![]() ![]() Chase absolutely ADORES Elisabeth (she is his favorite Gymboree teacher) and he lit up when he saw her and couldn’t wait to show her his “cahs” and race them all over the house. When everyone was up again, we hung out at home, snacked on smoothies and watched some football until our wonderful babysitter Elisabeth arrived to watch Chase for the evening. Once I was done, we all headed off to Discovery Place Kids where we met up with my friends Carrie and Alexis and their families and spent the rest of the morning watching the little ones cause a ruckus and have a blast.īy the time we made it home, Chase was in need of a nap and the guys decided that sounded like a great idea, too! After lunch, while everyone took an afternoon rest, I showered, worked on blog stuff and caught up on my small group Bible study for Monday night. The baked oatmeal did a decent job of fueling me through my own workout after the guys returned. On Saturday morning, we started our day the sweaty way! Ryan and his dad took off for a father/son workout at the gym first thing in the morning while I got Chase dressed and ready for the day and whipped up a batch of peanut butter baked steel cut oatmeal for everyone for breakfast. Greg flew in town from Bradenton, Florida late Thursday morning and ever since he arrived we’ve filled our time with lots of good food, outside playtime at the park (it was in the 70s on Friday!), exploration and relaxation. But speak softly.įor more intoxicating info, visit thecellaratduckworths.This weekend was a celebratory one for the Fagan family! We had a very special 70th birthday to celebrate on Sunday and spent the weekend trying our best to make Ryan’s dad feel extra loved and special. Tell your friends of Ron and his almost-secret cellar. It’s meant to be discussed openly, this sanctuary where all are welcome. A refuge from the troubles and tribulations of the big city, The Cellar at Duckworth’s isn’t exclusive. ![]() Behind that imposing wooden door, in the heart of this brickwalled den, is a place where people can enjoy themselves. “Behind the stick I have the ability to create an infinite amount of flavors and really take people away from their worries and concerns for a while.” That’s the primary goal at Ron’s bar, as in any speakeasy. Somehow, Ron Oleksa’s folks had always thought he’d be a chef, but Ron, a self-professed lover of Charlotte’s ever-evolving cuisines, fell in love with the bar’s fundamental ability to comfort. ![]() He’s a proponent of the prevailing artistic elevation of the Charlotte cocktail, seeking to educate everyone’s palate on “the abundance of flavors and styles available.” Like the post-Prohibition, liberated mixologists of yesteryear, Ron Oleksa is reeducating the drinking public. “Every region does have it’s own unique palate,” stresses Ron, “and it is important to take that into account when creating a menu.” Luckily for Ron and the other beverage wizards in the city, Charlotte’s collective preference often welcomes guidance. Due to owner Rob Duckworth’s receptive and encouraging management, Ron is at liberty to craft whatever he thinks works, whatever the legions of Charlotte cocktail lovers need at any given time. Now, at The Cellar, Ron’s creativity runs into fewer limitations than ever. A job that was initially meant to help with school costs became a sort of schooling in itself: Ron started playing around with concoctions, and found that the bar afforded him a creativity he’d not yet encountered. at a young age, Ron was first exposed to cocktails during what was, at that time, a fledgling Charlotte mixology scene. ![]() Transplanted to the city from Washington, D.C. Ron Oleksa’s been behind your Charlotte bars for over 25 years. At the head of this rebirth is Head Mixologist Ron Oleksa, a man whose cocktail mastery also desperately needs to be talked about. The speakeasy concept seemingly died with the 21st Amendment, but The Cellar, hidden beneath Rob Duckworth’s newest in a line of taphouses, is resurrecting the secret-but-ostentatious, underground cocktail bar right here in the Queen City. These havens were secrets, not to be discussed, but their lavish exclusivity begged to be talked about. The “speakeasy” was so called because its existence had to be discussed softly, quietly, and rarely in public, so as not to alert neighbors or the authorities. Prohibition of alcoholic beverages, that most dire of American eras, fostered the most secluded of drinking spots. ![]()
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