Jewish Anniversary Sex

Eat Jewish food
Sleep in a Christian bed
Wear Muslim clothing

That was only one of the many lessons I learned at the Encyclopedia of Jewish Food dinner that I attended at the JCC tonight, but then I had a lot to learn on the topic, being an Irish (lapsed) Catholic and all.

And no, for change, I wasn't solo; my date was one of my blog readers who'd contacted me and suggested that we meet up and enjoy the dinner and lecture together. Write a blog! Meet new people!

Between the charming company, trying new foods and (because I am a nerd) the interesting stuff I learned in the lecture/cooking demonstration, I had a terrific time.

Dinner began with the Romanian vegetable stew Guvetch and, given the Romanian propensity to put garlic in everything, I loved this dish. The woman on the other side of me picked out her cooked carrots (she only likes them raw) and I so wanted to fish them out of her bowland eat them, but thought better of it.

As we were eating the stew, author Gil Marks began a demonstration of making Keftes (Sepahardic leek patties), telling the audience that "the best implement in the kitchen is the human hand." My Southern grandmother would have agreed with him.

Next up was Fesenjan (Persian chicken with pomegranates and walnuts), fidellos tostados (Sepahardic toasted noodles) and the Keftes de Prasa that Marks had just shown us how to make. I was particularly fond of the onion, pomegranate and walnut mixture in the chicken's broth.

My non-Jewishness became glaringly apparent when the event's photographer came around to take a picture of our table. Someone suggested we have it taken bar mitzvah-style and still I sat in my seat.

Only when told did I understand that I needed to get up and stand behind the people on the other side of the table. Let's hope the picture doesn't reveal my cluelessness.

As we were nibbling Middle Eastern filled cookies (the iced anise was delicious), Marks went on to talk about the Americanization of Jewish food.

Once Jews began making some of their foodstuffs for sale, their best customers, he said, were the pioneers headed west and looking for well-preserved, long-lasting foods. Matzohs in covered wagons; who knew?

I had warned my date that I had a commitment immediately after the dinner lecture, so I said my goodbye and headed to the Listening Room's one-year anniversary performance. As one of the 95 people who came to the very first LR show, I was not going to miss tonight's music.

The LR is put on by the Foundry, a collective of musicians and artists who make it all happen every month. Appropriately, three members of that group were also tonight's first band, Jonathan Vassar and the Speckled Bird.

Despite having seen them perform many, many times over the past three years, tonight's show was something special. It came across as especially emotional and even songs I've heard before had been fine-tuned and seemed to hold fresh nuances.

And oh yes, Antonia did her legendary vox saw and even husband Jonathan acknowledged that he has no idea how she makes that amazing sound ("I tried once in the shower and it sounded like a dying rabbit.")

Favorite lyric: Think of me. I know that you know who I am.

Psalmships from Philly was next and singer/songwriter Josh told us that his band hadn't been able to make it. It didn't matter; his four-string guitar playing and distinctive voice delivered a noteworthy set.

He praised RVA, saying, "I don't really know what's going on in Richmond, but if Jonathan Vassar and Horsehead are any indication, you need to block the gates." I loved hearing that an out-of-towner recognized what a great scene we have here.

Favorite lyric: You can't get here fast enough. I will swim to you."

Horsehead played last and I had seen them do an acoustic set at Six Burner a while back, although they acknowledged that they're an electric band. They were very polished, very tight musically and the crowd really liked them.

They deviated from their set list only once, to play a new song about stalking...told from the stalker's perspective. "Hate me if you will," the lead singer said admitting that it was the first such song he knew of. He's undoubtedly right about that, but the audience found humor in the song.

Lead guitarist Kevin was a pleasure to watch from my front row seat; his talented musicianship and beautiful harmonies were the set's highlight for me.

I might add that both he and the bass player had a dimple, a surprisingly high dimple ratio for a four-piece band (I notice this kind of thing only because I have dimples myself).

Tonight's show ran unusually long for the Listening Room (not that anyone was complaining, mind you), but not so late that I couldn't head over to Republic afterwards with a couple of friends for a show about sex.

The inimitable Prabir Mehta was playing a show all about sex with his partner in crime (and symphony violinist) Treesa Gold. There were booty bags and condoms being handed out. And why was I there?

Not because I like Republic cause I don't (Andrew and I went one time and permanently crossed it off our list). Everyone in the place smokes, so we reeked after being in there for a relatively short time. And the crowd is, well, the crowd wouldn't like me.

But Prabir and Treesa are friends and talented musicians and I was curious to see what kind of hilarity would ensue. Would they even be able to keep straight faces?

It was totally worth it. Treesa rapped (yes, really) and as Prabir's brother noted, "That's the whitest thing I ever heard in my life." Her husband cringed and fortified himself with many Bass Ales (he also shot video, it should be noted).

When the smoke and annoying people finally got to us, we left, but just as we stepped outside, I heard the first few notes of the Divinyls' masterfully metaphoric "I Touch Myself." There was no way I could walk away from that.

On the side of the building, I slowly opened the door that faces the stage so we had our own private viewing area. The three of us watched as Prabir and Treesa tore it up.

At the end, Prabir glanced over at us with a look of pure sheepishness. Treesa beamed.

Keftes with a reader, four-string guitars and dimples, booty bags and self-pleasuring. This may have been a Tuesday night for the books.