It's a standard trope in portrayals of assimilated Jews to open with a scene built around a Christmas tree. That's how Tom Stoppard's " Leopoldstadt" and Alfred Uhry's " Last Night of Ballyhoo" begin, and also Ian Buruma's memoir about his grandparents, " Their Promised Land." The idea is, as soon as you show that, you've got the audience's full attention, especially if it's a Jewish audience, because it's so peculiar.
When Norman Sylvester was 12, long before he garnered the nickname "The Boogie Cat" or shared a stage with B.B. King, he boarded a train in Louisiana and headed west, toward the distant city of Portland, Oregon. He'd lived all his life in the rural South, eating wild muscadine grapes from his family's farm, fishing in the bayou and churning butter at the kitchen table to the tune of his grandmother's gospel singing.
I'm chowing down on a mini King Cake, my breakfast. It's a braided cinnamon Danish sprinkled with purple, green, and gold edible glitter, with a cream cheese filling and a little plastic baby perched astride. The baby represents the infant Jesus and is said to bring luck (and an obligation to host the next fête, if he shows up in your slice.)
Maybe we ran into an old acquaintance at the supermarket and said "Let's catch up sometime" or told our friends we would "check out" the boring-sounding show they spent the past five minutes recommending? That's what country-music superstar Jelly Roll appeared to do after the Grammys last week when, in response to a question about the state of the country, he said he had "a lot to say"
"We just always believed that barbecue was a part of our culture, going all the way back in history," Cedric explained. And Anthony put it even more personally: "When you go to a barbecue, no matter where you go, it's like a family reunion. You've got the spades, you've got the dominoes, you've got the good music, you've got the great food, you've got the great camaraderie, you have family around you, and that's what this business is for us."
Jeff Hanna, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band founder and de facto leader, is tucked into a nondescript booth at El Palenque, a 30-years-plus local restaurant in a Nashville strip mall, talking about "Nashville Skyline," a pensive track from their EP, "Night After Night." The family-owned Mexican restaurant is the kind of place he's gravitated toward since starting a jug band with friends in Long Beach before migrating to Los Angeles' folk/rock scene.
The Grand Tasting is the best value. For $69 per person, guests may select three sample-sized entrees, and their choice of white or red wine (my server allowed me to swap out my drink for a nonalcoholic hibiscus lemonade). While servings are smaller than those offered a la carte, each portion is still quite hefty. The New Orleans gumbo yakamein ($39) suited the cold Chicago day I visited.
Sonic seasoning is the phenomenon where specific musical elements: tempo, pitch, instrumentation: can influence how our brains perceive the five basic tastes: sweet, sour, salty, bitter, and umami. High-pitched tones can make dishes taste sweeter. Bass-heavy tracks can enhance umami and savory notes. Even the crunch sounds we hear while eating can make food seem fresher and crispier. It's not just about mood: it's about fundamentally altering taste perception through sound.
Rut took piano lessons in grade school, but they didn't stick. He asked his parents for a guitar because he wanted to be Ace Frehley of KISS. When his guitar teacher told him the members of KISS "weren't real musicians," he stopped playing-until high school. "I found a friend who knew all the classic rock riffs. That's when I started hearing songs in my head," he said.
At first glance, Buck & Johnny's, a restaurant just outside Lafayette, Louisiana, looks unremarkable: a warehouse-like space with exposed brick, a large dance floor, and walls decorated with football helmets and old oil company signs. Then, a five-piece band strikes up in the corner. Louisiana zydeco rolls across the room, driven by accordion and the full-body washboard frottoir (a percussion instrument). Couples of all ages gravitate to the dance floor, stepping, spinning, and swaying with varying degrees of confidence.
