It was neighborhood joint night, so I met up with two friends at Bistro 27 and, somehow we outlasted every one else in the place.
But it wasn't just another night at 27, because the menu was recently updated and now there were all kinds of new things on the menu to taste.
Regulars like me love to see things get shaken up and, let's face it, Carlos does everything so well...except my name (on purpose - tonight I was Clara).
In my continuing quest to eat like a lumberjack, I had already decided to go the entree route rather than my usual apps/salad/soup, which was a shame because there were so many tempting new appetizers: crevettes Mediterranees, rillettes of duck, duck and pork pate, baba ganoush and hummus plate, duck and lentil salad and one of my favorites, sweetbreads.
In a perfect world, I would have gotten a couple bites of each, but instead shared the baba ganoush and Hummus Plate with olives.
We all agreed that both spreads were outstanding and sure to be ordered again. The rillettes of duck was another big hit taste-wise.
I ordered the rib-eye, only to be told that the delivery guy hadn't been in, so they were substituting a N.Y. Strip.
Since my goal was meat and potatoes, the substitution filled the bill, along with mashed potatoes and veggies crisply cooked to perfection.
I also tasted my friend's short ribs since they were new to the menu (as was the stuffed quail) and undoubtedly what I would have ordered had I not just had them last night.
They were succulent; I'll be back for my own plate of those.
My music buddy there, Dave, hadn't been working the last few times I'd been in, so we needed to catch up.
He was disappointed not to have scored tickets to Vampire Weekend, which mattered not to me, since they hold no appeal whatsoever in my world (although the Chromeo remix of their "Kids Don't Stand a Chance" I can't resist, but that's thanks to Chromeo, not V.W.).
I'd even go so far as to suggest they rename their latest album from "Contra" to "Contrived," but then I suspect I'm in the minority there.
I'd just read the NY Times review of their show earlier in the week and clearly they don't have much unscripted or loose live.
And is it just me, or don't they seem like well-educated, entitled tight-asses?
But I didn't force my opinion on Dave, instead making empathetic noises about him missing out on the show.
He told me about his upcoming comedy show, which I'll want to see. The comedian I'd seen at his last show, who did the hilarious haikus, will be headlining and I loved his smart humor last time.
Come on, comedic haikus?!
And now I'm starting the rest of the evening, as per my instructions, with a glass of red (the amazing Raquillet 2007 Mercurey Rouge Viellies Vignes and a personal favorite) and listening to my newest mix tape gift, "From a Hundred Miles Away."
I was told its starting point was reconnection followed by a week and a half of 4 a.m. bed-sitting with a laptop, wanting to connect from a distance.
I'm only a few songs in and it's already beginning to put me under its spell.
Ah, music, one of the two essentials of life.
Showing posts with label mix tapes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mix tapes. Show all posts
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
An Old Friend Returns to the Scene of the Crime
How great is it when your blog reconnects you with an old friend you haven't seen in fifteen years?
And not just any guy, but the one who makes the world's best mix tapes.
Last month I blogged his praises and tonight we spent all evening catching up on each other's lives in the interim, aided by much Clos La Coutale Cahors and shared music.
It was awesome to discover that we're still amazingly alike in all the same ways we were back then, which amounts to about about a million similarities.
Now if only we could convince everyone else of our wisdom, the world would be so much better off.
Honestly, kids, we know what we're talking about.
Did I mention he came bearing the gift of a mix tape for me?
It's labeled "The Ghosts That Haunt Me" and he gave it to me with the assurance that I'd understand why the songs were chosen.
Knowing his consummate mixing ability, I think I am in for something wonderful and I have my blog to thank for that.
Well, that and the mix tape master.
And not just any guy, but the one who makes the world's best mix tapes.
Last month I blogged his praises and tonight we spent all evening catching up on each other's lives in the interim, aided by much Clos La Coutale Cahors and shared music.
It was awesome to discover that we're still amazingly alike in all the same ways we were back then, which amounts to about about a million similarities.
Now if only we could convince everyone else of our wisdom, the world would be so much better off.
Honestly, kids, we know what we're talking about.
Did I mention he came bearing the gift of a mix tape for me?
It's labeled "The Ghosts That Haunt Me" and he gave it to me with the assurance that I'd understand why the songs were chosen.
Knowing his consummate mixing ability, I think I am in for something wonderful and I have my blog to thank for that.
Well, that and the mix tape master.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Of Mixes, Ice and Deep Thinking
Today was all about a head-clearing road trip. A friend had recently made me two mix tapes and wanted feedback and there's no better way to do that than by taking to the open road to drive and listen and think. The only problem was he didn't provide song listings and I'm way too curious about unfamiliar music not to know who's doing what; hopefully I can get him to correct that.
I've rhapsodized about mix tapes before. These seemed to be a melange of music he favors, newer stuff he's picked up on and some off-beat things he may have even been trying to impress me with. The first listen to a new mix is so enjoyable for the unexpected pleasures.
As for the visual portion of the drive, like an idiot, I forgot my camera, which was a shame because I've never seen the Rappahannock River iced over. In some places, it even looked like there were small ice floes. Just beautiful. I would have loved to have been able to stop the car on the bridge and just admire it but that's generally frowned upon.
Arriving back in the Ward in late afternoon, I felt better for having taken the break to get out of town. Not that I resolved the many issues swirling around in my head, but the music and the river had provided a wonderful interlude.
I've rhapsodized about mix tapes before. These seemed to be a melange of music he favors, newer stuff he's picked up on and some off-beat things he may have even been trying to impress me with. The first listen to a new mix is so enjoyable for the unexpected pleasures.
As for the visual portion of the drive, like an idiot, I forgot my camera, which was a shame because I've never seen the Rappahannock River iced over. In some places, it even looked like there were small ice floes. Just beautiful. I would have loved to have been able to stop the car on the bridge and just admire it but that's generally frowned upon.
Arriving back in the Ward in late afternoon, I felt better for having taken the break to get out of town. Not that I resolved the many issues swirling around in my head, but the music and the river had provided a wonderful interlude.
Friday, December 18, 2009
The Mixtape Master
Back in the 90s, I met and befriended a local club DJ, whose skill at mixing music was awe-inspiring.
He didn't have a car, so he'd ride his bike to gigs with a crate of records bungee-corded on the back of it.
He was a music junkie, always going back to DC to score new and obscure stuff he couldn't find in rva. Needless to say, I don't often meet someone as rabid about music as I am, so I wanted to know him better.
After seeing him for several weeks at one place or another, he suggested we meet up at the Virginia Museum on a Thursday night since that's when the museum stayed open in the evening.
As it turned out, I had to stay late at the radio station where I worked and missed meeting him.
I didn't even have a way to contact him to let him know I couldn't make it. What I didn't know at the time was that he'd made me a mixtape he'd intended to give me that night.
It was a masterpiece entitled "Naive Melodies/Waiting" and the title referred to his anticipation of our first outing together.
Full of classic 80s and early 90s indie pop, it was superbly chosen and mixed.
By the time we rescheduled our outing, he'd made me a second mixtape, this one called, "STOOD UP!" and full of jittery and angry music.
I got the message.
Other mixtapes followed, with names like "A Cup of Coffee and a Slice of Time" and "Groovy Tunes," which had one side of "Harmless Pop" and another of "Popless Harm."
One called "Delusions of Grandeur" didn't even list song titles or artists, just the instructions to listen and enjoy because titles were irrelevant.
I listened to those mixtapes for years because they were so well done. It got to the point where I could anticipate the next song because I knew the tape so well.
Finally I realized that I was going to wear out the tape itself and enlisted a friend to put them on CD for me so I could enjoy them in perpetuity.
My friend and I eventually lost touch, although I occasionally heard him on a late-night shift on several local commercial radio stations.
Not long after I'd heard he'd moved back to DC, he showed up weekly on WRIR doing Monday's Breakfast Blend.
What a treat! It's almost like having a new mixtape made for me every week because our tastes are so similar and I'm just so fond of his musical selections.
I listen when I'm up early enough, but I always make a point to look at his playlist for sentimental reasons.
Invariably, I see song after song from one of my many mixtapes that are still making it on to his show: the B52's "Follow Your Bliss," The Posies' "Mrs. Green," Marshall Crenshaw's "Cynical Girl" and anything by Paul Weller.
There's also plenty of new stuff which I'm also listening to, but it's these mixtape reminders that give me a retro thrill.
Over the years, no less than a dozen friends have made mixtapes for me; some were terrific and some were nice gestures, but uninspired.
Creating a really good mixtape is more difficult than it sounds and yet, I've still got this guy's collection of 1993/94 mixtapes in regular rotation.
No one but a mixtape master can inspire that kind of long-term musical devotion.
He didn't have a car, so he'd ride his bike to gigs with a crate of records bungee-corded on the back of it.
He was a music junkie, always going back to DC to score new and obscure stuff he couldn't find in rva. Needless to say, I don't often meet someone as rabid about music as I am, so I wanted to know him better.
After seeing him for several weeks at one place or another, he suggested we meet up at the Virginia Museum on a Thursday night since that's when the museum stayed open in the evening.
As it turned out, I had to stay late at the radio station where I worked and missed meeting him.
I didn't even have a way to contact him to let him know I couldn't make it. What I didn't know at the time was that he'd made me a mixtape he'd intended to give me that night.
It was a masterpiece entitled "Naive Melodies/Waiting" and the title referred to his anticipation of our first outing together.
Full of classic 80s and early 90s indie pop, it was superbly chosen and mixed.
By the time we rescheduled our outing, he'd made me a second mixtape, this one called, "STOOD UP!" and full of jittery and angry music.
I got the message.
Other mixtapes followed, with names like "A Cup of Coffee and a Slice of Time" and "Groovy Tunes," which had one side of "Harmless Pop" and another of "Popless Harm."
One called "Delusions of Grandeur" didn't even list song titles or artists, just the instructions to listen and enjoy because titles were irrelevant.
I listened to those mixtapes for years because they were so well done. It got to the point where I could anticipate the next song because I knew the tape so well.
Finally I realized that I was going to wear out the tape itself and enlisted a friend to put them on CD for me so I could enjoy them in perpetuity.
My friend and I eventually lost touch, although I occasionally heard him on a late-night shift on several local commercial radio stations.
Not long after I'd heard he'd moved back to DC, he showed up weekly on WRIR doing Monday's Breakfast Blend.
What a treat! It's almost like having a new mixtape made for me every week because our tastes are so similar and I'm just so fond of his musical selections.
I listen when I'm up early enough, but I always make a point to look at his playlist for sentimental reasons.
Invariably, I see song after song from one of my many mixtapes that are still making it on to his show: the B52's "Follow Your Bliss," The Posies' "Mrs. Green," Marshall Crenshaw's "Cynical Girl" and anything by Paul Weller.
There's also plenty of new stuff which I'm also listening to, but it's these mixtape reminders that give me a retro thrill.
Over the years, no less than a dozen friends have made mixtapes for me; some were terrific and some were nice gestures, but uninspired.
Creating a really good mixtape is more difficult than it sounds and yet, I've still got this guy's collection of 1993/94 mixtapes in regular rotation.
No one but a mixtape master can inspire that kind of long-term musical devotion.
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