Bistro on Main has been part of Kent for so long it’s hard to remember a time without it.
Since opening in 2003, the family-run restaurant has kept the town’s busy crowd well fed. Family touches every part of the operation. Brothers Mark and Joe Wise work the line under owner and head chef Aaron Ruggles, with Ruggles’ son Aiden stepping in as a cook, as well. General Manager Christa Gleason has been with the team for more than 20 years. Independently owned restaurants that have been around a while develop a lived-in, welcome-home feel that just can’t be replicated in chains, and that is something the Bistro is very proud of.
My name is Simon Varner. I’m a cook and writer with a passion for local food, and every month I’ll take a look inside the kitchens that keep Portage County fed and speak with the people behind the swinging doors. This month, I’m visiting Bistro on Main.
Feb. 16, just a couple days after Valentine’s Day, my wife and I parked beneath a pine tree in the gravel lot behind the restaurant. Walking in, we passed a smoker the size of a small car, and piled next to it, enough firewood to warm a house for the winter. The smell of sizzling beef fat prompted us to walk even faster to the door. I knew we were in for something good.
We walked in to find our table. A lightly gloomy day showed itself through the window, which when mixed with the red hanging lights of the bistro, created a cozy glow. We invited my parents along for the meal. When the waitress welcomed us and asked for drinks, I ordered a briny gin-martini. My mom would be my drinking buddy today, ordering the same for herself. My wife, nearly full term now, happily stuck with a Coke.
To start, we ordered blistered shishito peppers and lobster egg rolls. Though the world just outside the window was dreary, we were determined to eat like it was spring. The egg rolls were packed with cream cheese and lobster, fried crisp and served with a peach sweet and sour sauce.
The peppers came out beautiful, served with a ginger sauce. I ate with my hands, holding the stems, and enjoyed the peppers as if they were fresh from the garden. Shishito peppers are fun, if you’ve never had them, because about one in 10 are actually quite spicy. We laughed each time a pepper was spicy and were sweating by the end of the bowl.
This type of cooking is what makes Ruggles stand out: elevated but approachable food that comforts instead of intimidates.
“We tried to bring a little piece of California back with us,” he said.
With upscale food and cocktails, the restaurant balances casual and refined dining.
“We go from a great $8 burger on Monday to Chilean sea bass or seared scallops on the weekend,” Ruggles said.
Ruggles’ path to the kitchen wasn’t straight. After high school, he joined the Navy, an experience he said gave him “the confidence and the kick in the butt” he needed. He eventually landed in seafood restaurants out west, building his technique.
“I liked what I did,” he told me, “but I got tired of doing it for somebody else.”
So he came back home to Kent and built something of his own. The result is a menu that lets him have fun without losing sight of the food that people want to eat. A place where he can cook creatively while still impressing the regulars from Kent's car strip.
When the entrees arrived, the table filled quickly. Two pizzas sat on stands to keep the hot plates off of the table, and beneath the pizza canopy were two more mains. One, the smoked meatloaf, and the other a salmon filet over orzo.
The first pizza was the special of the day: a chicken bacon ranch topped with green onion and parsley that was deeply satisfying. The second pizza was called the Spicy Sicilian, which was loaded with Italian sausage and soppressata salami. All of the pizzas are hand tossed in the kitchen, and the attention to detail is evident in every bite.
The smoked meatloaf was a must-get after passing by the smoker on our way in. It arrived tender and juicy, covered in a smoky-sweet glaze. It was served with hefty glazed carrots and mashed potatoes.
When talking with the chef, he actually let me know that the salmon I ordered has been on the menu since day one. In fact, they have attempted to remove the dish when experimenting with changing up the menu through the years, but the backlash was so dramatic they had to bring it back. I can understand why. Cooked medium-rare, the fillet came out moist and delicate with a balsamic drizzle. It was served over top of orzo, a delicate short pasta that I have always been a sucker for. Surrounding the dish was spinach, which appeared to be flash fried to achieve a texture that shattered in your mouth like glass, then melted away – perhaps my new favorite way to eat the leafy green.
When we talked about the menu, Ruggles described a philosophy for his food.
“My new favorite thing is minimalist cooking,” he said. “You get down to five or six ingredients and get a great outcome without covering everything up. Let the product speak for itself.”
This attitude drives him and the team to give attention to the entire menu.
“If you get our $8 burger or a $50 ribeye on the weekend, we are putting the same amount of time into it,” said Ruggles.
We couldn’t leave without dessert. From the specials menu, my wife and I ordered the white chocolate cheese cake. My parents shared the pot de creme. The cheese cake was dense and rich, brightened by a raspberry sauce. The pot de creme, which is a velvety custard dish usually flavored with chocolate, was served in a porcelain ramekin and topped with whipped cream.
After more than two decades, Bistro on Main’s approach to hospitality seems to be working. I may not actually be royalty, but I trust that I would have gotten the same treatment if I had walked in wearing a crown. This matters to the staff at Bistro.
“I’ve been saying for years, we’re a theater,” Ruggles said. “My curtain goes up at four o’clock, and I have new guests coming in. Some have seen the play a thousand times, and for some, it’s their first time in. And we have to equally impress everyone there.”
We boxed up our leftovers and headed back to the car. The paper receipt in my pocket felt less like a bill and more like a ticket stub. I would love to see that show again.