Worm Salt and Hard-Working Men

It was like a moment from the 1950s, right here in Jackson Ward.

There I was, eating my dinner surrounded by men, listening to records on the stereo and flipping through Betty Crocker's New Good and Easy Cookbook.

After a day spent playing catch-up, talking to a bouzouki player in Newfoundland and writing about the Spanish civil war, I put myself together and walked down the street to Saison, where I found nothing but the opposite sex.

Pointing out to the bartender that one of these things was not like the other, he arched an eyebrow and asked if I had a problem with it.

I did not.

Part of my motivation to come had been that it was vinyl night (although I'd been too lazy to bring a contribution myself), but, as it turned out, I also made tequila happy hour.

I am helpless in the face of half-priced tequila, even more so given what was already on the turntable: English post-punk band The Sound.

Espolon blanco in hand, I was now ready to consider some eats.

Fried corn with cayenne and gusano salt (you know, salt blended with desiccated caterpillar) gave me a spicy accompaniment to my Espolon and I followed that with greens.

Pickled fig salad with country ham, arugula, orange sections and toasted black walnuts gave me some sweet to go with the salty this time.

My menu had come in a book of old Virginia photographs, but the guy next to me got his in a far more fabulous book.

That's right, I had to ask to look at Betty Crocker's New Good and Easy Cookbook, a spiral-bound classic from 1954.

It was such a fascinating cultural snapshot, I barely even made small talk for a while.

Well, except to say, ooh, look at this menu for morning meal at the ranch! Ranch?

Or, check out this recipe for snow-capped franks (mashed potato and bacon on split hot dogs).

There was an entire section on homey, hearty, happy lunches.

The guys around me found it hysterical.

You don't even want to know where the conversation went once I told them about the menu labeled "lunch for a hard-working man."

You can be sure that the man wasn't making it.

The most interesting thing to me was how dependent the cookbook was on convenience foods- boxed cake mixes, instant mashed potatoes, cream of chicken soup, Bisquick and yet, there was a whole section of recipes on variety meats.

That's right, Betty told you how to make crispy fried livers, stuffed veal heart, tongue, broiled lamb kidneys, even liver and bacon patties.

Thank god there was no recipe fro snow-capped veal heart.

The book closed with a chapter on "fourth meals" also known as snacks, emphasizing how important they were.

Don't I know it. I'm having a snack fourth meal of bacon even as I type this.

While I was taking my trip down culinary memory lane, a guy came in with a newer album to share, one I knew, "In Guards We Trust" and the music shifted from 1985 to 2013.

Unfortunately, I wasn't going to be around at the end of the night to see what else came in and which customer's album was ultimately the staff pick, winning its owner gift certificates to Saison and Steady Sounds.

Like the guy sitting immediately to my left, I couldn't linger anymore because I had to get going to the Listening Room.

Back after a summer hiatus, it seemed like ages since I'd been to the Firehouse for music.

My first order of business was telling a friend how I'd been out at a restaurant when his father recognized me from the Listening Room and spoke to me.

And, no, we'd never met.

From there I reserved my usual seat and began making the rounds to mingle among the familiar and new faces.

The puppet master sat in front of me, the scientist had on his bowtie, the DJ had a drink in both hands and my neighbors brought warm cheesecake bars.

First up was James Harris Moore, from Nashville we were told and now living in Charlottesville.

He was a long, tall drink of water with a shock of curly hair, orange shoe laces and a good voice.

After a couple of songs, he made the inevitable comments about the quiet room. "This is a good challenge for me. I'm used to playing bars where people ignore me."

I get so twisted up sleeping next to you
Wondering what I'm going to be

He talked about songwriting, how sometimes songs come in 15 minutes while others take years to finish.

How sometimes writers get stuck, as he had, and find inspiration in unlikely places, for him a photography book.

For one song, he got all Andrew Bird on us, whistling the melody beautifully.

After thanking us for being good listeners ("Good job! I was afraid you'd forgotten since it's been a while"), he got to his last song.

"The next one's not mine but I love it anyway," he said, launching into a haunting cover of "Moon River."

It was the very best kind of cover, where the artist makes it his own and it was a stellar ending to his set.

Tonight's second act was, as host Chris said, a man who needed no introduction. "He's the godfather of the Listening Room."

Jonathan Vassar was the man who'd originally conceived of the Listening Room and he talked briefly about where it had come from and how the new crew was ably handling it since he and his lovely wife had had a baby.

He began with "Catch Me If You Can" before telling the audience that he had a cold and he was starving it.

Apparently his friend Will had told him cold or fever, the best thing to do was drown it.

We got to hear several songs from his days with local super group Ophelia, including the brilliantly worded, "$10 says I'm Broke" inspired when a friend wouldn't loan him money for a sandwich on the bus back from NYC.

That's harsh.

Jonathan is known for his spare, sad songs, the kind that mention things like Bethlehem Steel, hard-drinking women and the Bay Bridge.

After a few, he felt the need to qualify himself to any newcomers in the crowd, saying, "These songs are not about my family. I'm happily married with an 8-month old who's just about to start crawling. My brother-in-law shot video of him today."

Just when he was about to completely destroy his aching troubadour image for the newbies, he came to. " Of course, the more you have, the more you have to lose."

That's our Jonathan.

He dedicated "Bakersfield" to all the guys in Ophelia there tonight.

Reaching for the wrong harmonica for "Oklahoma Rose," he said, "I saw Kris Kristofferson this summer and he grabbed the wrong harmonica and if he can get the wrong one..."

He closed with "Drive," a song from his upcoming album and his set of beautiful and melancholy songs ended.

Ah, Listening Room #42, a recipe for a homey, hearty and happy evening.