From the moment you enter the austere and tragically hip Konqrete Fuud Centre, you will be swept away by its passionate serenity. Cloisterlike in its stillness, the restaurant’s concrete walls, floor, ceiling, and accoutrements express a deep civility and liberating blankness. There are only eight tables in the 1,200 square foot room, each a lacquered slab of concrete sparsely surrounded by utterly tasteful concrete stumps. The ambience promotes the intense focus of savasana without the relaxation. One does not lounge at the KFC as much as one perches, aware and yet ineffably calm.

Ben and Winslow have returned, at least for now. And Winslow’s been growing a whole lot of bamboo!

We’ve all heard horror stories about small town medical practices.  I guess I got off lucky. I grew up in the 1950s in Frederick, Maryland, at the time a town of fewer than 20,000 people. I never had to go to the local orthopedist, a man nicknamed “Wrong Knee” or had a colonoscopy performed by that doctor who kept his patients awake and just had them lean over a sawhorse to let the scoping begin. Things were a little dicier for me, though, in the dental arena.