The Teaser...

By the way, my interview with Michael Ruhlman (The Soul of a Chef) - one that I stuttered through for twenty minutes - is up at Chicagoist. Thursday, an extensive interview with Alinea's Grant Achatz goes live. Both subjects were very entertaining and candid. Digg 'em, Del.ici.ous 'em, recommend them all.

Look Who Popped Up in Beijing!!!!

It's my favorite Ultimate-playing, Oberlin-educated physics major, and one of many who kept HotHouse from imploding in the immediate weeks after the board suspended Marguerite Horberg.

Brady's fiance Peggy won an Oppenheimer Fellowship (I think), and the man - God Bless him - quit HotHouse, packed up his shit, and left to be with her. I received an e-mail from him yesterday, catching me up on things in China and pointing me to his and Peggy's blogs. She's taken to the medium a bit better than he, but they're both worth a perusal. I watched Brady grow up, from a student living in a collective in Hyde Park and part-time janitor, to a true leader of people. One of Marguerite's assets is that she recognized the talent of those around her, and utilized it to its fullest. Few epitomized this more than Brady. Peggy seems to perfectly complement him. It makes me remember why I miss them.

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Creole cuisine is one of my mainstays for dinner parties and barbecues, so I was surprised when I found out about this article on New Orleans cuisine, post-Katrina, from the January issue of GQ (I found out about it thanks to Harry Shearer's "Le Show" podcast via KCRW). Alan Richman has written one of the most ill-conceived hack pieces in recent memory. It largely ignores fact, refutes Creole as a legitimate cuisine style, and reinforces many of the prejuidices and outright lies northerners have of the South and New Orleans (Mr. Richman would be wise to remember that many of the reasons he doesn't like New Orleans are attributed to the bad behavior of tourists. Northern tourists).

This article stands as an example for all writers, regardless of medium, on how to not go writing about a subject. It also reminds me of something Flannery O'Connor wrote about Southern Gothic, one of my favorite literary styles. O'Connor wrote, "anything that comes out of the South is going to be called grotesque by the northern reader, unless it is grotesque, in which case it is going to be called realistic." This is the main point that Richman fails to recognize and largely ignores in his article.

You Ever Have a Week You Were Just Glad Was Over?

This was one of those weeks. From stupid mistakes in writing, to the flu, to Mom's hip replacement surgery, to the sleet that's coming down right now, it's just been a week I'd rather forget. Sure, there were some highlights, like the stripper who came to HotHouse Tuesday night to celebrate her birthday by taking in Motep's "Soul Sessions" series (and if you don't know about Motep, you need to). She was fun, especially when she took the stage during William Kurk's set, announced that she and her girlfriends were the "finest bitches on the South Side", got in a plug for their place of employment (Cowboys Gentleman's Club in Markham, for the curious), let loose a lingering fart in front of the guitarist just before I escorted her off stage to her handler "Blu", and used her goldmine to make it rain on a cameraman's face.

Oh, and she gave me a package check, too.

So after a week of insomnia and illness, I was finally healthy enough to go out. So Sue (who was pissed at her roommate for not telling her about their clogged bathtub drain) and I braved the sleet and headed to Bernice's for metal night and cheap beer. That's when the other highlight of the week occurred, in the form of our bartender, who came in lit up like a Christmas tree jamming to "Bitchin' Camaro" by the Dead Milkmen, drinking jager bombs, and telling us that she thought "Crash" was a comedy when she first saw it. I wouldn't know, preferring the serious drama of "This is Spinal Tap" and "Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle." I thought getting Sue out of the house would be enough to get her to vent, but we were both just too tired to do anything but watch Iron maiden videos and stare incredulously at Mary Beth whenever she opened her mouth.

My only other experience with a bartender named Mary Beth is, well, Mary Beth Puffer (now of Mitchell's, formerly Puffer's). She takes what I like to call a "scorched earth" policy to tending a bar. You know in "It's a Wonderful Life" when Clarence grants George his wish that he never was born, and Bedford Falls turns into Pottersville? Remember that scene where they go to Martini's, except it's now Nick's Place, and Nick is a jackass who "serves hard drinks here for folks who want to get drunk fast" and doesn't have room for "folks with character?" That's Mary Beth Puffer, except she's not giving out wings after throwing George and Clarence out on their asses, and wishing that her shift would end so she can "stop dealing with these jagoffs."

But she grows on you. And so does this Mary Beth at Bernice's. Hell, Bernice's grows on you. The put up a sign at the request of the 11th ward office, indicating that it was, indeed a bar. But you still need to get buzzed in. And when you do, you either drink Miller, Bud, or any of a handful of Lithuanian and Czech beers that don't taste good when they warm up, if you're the type of person who nurses a beer. But they have Metal and Punk night on Saturdays, for fuck's sake. And they have a sizable number of ex-Puffer's regulars. It's a dive, and a good one, at that. It's what the Skylark wished they could be.

And now, I'm off to get a new start to hopefully a better week.

With eight hours of sleep.

A Chick Music Weekend

It just seems like the time of year and weather are cooperating enough for me to really get into the new releases by Patty Griffin and Lucinda Williams. That's not to say that I'm feeling remorse or melancholy, at least no more than usual. But there's a lot of time between work and other things for me to give these records multiple plays. These are two of America's best songwriters, regardless of gender.

Williams' "West" follows the same template since her breakthrough with "Car Wheels on a Gravel Road" nearly ten years ago (Jesus! Has it been that long?) The production is sparse and the music is lean and muscular, which lends itself to the immediacy of Williams' songs, following the pattern established by "Car Wheels'" follow-up, "Essence." Since the 2004 release of "World Without Tears", Williams has endured the death of her mother and the breakup of a relationship (the latter seems to be a running theme throughout her albums). And though interviews indicate she's completing the healing process, the two events inform the lyrics throughout the album. With songs like "Come On!" and "Unsuffer Me", Williams gives Emmylou Harris a run for her money as the Queen of Remorse.

Meanwhile, Griffin achieves her own artistic breakthrough with "Children Running Through", which is even more solid track-by-track to 2004's "Impossible Dream." Known more as a master songwriter than a singer (the Dixie Chicks owe a large debt of their success to Griffin's songs) she's steadily become more comfortable with her voice over the years, combining soulful gospel with Bruce Springsteen's more countryesque leanings into a style that's all her own. Griffin's voice is front and center on "Children Running Through", from the opening torch of "You'll Remember", to the Stax/Muscle Shoals send-up "Stay on the Ride", to the gospel touches on "Heavenly Day" and "Up From the Mountain (MLK Song)", a song given a second authoritative take by Solomon Burke on his "Nashville" album. "Children Running Through" cements Griffin's arrival as a performer of serious merit. She won't be known as just a songwriter anymore.

'Round the Corner

Words of wisdom from The Office's Dwight Schrute:

"Whenever I get ready to do something I think to myself, 'Would an idiot do that?' And if they would, I do not do that thing."

Following that, Dwight unwittingly sets loose a bat in the Dundler Mifflin offices.

Luaka Bop records is finally available on eMusic. I'm so stoked for this. David Byrne's label, dedicated to releasing the best cosmopolitan music from the Americas and beyond, is the home to such reknowned artists as Susana Baca, Zap Mama, Tom Ze, Os Mutantes, and Los Amigos Invisibles. Luaka Bop also released the second greatest album reissue ever (next to Iggy Pop's remastered "Raw Power"), Shuggie Otis' "Inspiration Information." I'm a confessed eMusic junkie. This only furthers the craving. The curious and cynical can get a taste of the Luaka Bop experience by sampling from their jukebox.

For those of you who enjoyed the Doug Zell interview at Chicagoist this week, stay tuned. One of my chief goals with the food/drink beat when I accepted the beat editor position was to place a focus on interviews. I didn't think we'd get such a quick start to it. We've got two more interviews in the works, one of 'em's big.

Real big. As in, "Face it, Tiger, you just hit the jackpot" big.

Like I said, stay tuned. The year of the Squeaky Wheel is in full swing.