Beatleweek Part 2: You say it's your birthday? Paul McCartney visits Chicago for mine!

Seeing A Hard Day’s Night in a theater was a memorable experience, but the real highlight of this week and summer (and a major life event) was being lucky enough to see Paul McCartney live and in person.  Sir Paul gave Chicago an astounding show that exceeded my expectations.  If at any point in this post it seems I’m not quite making sense, it’s because I’m sleep deprived due to the fact that he played for nearly THREE HOURS.  Practically continuously.  If there’s any reason to forego sleep on a weeknight, it’s staying up late to see a Beatle with superhuman energy and stamina journey through over 50 years of era-defining hit songs.

I’m so glad I jumped at the chance to see Paul this time around.  Last time he was in Chicago I couldn’t afford tickets.  Admittedly, I probably couldn’t quite afford them this time, but I don’t regret it.  Besides, when I found out that Paul McCartney was playing a show in Chicago on my 24^th birthday, it felt like a sign that I had to go.  My friends Jenny and Lizzy, my steadiest concert buddies who are even bigger Beatles fans than I am, were just as willing to do whatever it took to see him.  I’m very grateful to Jenny for going through the stressful process of ticket-buying while in class at veterinary school.  She even recruited her friend to help her get the best possible seats.

Yesterday…

After weeks of subtly mentioning to almost everyone that I would see Macca on my birthday, finally, the day had arrived!  I overslept, quickly threw on my favorite dress, and headed out to work.  Nothing could ruin my mood: it was my birthday, I had secured a month extension on my lease the day before, the weather was beautiful, and most importantly, in a few hours I would be in the presence of one of the most influential musicians of the last century and writer of the songs I grew up listening to.  Beatles songs played in my head all through work, and after 5:00 I dashed off to meet my friends at The Billy Goat Tavern near the United Center.  The place was packed with fans, many wearing Beatles and Paul McCartney shirts and chatting excitedly.

Around 7:00 everyone migrated en masse to the United Center.  Our bags were checked, our tickets were scanned, and we were in!  We browsed the merch stand (I bought a set of postcards) and a fifty-something couple joked with us that we were the youngest people there, and did we know who The Beatles were?  At least, I hope they were joking.

He was totally wearing Beatle boots.

The concert was entertaining from start to finish, especially the second half which was especially Beatles-songs-laden.  He opened the show with the cheery vibes of “Eight Days a Week” and finished it off appropriately with “Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight/The End.”  In between those were 35 other excellent songs.  That is 39 songs in all, if you count the last as three.  THIRTY-NINE.  More than twice the average setlist for any other performer.  I guess you have to play that many songs when you have such a mammoth catalogue of work.  I can’t possibly go through each one here, so I will pick out the best bits.

Most Pleasantly Surprising:

When he finished off “Let Me Roll It” with a jam out to Jimi Hendrix’s “Foxy Lady.”  Of course I had to record it for my dear friend and Ace Gang member Val; you see, it’s our song.  FOXY!  Then Paul told us a story he apparently tells at all his shows:  The Beatles had released Sgt. Pepper on a Friday, and two days later Jimi Hendrix had learned the song and opened the show with it.  By the end of the song his guitar was so out of tune that he called out to Eric Clapton, who was in the audience that night, to tune it.  My brain melts from just thinking about all of them in the same room together.

Most Poignant:

This was easily when Paul played “Here Today,” his tribute to his bandmate and friend, John Lennon: “a conversation we never got to have.”  It was beautiful and heartbreaking.  I wish so much that John were still here and could have played along with Paul.  He must have been there in spirit.  I hope so, anyway.  I think everyone can agree that we are glad that Paul met John all those years ago.

A close second was when Paul played “Something” on the ukulele and dedicated it to George.  It was bittersweet, but it’s impossible to be completely sad when you hear a George song, especially when played on the ukulele.  I think this version was a great tribute, given George’s fondness for the ukulele.  I plan to learn to play this version on my own. *UPDATE: I have done this.

Most Spectacular:

“Live and Let Die” was SO COOL live.  How else would you perform a James Bond theme song but with loads of pyrotechnics?  It was fireworks and fireballs from beginning to end, punctuating each riff, filling the United Center with smoke and the smell of gunpowder.  The musicians were running about the stage looking like they were having more fun than anybody.

Most dancey:

Lizzy made us realize we absolutely needed to stand up and dance to “Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da.”  It was an odd situation since most people actually did sit during the show, given that it was a huge arena and the vast majority of the audience was on the older side.  There were some songs that many people did stand for, and many that were at the very least given a standing ovation.  I hope we didn’t block the view of the people behind us though, because we did rise for several particularly fun and/or important songs.

Most rocked out:

“HELTER SKELTER!”  Paul and his band gave all they had for that song.  It was loud and gritty and screamy and badass.  If you had come into the show right then (which would have been really unfortunate as it was at the end) you would never have guessed that these guys had already been on stage playing for over two hours almost nonstop.

Most spiritual:

“Let It Be.” Obviously.  What hopeful, reassuring words he wrote.  Always an absolute stunner of a song, but especially when you’re singing along with the man who penned it and 15,000 other people.

Most “Oh my god that is Paul McCartney that is SIR PAUL MCCARTNEY IN THE FLESH IN THE SAME ROOM AS ME”:

I cannot tell you how fortunate I feel to have witnessed “Hey Jude” live.  What an anthem.  The room was filled with pure joy as everyone sang “Naaaa na na nanana na” at the top of their lungs.  Paul let us do a few ourselves as he beamed on stage.  He must still feel a huge rush from that.  Why else would he keep touring when he could have retired long ago?

Oh but “Yesterday” hit me pretty hard too.  That’s one of those songs that I know so well, is so familiar to me, that I feel right at home when I hear it.  Despite its melancholy nature, it makes me happy.  I couldn’t resist singing “Scrambled eggs…. Oh my baby how I love your legs” during one of the verses.

Ok, actually there were a lot of “OH MY GOD IT’S REALLY PAUL” moments.  Of course.  But other big ones for me were “Get Back” and “Maybe I’m Amazed.”  I was really glad he did “I’ve Just Seen a Face” as that’s one of my favorite songs.

What a fantastic experience it was to see one of the musicians who most shaped my musical education live, and I am so glad I got to share it with friends who feel the same and understand going to great lengths to see a 72-year-old man play songs he wrote fifty years ago.  It struck me that we are very fortunate to be the ages we are now. (Here is where my thoughts might get hard to follow but bear with me.)  While we may not have been around in the sixties to experience The Beatles’ rise to fame and all the changes—both musical and cultural—that surrounded it, our parents were young enough latch onto the band’s music then.  They then introduced us to The Beatles as children.  Their songs became more familiar than nursery rhymes, and we grew up to understand and appreciate their legacy.  Had we been 20 years older, our parents likely would have been too old in the sixties to become fans in the first place.  Had we been younger, our parents would have been born later and likely wouldn’t have grown up loving their music; what’s more, if we were too young we might have missed our own chance to see Paul or Ringo live!  It’s bad enough that I’ll never see George Harrison or John Lennon or all The Beatles together… but as I’ve said, I feel extraordinarily fortunate to have had the chance to see Ringo (twice), and now Sir Paul McCartney, who has written so many classic songs that I still find ones I haven’t heard before.

I don’t know if I’ll get to see Paul McCartney live again.  I really hope so.  But I am grateful for the chance to have seen him this once.  The only downside to all of this is that I doubt any of my future birthdays can top my 24^th.

Beatleweek Part 1: A Hard Day's Night on the Big Screen, 50 Years Later

"Hey, pardon me for asking but who's that little old man?"

The Beatles were some of the first music I listened to; I think I knew all the words to their first few albums before I could actually talk.  A Hard Day’s Night was a frequent choice for movie night in my house and I loved it long before I understood most of the jokes, like John pretending to snort Coca-Cola and Paul quoting Hamlet while wearing a sheet.  Now that I think about it, it’s a great movie for kids; virtually no plot, lots of slapstick, plenty of opportunities to laugh along with everyone even though you don’t know why it’s funny.

Though I’d watched the movie just two days before on DVD, seeing A Hard Day’s Night in the tiny theater at The Music Box was a whole new experience.  The room was filled with people of all ages, from tweens to the 60-year-old hippie who had seen the movie when it first premiered in 1964.  Maybe I was trying to see it through the eyes of my friend Amy, who came with me and hadn’t seen it before, or perhaps the size of the screen allowed me to pick up on things that I had never previously noticed (I try to pick out new details and  lines every time I watch it).  I’m not even talking about the four minutes of unreleased footage they added to the film, which was exciting to see.  Some things I noticed were Shake drawing a face on the wig form in the dressing room, and that Norm’s tie is really cool—skinny, with a kind of black lizard skin print.

What really hit me hard for the first time was their age.  I’ve been watching this movie since I was a toddler.  The Beatles were always this grand thing, these famous musicians that have become a sort of modern folklore.  But last night, watching the movie on Ringo’s 74^th birthday and anticipating my own 24^th birthday in a couple days, it struck me that I am as old as the eldest Beatle when they made the movie.  I think about where I am in my life, and where they were in theirs.  They were simultaneously professional adults and silly schoolboys.  They were serious about the music but didn’t take themselves or their fame too seriously, at least not yet.  They were just kids with their whole lives ahead of them, just before the onset of the 60s Counterculture and their travels to India and hallucinogens and Apple Records and creating really cool, weird, experimental music and leading social movements.  In fact, the movie started production just before The Beatles’ legendary performance on the Ed Sullivan Show, that brought Beatlemania stateside.  It was intensely bittersweet watching John and Ringo singing “If I Fell” side by side, knowing that today Ringo is currently on tour and making music while John was wastefully taken from us more than 30 years ago.  Watching Paul and George harmonize with the knowledge that I would be seeing Paul live and in person in less than 48 hours while my favorite Beatle, George, left us when I was too young to understand what the world had lost.  They had no idea what the future held and were just enjoying the moment.

But that’s just another reason to love A Hard Day’s Night.  It’s a sort of time capsule of the Beatles in those early years of the band, just as everything was changing for them.  Though the movie is scripted (loosely but expertly), I think it’s an authentic portrayal of this band known for their wittiness and sense of humor, almost as much as their musical talent.  Personally, I don’t think John was acting at all.

In summary: I saw my favorite movie, one I’ve seen countless times at home, on the silver screen for the first time.  In many ways I wish I had been alive in 1964 for the onset of Beatlemania, definitely one of the screaming girls in the audience.  But I will gladly accept seeing it now, in a little theater with the people that keep coming back to the movie and the band that mean so much to them fifty years later.

 Up next: "You say it's your birthday? It's my birthday too, yeah!" I see Paul McCartney live.

Eddie Izzard: Force Majeure

I meant to post this weeks ago, but I just started a new job and got distracted.  I'm sorry, dear readers.  I'm sorry, Eddie Izzard.  I'll do better.  Probably.  Maybe.  Anyway, here's Wonderwall.


7 June, 2014

Cake or death? Either way, you'll need a tray.

The incomparable Eddie Izzard made Chicago considerably funnier, cleverer, and generally more talented during his three-day residency at the gorgeous Chicago Theater from June 7th through 9th.  My dad bought a pair of tickets for us, because obviously this was not a show to be missed.  It was my first experience seeing Eddie Izzard live, and was well worth the wait.  I knew he'd make me laugh like no one else, but I wasn't sure what to expect.  Would he have an opening act?  Who would that be?  Would it be brand-new material or some old jokes?

As soon as the lights dimmed in the theater I knew at least one of my questions was answered.  The Bond music and dramatic laser-like lighting building up the audience's anticipation assured me that Mr. Izzard knew what we were all there for, and would not rely on the usual opener to warm up the crowd.  He didn't need one.

But then, Eddie Izzard has never been one to adhere to convention nor waste a moment of time. 

He brings his fans to tears of laughter discussing 13th-century English politics.  He speaks at least six languages, incorporating them into each act and actually translating entire shows.  In fact, his current tour will have taken him to 24 countries and all 50 U.S. states.  He openly identifies as a transvestite, and does full 2-hour shows in killer stilettos.  He ran 43 marathons in 51 days, and will now run for mayor of London in 2020.  And yet somehow I have trouble finding the time to do laundry.

"I was in Paris this morning," Izzard told us.  It wasn't the beginning of an "and boy are my arms tired!" joke.  No, he had actually flown to Normandy in the middle of his U.S. tour to do three charity shows--one in English, one in French, and one in German--on June 6th, the 70th anniversary of D-Day, and was back here in Chicago on June 7th. 

I get the feeling that his love of languages stems, in part, from his drive to bring the people of the world together, to show that we are really all the same.  His jokes have universal appeal: human sacrifice, Olympic horse dancing, and of course God and Darth Vader dueling over pasta.

Eddie Izzard on the origins of the English language

While his style is undeniably silly and Monty Python-esque, Izzard is sincere and firm in his beliefs.  He encourages thought and rationality and believes strongly in democracy.  He reminded us that every country has the ability to overcome its crazy sects to make the world a better place.  "Wisdom is a beautiful thing," he declared whilst discussing the absurdity of fascism, the Tea Party, and Margaret Thatcher.  "No extremist has ever had wisdom."

On the nonsensical thought process of fascists

You can tell he respects his audience.  He knows us--intelligent, open-minded, and silly--and he never talks down to us.  I had wondered if he would bring his multilingual skills into his American shows, or if he would omit it because we're not known to be as worldly as Europeans.  Happily, he did an entire bit completely in French, and by the end the theater was roaring as if it had been in English.  He even threw in some German and Arabic, for good measure.

It was a proper show, full of astounding energy (especially considering he spent the better part of the day traveling across the Atlantic) and excitement and showmanship.  It was long, just about 2 hours, divided by an intermission.  I guess I haven't been to a lot of live stand-up but I didn't expect it to be such a long set.  I was very happy it was though.

If you're familiar at all with Eddie Izzard's work, you probably have heard his bit about the Death Star's canteen, in which Darth Vader goes to get some lunch and struggles with wet food trays and an unimpressed worker who asks if he is Mr. Stevens, head of catering. 

I wasn't expecting him to rehash that bit, and hoped he wouldn't as it's a bit boring when comedians use old material.  But like I said, Izzard knows his audience and what we came for.  He didn't retell the story of the Death Star canteen; no, he gave us the sequel, eight years later! 

By the end of the night my voice was hoarse and my mascara was smudged from tears of laughter.  I felt very fortunate to have seen one of the best entertainers of our time, and grateful to my dad for getting the two of us tickets.  But more than anything, I left inspired.  This man uses intellect and wit to fight ignorance, he brings happiness to so many people, he is proud of who he is and what he stands for, and he says so in multiple languages; not quite fluently, but it doesn’t matter.  I can do all of these things as well; anyone can, he just went and did it.  A love of languages is something Eddie Izzard and I have in common, the only difference being that he actually goes out and learns them and speaks them and doesn't care if he messes up.  I have resolved to actively improve and maintain my fluency in Spanish, and I am going to sign up for French classes.  He’s given me a high-heeled kick in the pants to pursue my passions and be better person.

I Become a Devout Follower of St. Vincent

I'd like to be one of those people who is well-versed in every band, artist, musical genre, etc.  However, I will never be.  My tendency is to get really, really, REALLY into one artist, listen to them obsessively and almost exclusively for weeks, and then heavily from thereon out.   But up until recently, I was in a rut.  There were definitely some bands that I discovered that I really liked, that were on heavy rotation on my iPod, that I recommended to friends, but none that stopped me in my tracks.  It wasn't until last Saturday that I felt myself getting very excited about a single artist.

That would be Annie Clark, otherwise known as St. Vincent.  

I wasn't even sure that I liked St. Vincent when I initially heard of her when Strange Mercy came out.  Her music is so unique I probably couldn't fully process it right away.  But somewhere along the line I recognized its excellence.  It's mostly my friend Devinne's fault.  Annie Clark is her spirit animal.  She invited me and our friend Marianne to see St. Vincent and David Byrne of Talking Heads (Devinne's favorite band ever) at Ravinia last summer during their Love This Giant tour.  We were on the lawn, very far from the stage, but danced like we were in the front row.  I liked what I heard from the master of art-pop.  I was familiar with a couple St. Vincent songs but the Ravinia show peaked my interest.

Weeks ago, Devinne mentioned she was looking for someone to accompany her to see St. Vincent at the Riveria Theater.  I didn't bite right away but as I heard more of her new self-titled album, I decided I wanted to go.  Luckily the ticket was still available, so we made plans for a most superb Saturday.  In the mean time I began to study up on St. Vincent's discography, not becoming an expert but at least familiarizing myself with her work and noting some stand-outs like "Marrow" and the dreamy "Huey Newton."  All of St. Vincent's music is an exciting blend of poetic and graceful vocals, crunchy beats, Disney-esque instrumentals, distorted and intricate guitar, and electronic -- I don't even know.  It's bricks taken from different genres and eras and used to build something completely new and interesting and twisted and gorgeous.  She's also gifted with an ethereal voice and a marvelous range.

On the day of the show, Devinne and I headed to the Urban Outfitters on Diversey.  Not for shopping, but for something much, much better: meeting the incomparable Annie Clark.  From somewhere I'd received a notice that there would be a meet and greet at the store.  Upon arrival an hour early, we were surprised to find that there was no line.  In fact, I think we were the only people in the store for a while.  Eventually more fans trickled in and we queued up to wait and whisper excitedly.  Suddenly, she appeared looking impossibly chic in a geometric cape and black platform boots with a black scarf thrown over her wild white-gray hair.  She smiled and greeted us.  "Hi guys!"  Although Annie Clark is known for being very private and even secretive, she seemed very warm and friendly to us fans.  Maybe it's because it's part of her job, to be nice to fans, but I don't think that's it.  As she signed albums and posters, she chatted with each one of us.  After she asked how to spell my name for the autograph, I told her I loved her Portlandia cameos.  She said it was fun to do, and really hard not to laugh on set.  I explained that it was all Devinne's fault that I was a fan and going to the show that night.  Annie Clark looked at Devinne through her round red retro sunglasses: "I blame you."  When Devinne asked her to sign her Kindle cover, she asked what she was reading and seemed genuinely interested.   The music goddess was genuine, sweet, and seemingly mortal.

If I wasn't properly excited for the show before, I was now.

It is strange to think that the woman calmly signing autographs and chit-chatting is the same person that I saw on stage that night.  A killer android, a human sonic machine holding court in the Riviera Theater.  "She is the queen," Devinne stated, "and we are her subjects."  St. Vincent gave us a show of astonishing audiovisual art that set her apart from any music artist I have seen live.

Annie Clark is easily one of the best guitarists out there.  Her talent doesn't lie just in playing intricate riffs and melodies.  She pushes the guitar past its limits, having conquered it as a tool not for just music but for dramatic sound effects, looking all the while like she's not even trying.   In fact, everything she did looked effortless.  Of course, the opposite is true; St. Vincent (Annie Clark? When do I use which name?) is incredibly hardworking.  Every aspect was meticulously calculated choreography, down to every note played on her guitar.  She and her band and everyone behind the scenes must have put in a serious effort to turn a concert into a sci-fi avant-garde performance.

My photos cannot accurately capture the performance.
We had an awesome view though -- just too far for clear pictures.

The lighting designer in particular deserves an award.  Rapid color changes complemented the frenzy of songs like "Rattlesnake" and "Birth In Reverse" The shadows cast on the back wall created a spooky shadowplay looming over the stage.  Annie Clark's hair seemed to switch from pink to green to orange to blue with every new beam of light (maybe a factor in the decision to bleach it?). The strobe lights created scenes of stop-motion, turning the musicians into automatons.

Clark herself oscillated between machine and animal, one moment shifting back and forth like a mannequin on a conveyor belt, the next draped upon the steps, slowly sliding down one by one as if she were made of liquid.  When she stood atop her pink pyramid-throne proclaiming "I don't want to be a cheerleader no more," she seemed like a giant.  I can't imagine who could possibly be above her to cheer for, given that the crowd may as well have been genuflecting.

Every so often she would speak to the crowd about how she felt we had a lot in common.  How she believed we had all told a little lie once, how we felt ill the next day and wondered if it was punishment, how that, in order to right that wrong with the universe we built a symmetrical shrine out of tin foil and PBR cans and two neon Coors Light signs.  How she felt we had all had had an imaginary friend, an imaginary friend who we thought began to get too much attention, and how we had unceremoniously killed that imaginary friend.

Not only was the performance visually and sonically stunning, it was fun.  Really fun.  When I wasn't gaping at Annie Clark's brilliance, I was dancing and singing along.  I was pleased to discover that I recognized more songs than I'd expected.  Annie Clark also led the theater in a true-to-the-original cover of "Lithium" in remembrance of Kurt Cobain's death 20 years ago to the day.  That was the only cover, I think, but I could tell that working with David Byrne of Talking Heads had influenced her, or at least that they were on the same wavelength, performance-wise.  You could see hints of it in the robotic choreography, and "Digital Witness" definitely has a Talking Heads vibe to it.

I found myself wondering how Annie Clark, St. Vincent, could possibly be human.  How the person sitting at the autograph table chatting about books and television could, hours later, transport 2500 people to another fantastic reality.  But the most amazing thing is that she is human.  A human being, made of flesh and blood like everyone else, can create something so spectacular and otherworldly that it captivates us and transports us from reality.  St. Vincent, it seems to me, embodies art in its most thrilling, extraordinary form.

Food Blog Recipes Ranked

I've developed a habit of collecting recipes I find online.  When I have down time and I'm browsing the internet, I inevitably end up finding a list of recipes which leads me to food blog upon food blog.  I email the recipes to myself (because I'm either not on my laptop or I just ignore bookmarks completely) and it eventually got to the point where I had to make a separate email folder just for recipes.

I'd like to be one of those recipe blogs, but I don't have many original recipes to contribute just yet.  I should be more experimental, and probably will in the future, but at this point I'm cooking to make as much food for as little money as possible, so I tend to buy only what I need.  But I think other people's recipes are good jumping off points, so let's just say I'm laying the groundwork now.  I don't mind learning from others' successes, as well as their mistakes.

These are all the recipes I've tried lately, ranked for deliciousness.  I'd rank them for cost too but they were all pretty inexpensive to make.


Italian Wonderpot by Budget Bytes - 2/10

The Italian Wonderpot had so much potential.  Pasta that you cook in broth with spinach, tomatoes, garlic, and other tasty spices?  Sounds legit.  And it was pretty good right after I made it.  Sadly I had to cook everything for so long to make the onion soft, and by the time it was done the fettuccini was softer than I like.  As I ate it through the week everything just kind of blended together and became mushy and bland.  Maybe I'll try a variation where I cook everything separately, keep the pasta al dente, and saute the onions a bit first.

I would like to say that I really like the Budget Bytes website.  You can search for recipes by a number of categories, and every recipe tells you about how much each serving and each ingredient costs.  I've tried other recipes from here that turned out better than the Wonder Pot, so don't let this recipe turn you away.


Taco Chicken Bowls by Budget Bytes - 6/10

This was a crock pot adventure recipe, and it turned out pretty well.  The slow-cooked chicken was super tender and it was an inexpensive, filling dish to make for the week.  My problem with it may have been my own mistake: the recipe calls for you to pour salsa over the chicken, and I chose a black bean and corn salsa, forgetting that black beans and corn were in the recipe already.  The result was more like chili because of all the beans.  Not bad, but next time I would try a different salsa.  There's a ton of spices in this too, so much that they overpowered the chicken a bit.  This recipe reminded me a lot of my aunt's chicken recipe where you cover chicken with salsa and bake it for an hour or so.  I might just stick to her recipe, since I like it a little better and it takes less time  to cook.  Either way, I would recommend adding cheese when it's done cooking.  And avocado.  Always avocado, forever.

Slow Cooker Chicken Wild Rice Soup from Two Peas & Their Pod - 6/10

This is a pretty solid, classic chicken wild rice soup recipe.  I just threw everything in the slow cooker and went to bed.  It was delicious, though I didn't end up buying enough broth so it was more porridgey than soupy.  Also, I ate it all week and by the end the rice was pretty gloopy.  All in all, it's a good basic chicken wild rice soup but not super exciting.


Asian Oven Roasted Pulled Pork by White On Rice Couple - 7/10

Not only did this recipe give me a great excuse to visit an Asian grocery store in Edgewater (so many strange, interesting, and delicious things there!) and use my cast-iron skillet, it was extremely tasty and unique.  The combination of sweet chili sauce and fish sauce gave it a sweet umami flavor, and it was incredibly moist.  The only downside of this recipe was that the fish sauce made it (and my apartment) smell a bit, well, fishy, and it made so much food that I ended up throwing out some of the leftovers.  But now I know how to make pulled pork and I can try out different sauces.


Lentils and Sausage Braised in Red Wine by Big Girls Small Kitchen - 8/10

When I was in Spain, the woman I lived with made The Best lentil soup.  I'm still trying to recreate it (chorizo is SO expensive though) but this quest has opened me up to the possibilities of the nutritious lentil.  I amassed a large amount of lentils that were sitting uneaten in the cabinet, so I looked around for some recipes.  A lot of them seemed spicy or difficult or involved too much prep or ingredients, but this one was really easy and tasty.  And cooking with wine is almost as fun as drinking it.  The red wine added a rich, spicy (but not hot-spicy) flavor to the lentils and turned everything slightly purple.  It went really well with the Italian sausage too.  This recipe made a TON of food, so I ate it all week and then froze a good amount of it for later.  I served it, as they suggested, with mashed potatoes, but it's also good on its own or with some good bread to dip in it.  Like take-and-bake ciabatta (I just really love bread ok??).  This recipe is really good but I feel like it's missing something... maybe a kick from spicier sausage or red pepper flakes.  Or maybe I'm just getting tired of it after eating it all week.  But it's a solid, hearty winter recipe and I'll probably make it again.


Jumbo Spinach and Mushroom Turnovers by Teri Tsang Barrett (Recipe #2) - 8/10

Fresh from my oven!

I just made these last night, and YUM.  They taste like an Italian spanakopita, with ricotta instead of feta.  I pretty much like puff pastry anything, and this filling is excellent.  I made one of them without mushrooms for my roommate and she made quick work of it, so I'll take that as a good sign.  This is definitely a recipe I'd like to experiment more with in the future; I might even make smaller ones as hors d'oeuvres, and mix up the fillings.  This is a really good base recipe that has potential to be even better.


Mango Avocado Black Bean Salad by Green Plate Rule - 10/10

This salad is amazing.  It's delicious.  It's really good for you.  It seems impressive and fancy.  It's gluten-free and vegan--well, almost, because there's honey in the dressing.  It's also easy to make the night before and take to work for lunch.  There's also a ton of protein here thanks to the the black beans and quinoa.   I love fruit in salads, so the mango is great and it goes very well with the cilantro-lime dressing.  The recipe calls for jalapeños, but since I don't like them I substitute red onion.  And, unlike many salads, it is really filling and satisfying.  In conclusion, if you feel a bit blah or are worried you've been eating too much junk and not enough fresh fruits and veggies but hate boring salads, this is a great recipe.  Make this, impress your friends, and do your taste buds a favor.


**I wish I'd taken more of my own pictures of these recipes, but somehow I didn't.  How uncharacteristic of me.  Must be sure to do this in the future.

Tea and Cupcakes

This past weekend my good friend Devinne invited me to tea and cupcakes in Elmhurst, the western suburb of Chicago where I grew up.  It sounded like a lovely way to spend a Sunday.

Yesterday afternoon I boarded the Metra and, once it reached Elmhurst, I walked over to Elijah's coffee shop to meet Devinne.  It's her go-to coffee shop, and it's easy to see why.  It's warm and cozy, decorated with original artwork, and the baristas make great drinks.  The Elijah's we went to, located on First Street, is actually the second location, the first being on Vallette St. on the south side of the city.

Devinne ordered her usual pumpkin chai and I chose black raspberry green tea.  We very well could have stayed there, but we opted to seek out cupcakes.  Our quest led us to Courageous Bakery, a great, relatively new(ish) bakery which donates a portion of its proceeds to The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. I think it's fantastic that the owners are taking advantage of the cupcake trend to do something good, and I love that they don't stop there; judging by the cupcake I tried, they make sure customers keep returning with heavenly baked goods.  Not only do you feel good about helping a cause, your sweet tooth is satisfied!

Inside Courageous Bakery

Devinne and I both ordered the same Raspberry Lemon cupcake, which is a lemony cake and raspberry filling with whipped cream cheese frosting.  It was so moist and rich - though fluffy and light - that it was more like cheesecake than cake.  It also paired very well with my blackberry tea from Elijah's.

By the time I thought to take a picture, I'd already eaten half of it.

The shop itself is cheery, with sunny floor-to-ceiling windows and walls painted in bright green and orange.  The service was very friendly, and while Devinne and I chatted a man serenaded the shop with an acoustic guitar.  I tipped him, mostly for his seamless mash-up of "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay" and Radiohead's "Creep."

We would have stayed much longer but Courageous Bakery closes at 2:00 on Sundays.  I'd like to go back again, maybe for brunch to try their breakfast menu.  Though it would be hard to resist ordering another Lemon Raspberry cupcake.

Elijah's Coffee

111 E First St.

Elmhurst, IL 60126

(630) 833-2033

Courageous Bakery

108 W Park Ave.

Elmhurst, IL 60126

(630) 834-2253

Eataly

I don't generally spend much money on unnecessary things.  But when I'm going through my bank statement, wondering where my paycheck disappeared to, it's usually food.

A $40 top I'm likely to wear over and over seems like too much of a splurge. On the other hand, if I'm out to eat, my thought process goes something more like this:

"$28 for a delicious dinner and glass of wine? That's pretty reasonable. After all, we shared, so I really got to taste 2 different dishes. That's saving money, really."

"$3.50 for gelato is fine. It's so rich and delicious.  Totally deserve this."

"GAH I'm hungry and cranky and that overtime I just worked can totally pay for this pricelessly scrumptious crepe."

This might explain why I haven't bought new clothes in months.

Not that I go out to eat all that often.  I almost always make my own meals at home, eating the same thing all week until I just can't look at lentils anymore. So if I'm paying someone else to cook, it had better be a Food Experience.  Which brings me to Chicago's latest culinary excitement, Eataly.

"Life is too short not to eat well."

I first heard about Eataly just after it opened in Chicago, and I couldn't really figure out what it was at first.  Was it a restaurant? A store? A collection of stores?  Either way, I knew I had to check it out.  So, a couple weeks after its opening, I went to Eataly with my friends Megan and Amy for dinner.  I had assumed that, like all trendy and cool food places, it was tucked away somewhere in the West Loop in a converted warehouse, but somehow I missed the huge windowed building smack in the middle of River North, just off the Grand red line L stop.

Upon entering, we were greeted with adorable carts of citrus fruits, exotic mushrooms, and fresh vegetables, all nestled in baskets.  It looked like a little outdoor market, with a little European grocery store attached.  The place was packed (after all, it was a Friday night shortly after the opening) but we found our way through the masses of people to see the Nutella Bar, which is, in my opinion, the greatest bar in the city of Chicago.  The first floor is clearly dessert-focused, as next to the Nutella bar is the gelateria (gelato) and the pastry counter.  There's even the first of multiple espresso bars so you can get your caffeine fix for energy to traverse Eataly.  You might need it.

I didn't know half of these mushrooms existed.

 

The Nutella Bar.
These ladies don't know it, but they're my new best friends.

After weaving our way through foodstuffs and kitchen utensils and cookbooks, we headed upstairs to the restaurant area.  When we got to the top of the stairs, all three of us just kind of stood motionless except for our heads turning every which way, trying to make sense of what our senses were telling us.  There were endless bars and counters and signs and smells, and it was nearly impossible to figure out where to start.  We passed the bar selling delicately fried things like arancini (cheesy rice balls), a wine bar, a counter devoted to mozzarella and other cheeses, what looked like a full butcher shop, and a fresh seafood counter selling everything from salmon to huge octopus tentacles.  Sprinkled everywhere were high marble tables, most without seats, where people ate plates of charcuterie and sipped wine.  What really struck me is that there were no hidden kitchens that I could see.  You could watch all the food being prepared right in front of you, and even the walled-off bakery had wall-to-wall glass windows so you could watch the bakers at work.

Fried things.  Yes please.

Il sushio, as I believe it is called in Italian.

Raw Bar

Thankfully Amy had been to Eataly already and suggested we go for the sit-down pizza/pasta restaurant section, really just a roped-off collection of tables in between the pizza and pasta kitchens.  We put our name in, and a phone number so the hostess could text us when our table was ready, allowing us to wander freely.  Great idea, right?  Every restaurant should do that.  We intensified our already-present hunger by perusing the packaged pastas, bottles of olive oils that looked like fine wines, actual bottles of fine wines, and even fancy Italian soaps and beauty supplies.  There were walls of pesto and pasta sauces, a tempting cheese section with cheeses I had never heard of before (and I love cheese) and cured Italian meats, and a little bookshop with titles like The Geometry of Pasta.  Which would make a completely suitable gift idea for someone such as myself.

Come to me, my love.

Pasta and shapes.  Two of my favorite things.

Finally our table was ready.  Upon it were hunks of fresh crusty bread wrapped in brown paper, and olive oil for dipping.  We ordered a glass of wine each and looked over the menu.  We decided to split two dishes between the three of us and chose the Mianese pizza with prosciutto and arugula and the ravioli with ricotta, pistachios, and a lemony sauce.  Both were absolutely delicious and we finished every crumb.  There was definitely room for dessert though.

Amy and Megan, shortly before we devoured that prosciutto pizza.

Before we descended back to the first floor, we looked around some more at the groceries and Amy bought some beer from the Birreria, which sells an impressive variety of foreign and American craft beers like Half Acre.  You can even get some of them on tap at the bar.

We ended the evening with some excellent gelato.  There were lots of excellent-sounding flavors, and even soft-serve gelato, which is apparently a thing.  I ordered a cone of tiramisu to complete the Italian theme.

Two days later...

The following Sunday I made another stop. I was famished after staying at work longer than expected, and in my hungry/annoyed state I decided that I deserved a treat. This time it was a piping hot crepe from the Nutella bar. Once the woman manning the crepe station finished it she let it sit on a plate for a few minutes, which confused me at first: Why isn't she giving me my crepe???  Once she did I understood that otherwise I would have burned my mouth in my desperate quest for chocolate-hazelnut goodness.

I meandered around the second story finishing my crepe.  Though it was pretty satisfying I couldn't help but to be drawn to the focaccia counter.  I ordered a square of the $2 classic focaccia, which was warm and soft, seasoned simply and divinely with olive oil, sea salt, and rosemary.  My brain was yelling in all caps about how delicious it was, but my mouth was too full to speak.  The best part about Eataly's focaccia is that at less than $4 for even the varieties with toppings, it's easily the most affordable way to satisfy your hunger and taste buds.

Hey there beautiful, how you doin'?

Needless to say, I will be returning to Eataly. There's so much to try. It's definitely not an everyday lunch place if you're on a tight budget, but for a once-in-a-while treat it's an excellent option.