City House, Country House

I met up with Rebekah at City House, where she is the pastry chef extraordinaire. City House is an amazing restaurant in historic Germantown (which always makes me want to call it City Haus). The interior is a beautifully renovated house and former art studio of Alan LeQuire. The exposed brick walls, wooden beams and two rustic wood fired-ovens warm the modern clean lines and stainless-steel kitchen.































If you haven't had a meal there yet, you must do so immediately. Here's what's on the menu tomorrow (warning: it's a whole-lotta pig, they just got a whole one):

Sunday

January 24, 2010

Pork Snacks

Pork Rib Salad, Pickles, Onions, Celery, Buttermilk Dressing
Head Cheese, Cabbage, Horseradish
Crispy Pig Ears Milanese, Caper Lemon Butter
Bologna & Pimento Cheese Sandwich
Country Fried Pork Biscuits, White Gravy

Other Snacks:

Boiled Peanuts
Brussels Sprout Salad, Miracle Whip, Red Onion, Peanuts & Raisins
Aaron’s Wings
Smoked Sunburst Trout, Corn Cakes, Sour Cream
Rock Shrimp Cocktail, Saltines

Pizza

Kitchen Pie
Margherita Pizza, House Made Mozzarella
Sausage & Potato Mozzarella
Cannellini Bean, Ricotta, Grana, Garlic, Oregano
Chick Pea, Pecorino, Chilies, Back Fat
San Marzano Tomato, Anchovy, Radicchio, Parsley, Celery, Garum
Prosciutto Cotto, Ricotta, Lemon

Secondo

Pork Meatballs, Tomato Ragu, Grana Padano, Garlic Toast
Porchetta, Fennel, Red Onion, Parsley, Lemon
Delta Catfish, Cornmeal Crust, Cauliflower, Pesto, Green Olives

Hungry yet?

Oh, yeah, and dessert. That's a secret. You'll just have to go and see. Let's just say that there will be homemade gelato and there will be chocolate.

And then Rebekah and I had a crafty day at her country house in Springfield. We made things with ribbon and vintage fabrics. I got to look at many of her fiancee, Harry's paintings (I was a fan long before I knew him). Harry even braved the estrogen levels of a crafty meeting to hang with us and be our DJ. It was a lovely day.

crafty chicks gone wild

A few girls came over Saturday to make fascinators. Nobody was convinced that it would be easy, yet everyone left with a finished product. It was so fun, my only complaint is that we didn't have enough time. We also got scoop on Rebekah's wedding plans and Maggie's pregnancy (well, we know how that happened).

at the rock show, part 2

On Sunday night I attempted to stay up after 10:30 for the second consecutive evening. There are really only two reasons I would do this: 1) for the Old School Skate at Rivergate, or 2) to support the little rock star.
This time, it was the little rock star. He was selected to be in the Battle of the Bands at the Muse. We didn't know when he would go on, so I arrived at 8:30 and sat through many, very loud and marginally listenable groups.













Then my car (and 15 others) got towed. I paid the $85 and went back to the club.
Luke's band was last.
They rocked.














And then they won.


It was great.
Those kids are going places.

at the rock show, part 1

After a sweet and lovely Christmas/Anniversary party with family and friends, I ventured to stay out past 10:30pm. Scott and I went to the Cannery to see the big rock show. I was excited to see the Ettes and Scott was looking forward to Silversun Pickups. It was a great night for cool rock chicks from the Chrysse Hynde School of Rockstar Cool: Coco and Poni of the Ettes, Nikki from SSPU and Emma from Band of Skulls. I respect a girl who can scream and play guitar (or drums) and has great style.

We got there too late for Band of Skulls and I am sorry about that. Arriving shortly into the Ettes set, their energy made it through the worst sound mix ever. Silversun Pickups followed with, clearly, an entirely different sound situation. Their big sweeping, full sound with sweet little melodies and bending/driving guitars is impossible not to compare to Smashing Pumpkins. I could do without the 2 minute distortion-fests at the end of the songs. But, that's just me. It clearly appeals to a certain demographic.

I can tell I am getting old, because it's hard to stand at a show. My feet were killing me by the end of the show, even my most-comfortable but-still-cute boots didn't do the trick. The Silversun Super Fans inspired me to hang in there. They were, quite literally, jumping, fist pumping, screaming and yelling throughout the whole show.














Yay Super Fans.

Scott and I decided that we are OK with being the old folks at the show.
And I made it until 12:45am!

BTW, SSPU will be on Conan tonight.

Take it With You--The Ettes
Lazy Eye --Silversun Pickups
I Know What I Am --Band of Skulls

The Bonnaroo Effect

I am not a festival girl. I don't like hippie scenes. I like to sleep in a bed. Even the word Bonnaroo bugs me a little. These are just a few of the reasons I would not be a likely bonnarooer. The Beastie Boys and a promise of bathrooms & showers in VIP camping made me a wary attendee. I had the best possible guide, my friend Scott, who is a Bonnaroo veteran. He told me scary stories about camping on the other side of the wall and even took me for a stroll down to the shakedown. We camped in style (he had all the gear, I made us some tasty treats) and we had the nicest neighbors. The weather held out and he gently reminded me to pace myself. Uh, yeah. Approximately 2 hours after we arrived the YYY's played; Then a little TVOTR and then my beloved Beastie Boys, who did not disappoint. I danced my ass off and smiled until my face hurt. I went to go explore on my own and take a little rest during the Phish show, because, well ...I don't like Phish. Then Public Enemy pretty much blew my mind by playing the entire It Takes A Nation of Millions To Hold Us Back album and then kept it going for another hour. How can you pace yourself? I was so excited at 3am I thought that I wouldn't be able to sleep.
On Saturday we slept in and hung around camp until 3 and headed up to the main stage to see Rodrigo Y Gabriela, who are brilliant, intense and beautiful. Scott introduced me to them about a week ago, and knowing his love of jam bands, I was afraid. But R & G are probably two of the most amazing musicians I have heard in a long time. I headed off on my own to hear Jenny Lewis. Jenny was great and a girl at the show passed out from heat exhaustion and layed on my bamboo mat for awhile. I was standing under my umbrella, wearing 70 sunscreen and drinking plenty of water. We met up with some friends and listened to Wilco, then the Mars Volta rocked our faces off before we headed back to camp to rest up and eat dinner before Bruce. My head was really hurting (I forgot decongestant) and I had not paced myself. I was exhausted. I was at the tired and pitiful 6-year old stage with a full-on tantrum in effect and poor Scott didn't know what to do with me. Bless his heart. Apparently, what I needed was to sleep for 11 hours straight. Right through Bruce, the insanely loud NIN set and 4 hours of moe. I did have some very interesting nearly-awake dreams.
Sunday morning I felt like a new woman, with just a little regret over missing NIN. Here's the thing though, you just can't see everybody you want: You get tired; You have to choose between three great shows; And sometimes, you just like where you are at that moment and you don't want to move. For example, I had every intention of enjoying Band of Horses and Andrew Bird on Sunday. But instead I saw Erikah Badu, because I wanted to shake my ass and my hoop. And then, we listened to Snoop Dogg while we took down the tent and had a "bring you leftovers" cookout with our camping neighbors (which turned out to be the best meal of the weekend). There was only one thing going on Sunday evening, Phish. Now, I don't hate Phish. I just don't get it. But, I really wanted to participate and enjoy. While watching the crowd, I can't help but think of Dave Chappelle's White People Can't Dance bit. It's OK that I am giggling to myself because most of the people around me are very, very high. It was close quarters where we were and I wanted to go play with my glow hoop on the edges of the crowd and I also still needed to get my brother a t-shirt, so I headed across the field to Centeroo. I discovered that Phish is very fun to hoop to. I normally hoop to booty-shaking music, but I could do lots of flowy, smooth hooping to Phish. Unfortunately, by the time I got to the shirt store they were packing up. My brother was dog-sitting for me and I said I would bring him a YYY's shirt. Crap. I looked around at the vendors that were still open with a weary heart; my brother was not into any of this hippie-hemp-tie-dye-schwag. Then I found Mexican Chocolate, or as I saw it, manna from heaven. I got him a beautiful Death Cab poster and one of their signature shirts. On my way back to camp to keep the poster safe from dirty hippies, I thought I would stop at the VIP schwag booth and beg for an extra t-shirt for my brother. No begging needed: door open, boxes of extra shirts, knocking and yelling, nobody home. Little brother got an official VIP shirt. Then I found Scott in the crowd and made it until the end of the show (did I mention that Phish shows are very, very long?).
I may have been a wary attendee in the beginning but by day two I was yelling Bonnaroo-hoo with everybody else and I might even consider going again next year. Sometimes I surprise myself.