books . . . Click here for an interactive Google map of the Cop's Culinary Tour! Tessaro's: 4601 Liberty Avenue—Bloomfield Kathy and Hilary at Tessaro's Tessaro's is high up on my list because I love hardwood grilled meat and fish and that's what you get there—steaks, chops, chicken, ribs (pork and beef), and seafoods that include prawns, mahi mahi, salmon, scallops . You can watch the cooks behind the big glass window working away in what must be mind-boggling heat. The owners/hosts Kelly and Ena greet me and Hilary warmly whenever we go in there; they make us feel like old friends. And the waitresses are fantastic, every one—Angie, Jessica, Lisa. So. The long and short of it is that my detective Colleen goes pretty often to Tessaro's. (It turns out that when the Pittsburgh police were headquartered in East Liberty, they did actually go there often.) In AFTERIMAGE a whole group of detectives hits Tessaro's for dinner early on in the novel. They have two puzzling cases to solve. They gather around Christie who is not only their boss, but their spiritual papa—charismatic. Colleen is the only woman in the group. Detective Potocki tells a raunchy story that turns kind of serious. Colleen has to balance being herself and fitting in with the guys. Colleen goes back to Tessaro's several times in the next book in the series. In one scene, she's alone, sitting at the bar, and she orders one of the famous "best burger award" hamburgers. But another time, she and (ahem) one of the other detectives have a meal together and share a few intimacies. It's unwise to mess with a co-worker, but when people are attracted, what can you do? More: Post-Gazette: In the Kitchen CitySearch Alexander's Restaurant: 5104 Liberty Avenue—Bloomfield Specializes in Italian food. Hilary and I ate there with my sister's family at a dinner event that included her wonderful mother-in-law, Rose. The restaurant was a good choice for a family dinner—big portions, and everybody getting stuffed on appetizers of calamari and zucchini before the meal ever arrived—that kind of thing. Rose did the "create your own pasta" special. Alexander's has smaller front tables up front with banquettes along the wall and had big fireside 'Alistair Cooke' chairs on the outside. Alas, Alexander's has replaced those big comfy chairs. In AFTERIMAGE Colleen Greer agrees to have dinner with David Hoffman, a man who was once her boss and who is now a suspect in the two current murders. He has begged her to meet with him as a friend. She tells him she simply has to have veal parmigiana. What she really wants is the soft surfaces and the apparent privacy of a big chair at a front table in Alexander's. She gets her veal parm, though. And some evidence, too. The impossible waiter is purely an invention, somebody made up of various impossible waiters in my travels. More: CitySearch Pleasure Bar: 4729 Liberty Avenue—Bloomfield This is a favorite Pittsburgh bar and restaurant that goes back 70 years. It's just up the street from Alexander's and just down the street from Tessaro's. Bloomfield once attracted Italian and Eastern European immigrants. Many of their families are still there, but students of various stripes have discovered the neighborhood and moved in. The Pleasure Bar serves homestyle Italian food. "Hilary," I said, "we need a break from grilled fish. Maybe we should have a hit of Italian sometime soon. Pleasure Bar." "I used to go there a lot," he told me, "when I first came to Pittsburgh. Lynn Barrett used to take me and the other writing faculty there. Big portions. Affordable." Every city needs a good sprinkling of Italian restaurants that don't try to do something hip, just the good old regular solid meals for moderate or low prices. The Pleasure Bar was just the right place to my mind for the surveillance Christie and Dolan needed to do in AFTERIMAGE. Had they been in Greenfield (where Christie once lived in TAKEN . . .), I would have sent them to the amazingly low-priced, unfancy and very good Big Jim's, located at the empty edge of a neighborhood where a couple of roads end. In AFTERIMAGE, Christie and Dolan end up sitting in the car in front of the Honda lot on Liberty Avenue, eating takeout from the Pleasure Bar—let's says it's veal parm for Dolan who is a suggestible guy with a big appetite and for Christie who has problems with acid reflux a pasta primavera. They would have liked to go inside for a sit down meal if not home to their wives, but they have to be on hand for Colleen who's in Alexander's Restaurant again, hoping David Hoffman will pick up her invitation and show up for a second time. More: CitySearch Bloomfield Bridge Tavern: 4412 Liberty Avenue—Bloomfield This is a good old Polish bar with kielbasa and pierogies and other ethnic foods best eaten by people with no cholesterol problems. That describes Hilary whose numbers are perfect, his doctor tells him. Mine aren't. (When we were on our wedding trip on a stop in Devon, England, a doctor who was also a tourist told me in a high state of hilarity that I might as well simply inject the clotted cream right into my veins; the Lebanese, she said, are so predisposed to high cholesterol, I didn't have a chance.) So Hilary goes to the Bloomfield Bridge Tavern on boys' night out with his friends to have sausages and imported beers. My detective Colleen can go there; she can handle it; she's got a strong constitution. I only fantasize about the buttery pierogies. More: CitySearch Ritter's: 5221 Baum Boulevard—East Liberty Next door to Bloomfield and surely a haunt of the detectives when they worked in East Liberty, Ritter's is a twenty-four hour place that serves a good greasy spoon breakfast any time you want it. A big glaring lights diner in the old style, it's been a favorite of people on tight budgets for a long time. I used to go there a lot with pals in my grad student days and first teaching job. If you don't want breakfast, you can have standards like meatloaf and fried chicken and just about anything that comes with gravy. I could have sent David Hoffman there after I had him driving around all night in a frenzy, but there he was on Second Avenue downtown, so I sent him to an imaginary place, a little storefront of a breakfast place, a small greasy spoon that had a sign in the window that said "2-2-2 breakfast special." That's two pieces of bacon, sausage or ham, two eggs, and two pancakes for $2.22!! What inspired this place and this menu? Well, I enjoyed this very breakfast at Harrigan's in the Holiday Inn in Johnstown, my home town, a place that prides itself on being inexpensive. I transported this great breakfast deal to a little dive off Second Avenue where David Hoffman eats while waiting for his appointment at the morgue. Side note: Not only does David Hoffman order bacon for breakfast at this point in the novel, but he keeps smelling it or thinking he does in various other scenes. I couldn't help noticing that my character Bridget in Fallen gets in the habit of bacon for breakfast. Bacon just keeps coming into my fiction although I've made it a rare treat for myself. I finally figured out why. I'm writing early in the morning and Hilary is making his breakfast—two times out of three it's bacon. The smell kills me. I love it. And it creeps right into my novels. More: CitySearch Lindo's: 947 Western Avenue—North Side Speaking of bacon . . . . I love greasy spoon restaurants, so when I want the rare treat of bacon, I choose one of those. In our neighborhood, which is now where the police are headquartered, there is a classic place Hilary and I can walk to. Lindo's. They serve grits, too. Once—I can't remember why—I went there alone and ordered the one-armed bandit. I couldn't eat it all. The next day I dragged Hilary there. What a deal—almost as cheap as Johnstown. The one-armed-bandit is "One farm fresh egg, one large sausage patty, one piece of toast with jelly, one pancake, and one-half order of home fries." And they do substitutions, so you can get bacon instead of sausage, grits instead of home fries. The price is $3.25. In AFTERIMAGE Colleen has been dreaming about a Lindo's breakfast. Her boyfriend, John, takes her there. Unfortunately, it's in Lindo's, one of her favorite places, that he attempts to break up with her. Peppi's: 927 Western Avenue—North Side (and other locations) An amazing sub and sandwich shop. Each sandwich is huge, often with provolone on top of meats, and enough for two or three people. It's a place real cops and imaginary cops go often to pick up takeout. Anita Washington, a victim of crime in AFTERIMAGE works there. Her husband Deon works a few blocks away at the imaginary Bigg's Tavern. Now there is a Rigg's Tavern in the neighborhood, not quite the right physical set up for my character so I made up another bar. While researching, I learned that the owner of Rigg's though was named Richard Riggs. I went to grad school with a Richard Riggs! I went to a movie with a Richard Riggs! I thought, "This is going to turn out to be a great coincidence!" But the current bartender looked at me suspiciously and insisted his Richard Riggs went to Duquesne, not Pitt, and was not anything so frivolous as a theatre student. More: CitySearch Pittsburgh Tribune-Review Ye Allegheny Sandwich Shop: 822 Western Avenue—North Side When the cops need takeout, if it isn't a Peppi's sandwich, it's likely to be something from this modestly priced and pleasant soup and sandwich shop. Colleen, dropped off by Christie in AFTERIMAGE, has to choose lunch for herself and Christie. She's ravenous. While scarfing down soup, she makes phone calls to track down information on a suspect. Then she trots down the street to headquarters with a tuna salad and a chicken salad (the cracked pepper burger would cool down too much as she walked), giving Christie his choice. More: Pittsburgh Dish Modern Café: 862 Western Avenue—North Side The building is an original art-deco place and was chosen as a location for the film Wonderboys. If you go to Peppi's or Ye Allegheny you are a few doors from The Modern. Hilary and I went there to hear music a while back. It's a Greek-owned good old bar serving reliable hamburgers and fries and daily specials I set a very tense scene in there between two scared men—Nick and Carl—in my next novel. Both men are caught in the drug trade. More: ClubPlanet The Monterey Pub: 1227 Monterey Street—North Side Right on a residential street. Voted best Irish Pub in Pittsburgh. The cook offers bangers and mash, Guinness pot roast, and shepherd's pie as well as the usual bar foods and a special which could be anything from stuffed peppers to cajun catfish to fried chicken. Hilary and I know the owners and most of the customers and we love the small, homey place. An interesting guy, Bob, eats there almost every night. I often order chicken in or on a salad, Colleen's default meal. Hilary is more likely to have the special. Colleen and her boyfriend come here in AFTERIMAGE. He insists on talking, she's wounded by him, trying not to cry, and then she's interrupted by a cell-phone call from a suspect. Work to do! Does work cure the woes of love or only distract for a moment? More: Monterey Pub Park House: 403 E. Ohio—North Side Peanutz: 410 E. Ohio—North Side A couple of high-up policemen in AFTERIMAGE go to an unspecified bar on East Ohio Street for lunch. They do a three or four drink lunch, but they also eat a hefty meal there. In the book in progress, THE ODDS, I also have two (tired) old detectives go to East Ohio for supper (and booze). One day, walking home via Cedar Avenue from the auto shop, I decided to do my homework and visit these bars. But before I got to them, I ran into a former student. I felt a blush of embarrassment because this same student, a favorite, had inspired a character in AFTERIMAGE. I was also embarrassed because I was wearing a sacky old dress and deck shoes—a just climbed out of bed outfit. I was vastly disappointed, in fact, that my student recognized me. Was I not in disguise? Ah, well. We chatted and I moved on. The Park House, it turned out, was the perfect setting for my scene between the Chief and the Assistant Chief in AFTERIMAGE. It's believed to be the oldest tavern in Pittsburgh. The offerings are anything from a half-pound burger to a falafel sandwich and tabooleh. The only problem I had with it was: no pinball machines. They'd been replaced, even there in a historic tavern, by electric video poker machines with tweeps and beeps rather than the rattle of balls on metal. In my mind, there are pinball machines there. So in my novel there are, too. More: Pittsburgh Dish Pittsburgh Business Times I crossed the street to Peanutz. The sign out front told me I could have a veal parmigiana sandwich or stuffed green peppers. I feel sure my two old detectives, Nellins and Hrznak, in THE ODDS will be happy in here. Maybe one of them can play video poker because it has taken over here, too. The customers looked at me curiously because I didn't sit down or order a beer. I was just a funny woman in a sacky dress, studying the joint, and they were studying me. More: CityGuide Atria's: Federal Street—North Side (and 7 other locations) Hilary and I go to this restaurant often. In good weather we like sitting outdoors. How to describe it? Instead of trying I ask Hilary to describe this one. He's having a rough morning at the typewriter so he looks cheery when he brings me a typed sheet of newsprint with: "There's an appealing naivete about Atria's in its mix of Pittsburgh menus—hearty servings of meats and starches—with a rough and ready bistro atmosphere. Food is well-prepared and the drinks are generous. It's the kind of place you might take your favorite aunt to while hooking up with some old pals." The original restaurant on Banksville Road is the setting of an important scene between the pharmacist Megan and her boyfriend Tony in FALLEN. The North Side Atria's, only a mile or so from the new police headquarters, is a good stop for the detectives in AFTERIMAGE. Unfortunately they have to leave half their meals uneaten when the call comes in about a fresh homicide. More: Atria's Outback Steakhouse: 109 Federal Street—North Side This chain has an agreement with PNC park. Some of the tickets include dinner as well as baseball; you can watch the game from the restaurant. Hilary and I tried it once with a party of people. We decided we liked being in the stands for the game, but we can see plenty of people do like the restaurant/game combination and the idea of lamb chops or ribs instead of hot dogs or fish sandwiches. In THE ODDS, Colleen and her male colleague (ahem, again) go to the Outback when they're exhausted and in need of a big late dinner close to headquarters. More: More at Outback Steakhouse Quik-It Chicken: 820 Pennsylvania Avenue—North Side When the University of Pittsburgh used to house a Roy Rogers Restaurant, I was guilty of meandering in there at any hour for fried chicken. The smell permeated the whole Cathedral of Learning. Now that franchise is gone and my fix comes from Quik-It. Hilary and I have taken Quik-It chicken to many parties—for my cast members of Her First American, to Chuck Kinder's house when he hosts his famous writer-parties. Other people agree that it's addictively good. The cooks at Quik-It don't stint on fat and salt. In THE ODDS when Colleen needs a take-out dinner for Memorial Day (to be shared with her male colleague), she buys a big pack of Quik-It, corn bread and all. More: www.restaurant.com/microsite.asp?rid=300391&rpid=3406. Shady Grove and Walnut Grill: 5500 Walnut Street (at Belfont)—Shadyside One afternoon I had a fantastic brick oven pizza at Shady Grove so two days later I took Hilary there for another one. This downstairs restaurant is a bar with some outdoor seating. They serve, in addition to pizza, salads, wraps, large drinks. Upstairs is a full restaurant, The Walnut Grill, with a large selection of entrees—seafoods, steaks, crab cakes are only a few standards. Shady Grove is where the criminal in AFTERIMAGE goes. He sits downstairs having one drink after another, waiting for an opportunity to blow town. At the restaurant above, watching him as well as he can, is Detective Potocki. Around the corner, ready to tail him is Detective Colleen Greer. This is not the only glimpse they have of him for they have been watching his house from the Tassa D'Oro coffee shop in Highland Park. More: CitySearch CitySearch (Enrico's) Tazza D'Oro Coffee Shop: 1125 North Highland Avenue—Highland Park A great place to sit for a long time with a computer or without one. They serve panini with yummy stuff on. Hilary and I have gone there to meet with other writers. John Potocki sits there watching the perp's house. He drinks a lot of coffee. When Colleen takes a shift there, she, of course, eats a sandwich. I'd say her panini has prosciutto, mozzarella, portobella, and roasted peppers on it. Mineo's Pizza House: 2128 Murray Avenue—Squirrel Hill In the phone book, there are columns of listings of pizza houses in Pittsburgh, but one of the oldest, if not the oldest, is Mineo's. Their ad says they've been in business since 1958 and that they have been "voted best pizza in Pittsburgh for 27 years running" by Pittsburgh Magazine. They're right down the street from Colleen's house. So when the detectives gather there—and Colleen and Dolan are predictably hungry—they order from Mineo's. At the same time they're eating pizza, one of their suspects is holed up in a motel in Bridgeville doing the same. In Bridgeville, this guy would order from Vocelli which has stands all over the city and surrounding areas. Their ad says they were voted best pizza by Pittsburgh Magazine. In fine print, they specify whether this was the silver or gold medals and in which years. Let Vocelli's duke it out with Mineo's. When I need a pizza, I'd order either. Primanti's—Oakland, South Side, The Strip, PNC Park In Pittsburgh, you can't avoid Primanti's. The original is the one in the strip (46 18th Street), the wholesale district. The restaurant started out as a down and dirty place frequented by truck drivers supplying the strip. Word passed among hip Pittsburgh residents that it was a cool place to go. Hilary tells me that when he first got to Pittsburgh, he was amazed by this place—sandwiches made a mile high, handed to you on butcher paper, and a pile of cole slaw and French fries in (or is it on) the sandwich. Once Hilary and I got together, I watched him take our visitors there as part of his Pittsburgh tour. Nicholas Pileggi was suitably impressed. Primanti's doesn't appear in AFTERIMAGE, but it does in TAKEN when the cops need a quick meal. And in THE ODDS, Primanti's comes into the story in this way: It has now taken over the South Side bar that used to be called the Blue Note and then was called The Blues Café. Hilary and I heard his talented student Eric Spalding play tenor sax there one night. We stood below while the performers played up on the balcony. We got hungry and ordered the only thing the kitchen still had late at night, French fries. Now the current customers and bartenders have the blues because the music has stopped. You can get a Primanti's sandwich, but you can't get the jazz. However, the place continues to be the setting for a big scene in THE ODDS. Colleen is there having too much to drink while she waits to meet Nick—handsome, wistful, quiet, charming, criminal. She's expected to do a job and keep her head. Some assignments are tougher than others. More: Primanti Brothers Kassab's: 1207 E. Carson Street—South Side I cook Lebanese foods. The first meal I made for Hilary was stuffed zucchini (rice and lamb stuffing) and that was under pressure because I was intimidated by what a good cook he was. The second meal he made for me was Lo scrigno di Venere—caskets of Venus, caskets of love. What this means is: homemade yellow pasta sheets filled with strips of spinach pasta, ham, bechamel, and wild mushrooms, the whole tied in a bundle fastened with a pasta noodle. I was very impressed. Lebanese restaurants are everywhere these days. When I was growing up, nobody outside our culture knew what a spinach pie was. I was looking for a place for Colleen and Potocki to grab a bite on the job. There they were—driving along on the South Side. Alas, the place called Brad's Terminal Lunch was gone. And so was Rita's Terminal Lunch that quickly replaced it. And I don't know how many others. I loved it for the joke. Get it? Terminal lunch. Given that I couldn't use Brad's place, I was planning to send Colleen and Potocki to Janet's Middle Eastern but it's gone. Luckily up the street was another Middle-Eastern eatery where my characters could get an afternoon snack of spinach pie and falafel. More: CitySearch Two places from FALLEN: Gullifty's: 1922 Murray Avenue—Squirrel Hill This oddly configured restaurant has begun a jazz series. I once took my mother there when she was recovering from heart surgery. She suddenly stopped talking, looked funny, fell to the floor. Chairs crashed. There was general alarm. I thought this was it, that I'd lost her just when the anxiety about her had begun to lift. A famous doctor happened to be eating in Gullifty's. He called an ambulance, took care of her, calmed me, and sent us on our way, saying he thought things would be all right, but that I should have her checked further. She was all right. I never go into Gullifties without reliving that moment. Hilary and I have eaten meals there from time to time, but mostly we've gone in for the award-winning desserts for which they are famous. There are always several kinds of chocolate cakes, many kinds of pies. And ice cream sundaes of all sorts. In FALLEN, the grieving Elizabeth goes to pick up a dinner because she can't force herself to cook anymore. She runs into a neighbor. Nobody knows what to do with her, what to say to her, because her loss—her vital, well-loved husband murdered—is so terrible. More: Gullifty Restaurant Union Grill on Banksville Road—now defunct It had the same wonderful menu as the original place in Oakland which is very much there and thriving in the university community. My niece loves the crab cakes. Frank Razzi goes there in FALLEN. He charms the waitress. He's memorable. Not a good way to hide! Soon after, Christie and Dolan are eating there, on his tail. More: CityGuide Post-Gazette Dining Places the detectives haven't gone yet but will soon . . . Legends: 500 East North Avenue—North Side Hilary and I recently had dinner at a restaurant I refer to in AFTERIMAGE—the one the police reject for Colleen's interview with Hoffman because they think it's going to be too noisy and public. Hilary and I had been missing out on this restaurant because soon after it opened, he went there one night when I was busy and was told they had run out of pasta. He came home grumbling, "An Italian restaurant that runs out of pasta can't be a good thing." But friends assured us it was really good, affordable, a BYOB, and seemed to have no continuing problems with supplies, so we decided to give it a try. A few uniformed police were eating there when we arrived. This seemed a sign that I should put this restaurant in a future novel. I chatted up the uniforms, asked them if they visited Legends often. "First time, but it's good. We had the pizza," said a shy, big young cop. "Everything's good here," people from a neighboring table volunteered. I ate breaded chicken and sautéed greens. Hilary had vodka pasta. "Forgiven," he pronounced at the end of the meal. "It's on our list." More: Legends of the North Shore Murray Avenue Grill: 1720 Murray Avenue—Squirrel Hill One day, Hilary and I decided to have lunch out at the Murray Avenue Grill. It's the kind of place a policeman would like—honest and affordable. Hilary ordered a kettle fried turkey and provolone on croissant (with avocado and a side of fresh fruit) and I got Detective Colleen Greer's default meal (again), grilled chicken on a Greek salad. I've been thinking that when she doesn't have food in the house and goes out for something quick, this is where she would end up, so I'd better know it well. Wholey's; Benkovitz; Roland's Seafood Grill—three places in the Strip district Ron Freeman, my contact on the police force, told me the police often go to Wholey's or Benkovitz for fish sandwiches. Both serve fried fish, with or without potatoes, and always delicious. But, say, the cops want a more serious sit-down meal. And they're already in the strip district. Might they go to Roland's which has been there for a long time? How had Hilary and I never ended up there? We decided to check it out. The place was loud with music—what was it? Rap, disco, some fusion of the two? I asked the waitress who was large and blond and young, as all of her colleagues were. She said the computer allowed them to play just about any CD known to man and what we were hearing was a fusion. A tough, hardy type, she called us honey, dearie. Hilary wanted his tuna rare. She made sure she got it for him. I got catfish, thinking that was a safer bet. The big waitresses moved around the vast place with its many entrees and its endless variety of music available. Hilary kept pressing back from the table. "What are you doing?" "Not enough room for police bellies," he said. "They'd move to a round table." The waitress took a wad of cash from her pocket and went to a side table where a hapless fellow sat. She gave him all her money. Hilary and I watched. We thought she managed to be willfully upbeat during this transaction. "There's a plot," Hilary said. More: Rolands Seafood Grill Soba: 5847 Ellsworth Avenue—Shadyside On June 7, one of our two wedding anniversaries (the one with the priest and the people), we went to Soba, a fusion Spanish Asian restaurant, which we've always found excellent. But would the cops come here? I wondered aloud. And I decided that Colleen and one of her colleagues might have a dinner there on a special date. Or on a really lonely night, Colleen might take herself there alone. If she did, she'd be surrounded by lots of couples, many of them older, crowding the place. "What's the clientele here?" Hilary asked me. "Can you tell?" "Medicine", I said. "Why do you say that?" I shrugged. "Haircuts, clothes, the coupledom. Maybe also some real estate women." We studied them for a while. "No bread here!" Hilary said. "Remember. They don't do bread." Soba is a slenderizing place to go. They're big on fish, but light on the starches. Hilary ordered a martini (said it was excellent) and he also got the tasting menu of four courses. The first course was three tapas, the second a fillet, the third a paella, and the fourth a sorbet. He didn't miss the bread, after all. I got tuna tartare and an Asian cioppino, and chocolate mint truffle and pistachio ice creams. The Soba wine list is pretty impressive; we indulged. Before we left, I asked our waiter about the clientele. "They keep greeting each other as they come in. It's like a club. Who are they?" "Doctors, mostly," he said. "Sometimes they just come in in their scrubs. And we get lots of pharmaceutical types. We put them upstairs where they can make presentations." Hilary looked impressed at my detecting powers. Brian, our waiter, had to take care of a lot of other customers, so I never did find out if the women with the colorful shoes and expensive haircuts sold real estate. So, what will I do with Colleen? If she hangs out here, will she take up with someone in scrubs? I'm thinking about this possibility. More: CitySearch