Andrew Ross

3 weeks ago | the-high-route.com | Andrew Ross

For those with Marker Alpinist bindings, and suffering from heel riser breakdown, Tahoe Trail Tools Heel Up! riser could punch your ticket to binding longevity, smooth riser function, and higher risers. The Tahoe Trail Tools Heel Up! riser performs as advertised: it increases Marker Alpinist riser heights by 12mm in both medium and high modes, making the binding easier to tour on steep skin tracks. It was as easy to install as the manufacturer claims; if I can do it, you can, too.

2 months ago | pressherald.com | Andrew Ross

Editor’s Note: Former Portland Press Herald restaurant critic Andrew Ross wrote his last review in January. He is making a return appearance for our annual Best 75 feature. > Portland isn’t a big city. Expand outwards to include the entire metropolitan region, and Greater Portland still winds up with a population barely larger than Amish country. And yet, we’ve built an outsized reputation for food.

Jan 2, 2025 | pressherald.com | Andrew Ross

When I interviewed Jordan Rubin two years ago, he asked me to keep a secret. Call it terrible timing on my part, but days after we chatted about the previous version of Mr. Tuna, Rubin messaged me. On the QT, he let me know about his plans to decamp from his sushi restaurant’s transitional-feeling space at the Public Market…the same spot I had just recommended in a well-earned, four-star review.

Dec 25, 2024 | pressherald.com | Andrew Ross

Some cafes have tip jars; some families have swear jars. I think Magissa needs a joke jar. Not for just any old groaner, but for the wisecrack I heard repeated from two opposite ends of the newly renovated Anderson St. space during my recent visit. The first: from a jolly older man who bore a striking resemblance to Santa. Seated at the rear of the taverna-style Greek restaurant, in one of the inviting “stucco snug” booths, he struggled to pronounce the name of the red wine he wanted to order.

Dec 18, 2024 | pressherald.com | Andrew Ross

On my first day of my first restaurant job, I pulled a red Pizza Inn apron over my neck, tied it in the back and asked what my first task was. Would I be shredding cheese, slicing bell peppers on a mandolin or rolling dough? Maybe something necessary but less exciting, like mopping a walk-in refrigerator? None of these, it emerged. “I want you to watch the pizzas bake,” my manager said, chuckling at my eagerness and positioning me at the end of a languid conveyor belt oven.