Zee Juuhman's Chreesmus Mahkehts, Poland In Germany, and A Glimpse Of The Dark Past part II

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Oberhausen, Germany

Robert, Trivium's pal from Warsaw had flown in to visit us all in Oberhausen, and he found just the kind of dinner spot we needed. Gdanska is a very traditional Polish place in Oberhausen; having just returned from Poland right before being in Oberhausen, I felt as if I were warped directly back to Warsaw. The same newspaper-menu, flyers advertising Polish concerts and artists adorned the walls. The place felt as if Grandma's long-tabled dining area was somewhat punk-rock-ized. It felt traditional and semi-modern-underground-kid Polish - a good vibe. 

My love for Polish beer even after the glass-eating incident (see the Warsaw episodes) should be a stern indication of the severe delectability of Polish brews. I start with a Zywiec (the very beer that was partially responsible for my scarred up gums) and we began ordering our feast. We order a Polish "Test Plate," a Gdansk plate (3 kinds of meat, chips, dumplings, cabbage with mushrooms, red cabbage, salad), Polish dumpling plate, and bratkartoffeln (a German fried-potato dish and a personal favorite of mine). 

All the food here was without a doubt in my mind certainly Polish (well… the fries (let's call em what they were) were not very Polish) and certainly good. The dumplings reminded me of Mama B's dumplings from a week back; meat and cabbage is always a theme when talking Polish food. When it comes to the spectrums of food-goodness on tour, catering is at the bottom, then restaurants, then  home cooked. Of course the home cooked food I had at Magda's mother's pad would reign supreme over all Polish food I'll probably ever eat in my life again - but this place was definitely "aiiight" (as Rob, one of my food soul mates and singer of Koufax would say when regarding something pretty good and not mind blowing). 

We finished our meal with a shot of some Polish vodka (there is always Polish vodka being consumed by the typically not-vodka drinking me when at a Polish spot) and were off across the street to a cocktail bar Extrablatt. 

The place was… sorta aiiight. When talkin cocktails - I'm a fan of the proper cocktails. Speakeasy style. Words like pre- and post- usually precede "prohibition" in the kind of cocktail place I'll be frequent. I had a decent Caipirinha, then we were off to whatever bar we'd hit on our trek back to the hotel. 

Here came the Lynch-moment (a term I've dubbed during a David Lynch film when all the sudden everything turns… well - insane). We found a random, quiet little bar - unmarked, un-filled. We ordered some German beers at a table - Robert, Paolo, Ella, and myself at a four-person booth, Dennis sitting at a stool at the head of the table; in walks a random drunk guy (this happens everywhere in the world right?) - then he sorta gets in Dennis' face/ear. 

Whether you spoke the language or not, it was clear the dude was talking shit - trying to either start a fight or start kissing Dennis. We kept a close eye in case it was about to get Roadhouse up in that bitch… but it didn't quite escalate to that point. The dude heiled Hitler… HEILED… talked a quick line of shit and stumbled off. Craziness. Yeah - that kind of ignorance and belligerence can (and does) happen anywhere on the planet - but dude… let us not forget the atrocities our planet has suffered over stupidity. It was an insanely rare occurrence; of all the years I've been touring Germany I'd never seen that before… but let's face it - the dude was a drunk… and wanted Dennis. 

Revolver Golden Gods Weekend (part I)

Revolver Golden Gods Weekend (part I)

Los Angeles

(w/ Robb Flynn, Corey Taylor, Trivium, Slipknot, Machine Head, Danny Worsnop (Asking Alexandira), John Moyer (Adrenaline Mob/ Disturbed), Billy Gibbons (ZZ Top), Lizzie Hale (Halestorm), and everyone from the Metal and Rock universe)

2012 very well may be the final year for all us mere-mortals, and if Trivium's schedule is any indication - I may welcome the relaxation post apocalypse. After slugging away tour into consecutive-tour, we were supposed to have around 10 days off at home - however in usual Trivium fashion, there was a catch.

We wrapped up the Asking Alexandria tour, flew home for a few days, then flew back out to L.A. for the Golden Gods awards show and performance. Ashley and I got in a night early and wanted to hit up some decent food. We stayed across the street from the Grammy Museum at a newly renovated hotel (it was a Days Inn or Best Western at the first USA Golden Gods… and man did it suck then - it was good now, but the name slips me). We were a short walk away from a "noun and noun" New American restaurant (and you know me and that New American), so we headed to Bar And Kitchen. 

L.A…. I definitely had an off-perception of the city for years. I was convinced that L.A. was only for the air-headed, coked up, ex-child star actresses and rock-star-style-printed douche-bag clothing-wearing Jersey Shore extra-looking mother-effers who would find themselves at the end of the night puking up their jello-shots into the storm drains outside of The Rainbow. It may have taken me a couple trips outside of the area around "rock and roll" L.A. to see otherwise… but I tell ya - once I saw the light - it was blinding.

The people in L.A. are actually pretty damn nice. And they know their food and drinks. Real well. It seems with minimal effort, almost anywhere in the surrounding subsections of LaLa-land, you can find some seriously legit ethnic hole-in-the-wall spots and fancy spots alike; dive bars and proper classic cocktail bars exist symbiotically. Bar And Kitchen is something that would be more so a rarity in maybe a place like Ft. Wayne, but in L.A. - there are tons of New American spots that do it incredibly well. The Venice Beach area? The amount of great food out there is what convinced me finally that "yeah - I could live here." 

At B and K, I began with a Moonlighter (Islay Scotch, Blanc Vermouth, St. Germain and bitters) - a manly, deep-flavored cocktail. It was the initial opening flavor of citrusy/rind-bitters, and the finish of Scotch. It was like drinking Scotch without the all-intensive bite. We begun with a Beet Salad that consisted of shaved fennel, orange, goat cheese and a hazelnut vinaigrette. The mix of shaved fennel and orange is a combo I've recently become rather infatuated with. Fresh, summer-flavors with that almost vinegar-pickley flavor in the fennel and vinaigrette pairing - it reminded me of Polish pickle-flavors - I loved it. 

Parmesan Truffle Tots? Fuck yes. Anything "tater tot" is a must for me. Perfect. My main was Shrimp and Grits done with a Spanish Chorizo ragout. Best Shrimp and Grits I've ever had. Hands down. The sauce that surrounded the grits… could be compared to Franks Hot Sauce with a slight vinegary-base maybe? And I mean that in the holy-fricking-shit-this-rocks sort of way. The Chorizo and Shrimp pairing reminded me of the seafood/sausage pairing you'd see in Portuguese food. Tangy, spicy, hearty - this thing had so much flavor bursting out of what would be perceived as such a simple dish. Really spot on. 

Ashley had the Kurobata Pork Shank with Spatzle, brusels sprouts two-ways and a bourbon mustard sauce. You can't see due to the dim lighting, but this thing belongs in Game Of Thrones, being eaten by a White Walker… it was medieval and massive. I tried to help finish it - but it was futile. Really fantastic regardless - but I was still gushing over my Shrimp and Grits that reminded me of Portugal and Franks.  

It's odd when I'm too full for desert - but I was. Oh well. More food the next day. 


L'Auberge Saint-Gabriel, Koko, Juste Nouilles


For some reason, as a person and as a band - I/we used to hold a massive misconception of Canada. We used to get bummed when we'd have to do the trek over the border into our Northern neighbor. It may have been due to the fact that first several shows we played in all provinces of Canada - the shows were always lined with disaster.

I recall on the Dillinger Escape Plan tour (Trivium was first of 4, Read Yellow second, The End direct support, DEP headlining) that the crowd hated us. I think one night they sat on the floor during our set (that may have been Montreal), in Toronto on that tour, the local sound guy started literally throwing our drum kit pieces around after our set… I exchanged some words with a woman there who was the promoter rep (I wish I remembered her name - I'd happily write it down with her cell phone number if I had it all) - I said "We have never been treated this badly - I will be having a word with our booking agent." Her response was something along the lines of "Fuck you kids - get the fuck out of my club - I am going to end your career in Canada. No one will ever book you again!" The security guards swarmed around as all 4 of us Triviums got in a screaming match with the venue - then were basically thrown out. 

Every time we've ever crossed into Canada - for some reason, their border guards are harder on us than even in Eastern European countries whose border guards carry machine guns (this is still a fact for us). We've had tours in a van with drives so long in Canada that we spent the nights sleeping in freezing Tim Horton's parking lots - selling about a t-shirt a night, not even coming close to be able to cover a tank of gas.

First time we played Quebec City, supporting In Flames in '06 - I was actually egged. People threw raw eggs at me. The very first time we were ever in Canada… I remember we went to a strip club at 8:30am after eating at a Pizza Pizza - awful. I'm talkin shark-bites and coat-hanger scar F-minus squad… Bad times.

So maybe it was all of the above that created that initial misperception of Canada… 

However! Very shortly after 06/07 - Canadian Trivium fans began overtaking the volume of Trivium-fans in the USA even. We started having some of the best damn shows in North American in Canada exclusively. We would have the highest merch numbers of entire tours in places like Edmonton; have entire crowds singing guitar parts as loud as the PA. It was starting to come around.

When my love for food started coming around, and then my serious blogging - it was really on the Dream Theater tour (at least for the first time in North America/ Canada for my bloggin-era) - I started seeing better areas of Canada. I started noticing that the major cities were on an economic upswing… the cities looked futuristic (Vancouver, Montreal, Toronto) - the shows were beginning to over-sell-out. 

The venue area we were playing on the DT tour was insanely gorgeous. All museums, restaurants, new buildings, all sorts of exciting and new looking things. One of my uncles lives out in Montreal - and he knows all about my obsession for food.

I met my uncle at a location of his picking: L'Auberge Saint-Gabriel. I think this place is like - one of the oldest restaurants in Montreal. On the outside, it looks like a country-side vineyard - but also sort of like Bilbo Baggins' house in Lord Of The Rings. Inside, you are greeted with some intensely cool stuff: glass containers display their charcuteries being made; there is a giant spinal column on display; these odd elk-bodies conjoined at the head with a singular light bulb as it's shared head. It's like a modern art museum in this old building. 

The menu design looks like a minimalistic Mastodon album-cover; the fonts, the lighting, the interior - it's all a mix of country-side rustic and modern art museum. Glancing at the menu, you know this is some seriously good stuff - we are brought a fancy water bottle reading "Eau Filtree" and slamming French bread. 

I start with a glass of the house red (not sure what it was - but it was damn good and damn buzz-inducing (especially at 12pm)) - my starter was the Beef Tataki: meaux/arugula cannily, marinated mushrooms and tomato confit. The presentation of this entree' was art in itself: every ingredient displayed on a heavy black stone… the meat was very lightly seared, insanely tender (sashimi-tender, almost), all the components of the dish both aesthetically complimenting each other while certainly complimenting each other's taste. The use of a small amount of sea salt on the meat was all that was needed, the rustic vegetables all played off of one another.

The main for my lunch was Moussaka with tomato/cucumber salad and mint. If you haven't had moussaka before… it's a dish found in several middle eastern cultures - sort of a cross between lasagna and shepherd's pie. Saint-Gabriel's came in it's own cute-little mini baking dish - the cheese and eggplant were gooey and wonderful - the meat (it was most likely lamb) in that crumbly ground-beef texture. This thing was stupidly good. 

When at a place as good as this - you gotta have some sweets. I finished up with a chocolate cake with cream and a cappuccino. Pleasantly harder on the outside, molten-moist on the inside; airy (but thick) cream complimented so well. All their dishes look like little works of art delivered on their heavy black/grey stone plates.  The cappuccino was even something special.

This place is intensely freaking good. Get over there.

After a wonderful catch up, my uncle and I went our separate ways, I hit up the modern art museum for a fantastic wander for a few hours,Trivium had an incredible gig - then it was after party time…

We have some really great friends in Montreal that we typically meet up with for food and drinks after the show. Some of the group went to a rock bar, me and a very small-group went to a place called Koko. 

I've never been to a bar this fancy. It's basically an ultra-lounge where the coolest of the cool of Montreal come to spend way too much money. Don't get me wrong - this was a fun spot… but it's not something for me, or most. The clientele looked like something out of a rap video: it was all models, aspiring actors and actresses, the super-rich and famous of the young Montreal scene. It certainly was amazing to be able to experience this kind of life for a night though.

Since my friends in Montreal are so plugged into the scene there - it was all free drinks (and free drinks in a "bottle bar" are something pretty uncommon). A bottle bar is somewhere where you have to buy a bottle of Grey Goose marked up to 200-400 bucks a pop just to claim a spot to hang out at. It was all blaring club music and sniffling, sparkling boys and girls. I met a lot of people in suits more expensive than my guitar all from ultra-rich families from Africa and the Middle East. 

That was a time-warp for a metal kid from the 'burbs.

I got super-frickin plastered on Vodka/Soda/Limes and Moet and it was time to head off. I don't often drink Vodka… but it seems that each time I do - it's a loud-Heafy-insane night; thankfully - there was close by late-night Asian noodle places.

We hit Ivy on the way out for another beer or something… then to Juste Nouilles for Phad Thai and Fried Rice. I have a passionate obsession with greasy, traditional, late night drunken-Asian noodles and rice - this place frickin ruled. It was all smashed Asian kids chowing down on greasy, fantastic street food-style noodles. We inhaled our 5-pound plates of noodles and rice and stumbled back to the bus so I could hit the coffin. 

Montreal - you are truly a fantastic place. A'bientot. 


Comstock Saloon

San Francisco

The tour with Dream Theater was very much so something we in Trivium had been looking forward to for years - we're very happy to know we're the sort of band who can tour with bands like Dream Theater at one end, Asking Alexandria at the other… then even bands like In Flames and Five Finger Death Punch. If you ask me - that says versatility, baby.

The Warfield is a cool venue for concert-goers (as all the "legendary" venues are), but as all "legendary" venues are for the bands - they're usually a large dump (if you will). The area ain't the safest of locations either. 

I am in love with San Francisco… but with all things you love - you are hopefully in love with their faults just as much as their qualities - San Francisco… your bums are out of control. Like something out of H.R. Giger or even Lovecraft are the swamp-monsters that crawl about the streets of SF - I don't know what to do with them, and I'm sure the city doesn't either… but due to the fact that they've been getting aggressive and even violent lately is not something to be accepting of, San Francisco. 

It's a bummer to see in the beautiful parks that families could be picnicking with their kids, or people jogging or what have you - their are sleeping bums in trees, shopping cart-homes strewn about the sidewalks. Again - I don't know what do to - it's a tricky situation… but the aggressiveness needs to be dealt with (even my local friends are saying how the bums are becoming far more ruthless than ever). 

I digress.

We were nervous about the DT support tour initially… but amazingly, every night it feels we won over 95-100 percent of the prog-fanatics; 70-90 percent a night had only been seeing us for the first time at that respective show. Pretty amazing averages if you ask me.

We wrapped up show one - rounded up me, Ash, Meg, Evan - and headed to the legendary Comstock Saloon. Today had been Ashley's tattoo day… so I knew she'd be crashing hard towards the end of dinner. Your turn!

Comstock is known for being a classic-cocktails establishment with fantastic pub grub with a gastro-flair. 

(all photos by Evan)

I asked our waiter what Comstock is known for - he sent over the Sazerac (rye, sugar, Peychaud's, Absinthe), a manly-ass cocktail if I do say so myself. This thing had a kick and an array of flavors. It was pretty much all alcohol - alcohols that have some damn distinctive tastes. The Absinthe stuck out just as clearly as the rye… too many of these and you'd be flipping cop cars. 

We started with some meaty Green Olives - everything an olive outta be; not your run of the mill grocery-crud, these were like miniature fruit. When I see a name like "Pig In A Biscuit", it needs to be ordered immediately. I don't eat fast food anymore - but these reminded me of that "Chicken Fillet" places' breakfast sandwiches… only with delicious pork-meat and obviously 1,000 times better. But it brought me back to that initial childhood happiness of before-school treats. Flaky and soft were the biscuits - and the pork perfect. 

The Picnic Platter contained all the bar-snack goodies that we needed: homemade sausage, salt cod brandade, seasonal veggie salad, pretzel, mustard and pickles. It was like the kind of spread you'd see coming out of a Jewish Deli in NYC or something - the salt cod brandade reminded me of Japanese ground radish and ground fish-flakes; the sausage was phenomenal (sucker for good sausage here, remember?); the mustard was very Bavarian in flavor - just right. Alcohol needs to be coupled with sausage and bread and mustard at all times.

The Beef Shank And Bone Marrow Pot-Pie with Arugula Salad caught my eye early on when we sat down. When we're talking about the "good stuff" (offal: marrow, necks, head-meat, organs, etc) I will order it. I will need it. A great throwback to the British Pies that have been quickly disappearing from their country, it's nice to see Comstock can do it just as well as the classic-masters used to be able to. Who would have thought of throwing in the buttery, milky texture of marrow in with slow cooked shank? It just worked. The marrow would naturally add a saltiness and an appropriate amount of liquid to the shank meat.

As I am the offal-freak, Ashley is a veggie-nut. She had the Summer Squash and Ricotta Cannelloni, with roasted pepper sauce and fried squash blossom. I think I tasted it? But me and Evan were busy geeing out on the pot pie… leave the leaves for the women! (I kid, I kid).

Dessert was the Maple Bourbon Pudding with black pepper shortbread and the Summer Cobbler with almond cake and lemon verbena cream. Perfect ends to a perfect meal shared with loved ones. There again was the savory and sweet that I'm currently so infatuated with in that perfect maple bourbon pudding - and - it's always great to be reminded of the South when I'm not home: The cobbler reminds me of my in-laws ever impressive Southern cooking.

Get to Comstock. It's an amazing vibe, great food, drinks that are done really well - there was even a slamming dirty-blues band playing upstairs in a terrace that overlooks the whole place. 



San Francisco

Today was my tattoo day. Tomorrow was Ashley's turn. Our two dear friends from Seattle, Megan and Evan were in town on their cross-country honeymoon, and met us up for hanging and eating. 

We decided to take them to Nopalito (the local, organic, amazing Mexican place that Ashley and I flipped over last time or so that we were in SF) for dinner. Nopalito is always nice and busy - people chowing down on smaller/medium-sharing-sized plates of Mexican specialties. 

Unfortunately - when you get tattooed for most of the day - you usually don't feel right at the end of the night… sometimes the endorphins work to your favor and stick around… sometimes those jerks leave you and let you get spacey. I wanted to tough it out and hang and rage and all that… but I think I faded and crashed pretty hard towards the end of the meal… but we'll save that for later.

What I love about Nopalito is that everything can be shared - and that everything feels that it should be. The seating is all semi-close to other seating (without being too close for most of the areas), the cooking-area is openly visible, the plates are smaller and priced-well to the point that you can order lots and try lots (I always want to try as many things as possible when eating anywhere), and the restaurant is usually filled with a bit of music and the conversations of happy patrons. 

We went up to the bar and waited for our tables - everyone ordered their cocktails - I had the Bloody Maria (Pueblo viejo blanco, tomato, orange, spices) - rocking Nopalito-version of the Bloody Mary. We all caught up and drank and waited for our table to open up. 

Once seated (between couples of strangers), the four of us began picking our selections of the night: Totopos Con Chile (tortilla chips, salsa de arbor, cotija cheese, crema and lime), Gordita De Picadillo (fried tortilla pocket, grass-fed beef, potato, carrot, redbird pinquito beans, queso fresco and salsa de venas), Empanada Con Deshebrada De Res (fried masa pastry, grass-fed beef, tomato, jalapeno, cabbage, avocado, queso fresco and salsa molcajte), Ceviche Verde De Pescado Y Calamare (marinated rock cod, calamari, lime, tomatillo, jalapeno, cilantro, avocado and tortilla chips, Mole Poblano Con Pollo (sauce of toasted chiles, chocolate, cinnamon, nuts, sesame seeds, onion, seared chicken breast and rice), and finally - Carne Asada Con Nopales Y Chorizo (grilled skirt steak, cactus, pasilla chile, onion, chorizo, queso fresco and pico de gallo).

I've mentioned at length the last time I covered Nopalito's how much I am in love with their Totopos Con Chile: soft, traditional cheese; a good amount of crisp off the salty chips - the lime adds this slight moisture that takes it all to another level as well texturally. Nopa's Ceviche was fresh, and exciting. You could really single out each of the flavors in there. The Cod had a softer texture, the calamari and obvious naturally-chewier thing going on… avocado and lime and cilantro couldn't go better with the duo.

The empanada was quite different from the Cuban-style I am so accustomed to (being from Florida) - it was more like a giant hardshell taco - which is not a problem. It's amazing that each dish at the restaurant almost seems to have it's own salsa that goes with that dish - this super crunchy empanada was pretty rocking. The gordita had a similar super-crunchy house to the meat, versus the softer brethren I have consumed in the past - nonetheless - great as well. 

The steak and chicken mains were… too much food at this point. If you look up only a few paragraphs and see that grocery-list of ingredients we were intending on consuming - you can sympathize with our fullness. Since all the blood was in my stomach digesting by this point, and no longer focusing on sending their red and white goodness over to my open-wound arm… I started gettin' a little rough (maybe it was the Bloody Maria and the Negras…) I unfortunately can't describe the mains with proper justice due to my state.

I think I started getting in that paranoid-drunk-type-state with Megan even… I was hallucinatory almost - I think I was hearing her saying things to me that she wasn't. Kids - don't drink after a day of tattooing. Sorry for being a whacko Megan…. Ha… 

Then again - if you can't be a whacko to your friends… who can ya be a whacko to?


Canon in D Major traded for Ragged Wood

Gluttony In Seattle part V

After our bountiful feast of what had to have been more than 15 or so different things, it was time to head to Sambar, all our Seattle-friends' favorite cocktail bar in the States. We were told that this place was unlike any cocktail bar we would have been to. 

We made our way to a tiny bar, tucked away in a neighborhood, adjoined to a fancy French place. Everyone was stoked to bring us here - apparently the bartender here goes beyond mixologist, he's sort of a doctor of cocktails. You tell him what liquor you like… or even what mood you're in…and he knows what kind of drink you need.Mixology is no easy feat - you can't just work in a bar, shake some random ingredients together and pull something great out of your ass - you really need to know your stuff. 

Just as Staple was rather inexplicable due to the nature of the presentation of courses being an onslaught of delicious courses - this was similar. My first drink was I believe the bartenders take on a Corpse Reviver - only different. I mentioned my taste leaning towards classic cocktails, Pre-Prohibition-style… maybe something like an Aviation - and he delivered that tasty elixir. 

Everyone passed around everyone's drinks to sample everything that was being sucked down - each cocktail had such a distinctly different flavor, even using such subtly different ingredients. 

I used to not get cocktails - I was convinced a cocktail was something strictly limited to what I was used to drinking down in our freezing tiny Chevy conversion van back in the days of yore: warm or cold Jack (depending on the weather outside) with flat soda from a big liter jug; Jaeger and room-temperature orange juice (which shares a striking resemblance to diarrhea) poured into a red plastic cup. Now that I've taken the blue pill (or was it the red pill? It's been a while since the 90's) - I've seen the light that the right cocktail, at the right place - is like… an adult soda. 

For my next drink, I told the bar tender to make me whatever he likes - and that I'd be stoked regardless of what it was. I've heard of deconstruction of foods, but not drinks - here we had: a glass of house made ginger beer (non-alcoholic, but totally made in-house), and a glass of some kind of rum that I can't recall the name of.  

Separately, it was like a glass of succulent fire-water and then a glass of sparkling honey-soda… but sipped one after the other - a sort of magic happens. You could mix the two, but what was really fun about it was to taste the components totally separate, each living in it's own home - this "cocktail" awoke something in my taste-bud-brain-reflex.

The six of us were well lit-up by this point - happily (loudly) chatting about our lives back home and abroad, about other times we've eaten and drank around the world, and how fuckin-good each of our drinks were. 

Once again, I asked the barkeep for anything - to make something up on the spot even. Unfortunately in the business of being in consuming copious amounts of food and alcohol, you sort of lose your way sometimes in writing down what something was in your notes - so… I'm going off guessing what this iPhone photo is showing me. 

The next deconstuction-sort-of-modern-art drink thing that was presented to me was a glass of clear rum (from some South American country) and a plate with oil and ginger shavings (maybe some garlic too) and a skewer of tomatoes and blood orange. You take a bite (or a drink) and then drink (or bite). I love the fact that you can find quality drinks just like you can food - and when you're doled out something like this, something so vividly different than what you imagine a drink could be - it's what lights me up. 

Another beautiful time with some fantastic people. 

From here, we stopped by a local grocer - and - inspired by Sambar, I picked up ingredients to make Aviations (gin, maraschino liqueur, creme' de violette, lemon) at Sean's place… my mixology skills (or lack-thereof) were lackluster by that point-of-drunkenness,  to say the least. 

The next day was wedding day. The entire day from start to finish was remarkable - a wedding I'll certainly never forget.

I got to DJ the whole thing too… so I had a damn good time.

The next morning, it was a final meal at Citizen: Huevos Rancheros with Potatoes. The potatoes were rosemary-covered, the tortilla had black beans, avocados, cilantro and eggs and white cheese - pico on top. Rockin. I always want huevos rancheros. 

Thanks for the grub, Seattle.

If a picture's worth a thousand words - let me spare my fingers and your eyes.

Gluttony In Seattle part IV

Once meeting back up with Evan and Megan and Sean and Melissa - Ashley and I found ourselves at Staple And Fancy. The interior was everything I could ever want in a restaurant. I believe SandF was originally the space between two old buildings (one of them may have been a mechanics), where they filled in the space between the two buildings, and began construction for this very contemporary/modern restaurant. Next door is a bike and beer shop. The kitchen is all open and viewable from the seats, you can see the old letterings and logos from the mechanic on one wall - the restaurant opens up down the hallway into another restaurant; all the tables and seating feel very communal without actual being slammed into strangers. High ceilings, big windows - restored-old, giving way to the new was the vibe of Staple. Really inviting and cool.

We went for the prix fixe that night - so I have no titles or notes for you… just pictures. Pictures do not however, capture the brilliance behind this meal. Everything was perfect. Enjoy the visuals and the break from MKH-type-land.

The final thing I'll mention was that my drink was the classic (and appropriately-named, for this blog), Last Word (gin, chartreuse, maraschino, lime). Cheers.