Leaping into the Jonny Z Fest

Here's the beauty of the annual Jonny Z Fest.

It's a tribute to a guy who gave back to the community.

It's small, only one city block long. It's full of talented folks selling their wares. It's got local music.

And I always run into scads of people I know, inevitably including some I haven't seen in far too long.

Even with two brief bursts of rain, the enthusiasm of the crowd couldn't be dampened.

In fact, most of us agreed that the raindrops felt pretty wonderful.

I bought a bag of fresh figs from City Garden, all but four of which disappeared before I got home.

Fig season is to be savored and I find it hard to use restraint.

Allison Self was providing the big voice that filled the block with her vintage Americana sound accompanied by ukulele.

She said later that she was sweating like mad but it didn't show in her beautiful singing.

There were several vintage clothing booths, including one that had a plaid cotton bathing suit circa 1950, the old-school kind my grandmother wore until her dying day.

To do my part, I bought Art 180 raffle tickets to support their worthwhile cause.

If I should win something, that would just be gravy.

I stopped by the Richmond Zine Fest table to talk to a friend and ended up making a donation (I go to the Zine Fest every year anyway) and walking away with the work of another friend, "Manifesto, Baby: Poems by Liz Canfield."


madam, a pair of silk stockings is not a leap into space
what people did they are going to do
~from "Surrealist Manifesto (Andre Breton, 1924)"


Lamplighter had a cart and I tasted their ginger snap iced tea which honestly tasted just like a ginger snap, pungent and sweet.

Stopping at a vegan cupcake and doughnut table, I was treated to mini- chocolate cake donuts to die for.

They had chocolate icing and chocolate sprinkles.

I'm not going vegan in this lifetime, but those little donuts were damn good.

Maybe the cosmos heard my rant about cake donuts the other day and provided.

I ran into a book store friend and got his thoughts on a book I'd been considering reading for months.

The last time I'd checked with him, he hadn't gotten into it but today he wanted to share his thoughts as a reader.

"Night of the Hunter," here I come.

After three passes through to make sure I saw everything I wanted to and everyone (countless musicians, tons of restaurant people, DJs, gallery people, wine reps, music lovers) I knew, I was finished.

Satisfied, I left, only to run into the Boka Truck tucked away on Hanover Avenue.

What was this?

Seems that they'd been coming back from the St. Stephens Market and happened on the festival. Dumb luck.

They weren't part of the plan, but the organizer invited them to stay after spotting their truck.

But after a busy morning at the market, they were about out of several items, so I was going to be the last customer of the day I was told.

Looking at their brunch menu, my choice was made in a nanosecond: duck egg taco with Chorizo, cheese, onion, cilantro and Sriracha sauce.

When I asked, owner Patrick said that the duck eggs were from Tan-A and often came with feathers on them.

That was good enough for me.

We chatted about the people at that market, how incredibly busy they'd been and how much prep he was going to have to do come Monday to make up for selling out of so many things.

And he wasn't kidding about me being the last customer.

Moments before my taco was finished, he started up the truck in order to make a quick getaway after handing off to me.

When he gave me my plate, I thanked him for letting me be the last and started to leave with my impressive-looking plate of food.

"Wait, Karen!" he called. "Take napkins. You're going to need them when that yolk breaks."

He wasn't kidding. That big yolk oozed its rich goodness over everything and provided a dipping sauce for the whole taco (I wanted to say enchilada).

I wanted to lick the plate when I finished, but licking a paper plate isn't aesthetically satisfying.

Not that anyone I knew at the Jonny Z Fest would have judged me for it.

What people did, they are going to do.

Or not do.