May the Bard Be with You

Last time, it was for brisket. Tonight, iambic pentameter.

Tonight the Weinstein JCC lured me in, not for food but because they were hosting HenShakes' one night production of "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. Abridged. Revised."

Abridged so we weren't there until our butts fell off. Revised so they could insert topical humor and current references.

Meaning an evening for the intellectually flaccid of 37 plays in 97 minutes by three of Richmond's finest actors: John Mincks, Evan Nasteff and David Janosik, with a whole lot of fake vomiting, sexual references and dramatic dying going on.

Because, you know, all the world's a stage.

They began with a stripped down version of "Romeo and Juliet" that had Romeo saying, "I wanna kiss you, dude" and Juliet waxing poetic with, "That which we call a nose would still smell."

When Romeo begins to muse, saying, "Call me but love," Juliet interrupts with, "Did you call me Butt Love?" Naturally this becomes her new term of endearment, as in, "Parting is such sweet sorrow, Butt Love."

While the three energetic actors spent a whopping twelve minutes on "Romeo and Juliet," they went much briefer on the primitive revenge drama, "Titus Andronicus," which they managed to turn into a cooking show because after a long day of killing, severing and cannibalizing, who really feels like cooking?

Hilarious.

Moving on, the trio discussed whether they should do "Othello" in black face ("Do you want to piss off Tyler Perry?" pause "Kind of"), finally deciding to don sunglasses and rap it while throwing gang signs.

Seeing that time was ticking, they chose to condense all Shakespeare's comedies into one with hysterical results.

David, easily the largest of the three actors, took all the female roles throughout the evening, including the heroine for the mass comedy.

In a blond wig and skirt, he used his most lilting voice to say, "Oh, Father! I am so young and pubescent on this island," as he skipped around the stage.

But in Shakespeare's plays, girls always pretend to be boys and when he/she comes on to our hero, he responds to her as if she's a he. "I swingeth  not that way, boy!" Poor thing, she never realizes she's bi-curious.

Macbeth required the trio to don plaid knickers and adopt thick Scottish accents (very well executed, too), funny enough but the dialog was even better.

I was from my mother's womb untimely ripped.
I support a woman's right to choose.

"Julius Cesar" lasted about 60 seconds before someone decreed, "On to my play," and "Antony and Cleopatra" got underway.

There was another onstage discussion, this time about the lost play "Two Mobile Kinsmen," except not really. That turned out to be "Two Noble Kinsman," one of the plays that is neither comedy, tragedy or history. An obscure play.

The only one of these the trio deemed worth doing was "Troilus and Cressida" because, as Evan said, "It's not crap at all."

He read a synopsis off his phone while David and John did an interpretive dance of the plot that involved wings and getting between Evan's legs.

"Richard II" and "Richard III" were done as a football game, with each taking a turn as the announcer, often sounding a lot like Howard Cosell, and saying things like, "Poisoned on the ten yard line."

There was a penalty for "fictional character on the field" when King Lear put in an appearance and he was disqualified.

They ended with a cheer, yelling, "Henry V, Richard the third, the whole royal family is fricking absurd. Go sports team!"

By now all three were looking pretty sweaty after countless costume changes, much running in and out of the audience and more sword fighting and death scenes than I could keep track of.

As if I was trying. It was enough just to keep up with the rapid fire dialog and shenanigans of the actors.

Then they realized that they still had "Hamlet" to do ("Oh, crap, Hamlet!") and John asks for a summary of it.

"A young prince struggles with his conscience after his uncle kills his Dad." Evan looks at him like he's crazy. "Dude, that's the "Lion King."

Wait a minute...

That's when intermission kicked in but afterwards only John returned. He tried to stall by showing us an index card with all 152 of Shakespeare's sonnets on it, saying Even had told him he couldn't cover them all.

He laid the card on the stage, and laid his hat over it. Covered, done.

The entire second act was given over to "Hamlet" with Horatio being called fellatio and "To sleep, perchance to dream" devolving into, "To sleep, perchance to nap, perchance to snooze, perchance to doze."

During Evan's important "to be or not to be" speech, he broke down about a dilemma on "Full House," a show her admits he's currently watching in reruns.

But it's when David does Hamlet's "Man delights me not" soliloquy that you could have heard a pin drop in the room, his voice and perfect diction feeding the soul of every Shakespeare lover in the room.

A volunteer was plucked from the audience (and called Bob despite her name being Julia) to do the screaming of Ophelia's id, but the audience was soon asked to join her in a group scream-a-thon.

Of course, David played Ophelia and to play her drowning scene, threw a cup of water in his face.

As you may already know, all did not end well there, either. That's why they call it a tragedy.

Just when the last of Shakespeare's plays had ended, the actors got even sillier.

First they did a two minute version of "Hamlet." Then a 30 second version.

Then, perhaps most brilliantly, a backwards version, with the classic line, "Be to not or be to?"

Moving backwards, undying and, yes, Ophelia spitting water out of her mouth to un-drown.

"You thank!" they yelled to the standing ovation the audience gave them.

Effort fine damn, gentlemen. Truly one for the books.

Abridged and revised. I definitely swingeth that way.

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.

Save the (Jewish) Delis!

I don't want to alarm you, but we've got a Jewish deli crisis. To give you an idea of the scale of the problem, in 1930 there were 1500 kosher delis in NYC; today there are two dozen. The cultural institution known as the corner deli is on the brink of extinction. This means the places that serve the best brisket, corned beef and pastrami will be no more. Are you concerned yet?

Well, luckily author David Sax was and after much research, has written a book, "Saving the Deli: In Search of Perfect Pastrami, Crusty Rye and the Heart of Jewish Deli." Sax was at the JCC tonight for a deli dinner and to talk about the rise and fall of delis and what we'll lose if they do all go away, namely the properly seasoned and cured meats they are known for, along with chopped liver, knishes and matzoh ball soup. Sax called delis the best ambassadors for Jewish culture in the U.S.

In addition to Sax's talk, we enjoyed a delicious meal of homemade corned beef sandwiches, sliced thick, on freshly baked rye bread. Along side that we had potato knishes, cole slaw, potato salad, a relish tray (sauerkraut, deli pickles and pickled tomatoes) and, for desert, apple strudel. Any good Jewish mother would have approved of the meal; she would also have beamed at me eating every bite and going back for seconds on the potato salad. The corned beef was sublime, the rye bread had a wonderful flavor and even New Yorker Sax had only raves for the knishes.

Sax asked if we had a Chinatown in RVA and the audience said no. "What's a large ethnic group you have here then?" he asked. A quick member of the audience answered, "WASPs," which was a group not much represented at this event (they did let a lapsed Catholic heathen like me in, though). The crowd had a very high percentage of people from Brooklyn and they knew from delis. When asked about the nearest real Jewish deli for Richmonders, Sax said it was Route 58 Deli in Virginia Beach and enough people in the audience nodded approvingly to sanction his opinion.

We're going to have to move the whales to the back burner, I'm afraid and get busy saving the delis before meals like I just had don't exist any more. A pastrami sandwich from Subway is not a pastrami sandwich. Or, to paraphrase Milton Berle, "Every time someone puts corned beef on white bread, somewhere a Jew dies."