Pompano Beach/ Ft. Lauderdale

Fort Lauderdale

D'Angelo with Gregoletto 

It was the Pompano Beach show on the Dream Theater support tour (Paolo and Nick's hometown), Paolo had his truck like usual at a hometown show… so I said to him "let's get some good food duuuuude." 

Paolo knows some killer spots in So-Flo - he swears by Michael's Genuine (a spot I haven't been able to get in to yet - but I have recently even seen on Bourdain's The Layover(!)), has taken me to Johnny V's and a couple nice Greek diners. Today's plan was to hit D'Angelo, a new Italian restaurant by Paolo's house.

Yes, sometimes I nitpick a restaurants aesthetics - hell, I am married to an Art Director - so yeah. Mandated valet parking in non-downtown-Miami Florida? Unnecessary. I have a problem with valet overall unless it's impossible to park your car. It sucks to see "free valet service" when you know you gotta pay… and you watch the valet guy simply drive your far 5-7 feet from where you were just standing just because you have to. It sends an odd-message. 

Anywho. The restaurant is very new according to P, sort of your normal lounge-ier/ new Italian bistro-style place. We decide to share everything, we get: Roasted Sweet Italian Sausage over Escarole and Beans; Veal and Pecorino Cheese Meatballs, Tomato-Braised; and Prosciutto, Mozzarella, Basil, Pecorino Pizza. 

All of it was simple and well-made. It was quite impressive to see an Italian place doing dishes like these versus the standard red-sauce drenched pasta dishes you see claiming the "Italian" name all about the States. This place did nice rustic tapas-serving-sized dishes. I was certainly impressed to see this in Pompano Beach of all places. 

Just as I am an insider of the flourishing food-world of Orlando, Paolo has South Florida's layout down as far as food and drink go. We grabbed coffees elsewhere and headed back to the gig. D'Angelos was definitely decent. 

Washington, D.C.

Washington, D.C.

Fojol Bros. Of Merlindia

Washington, D.C. was an intensely quick stop as far as show and food went. Due to a parking issue at the venue we were playing at, we needed show up pretty late (around 2pm or so) - and that's not something I like to do. 

I like to wake up in the bus (around 11, 11:30, maybe noon) and be parked, slid out, and at the gig. Yes, I am blessed to be in a bus… it took many many years living out of a van to get it - however, in my humble opinion, nothing stinks more than waking up in a moving bus and still having several hours drive (or in this case: hours drive left and time to kill at a rest stop) to go. So we park up, get situated, then Paolo and I head off to meet up with one of my friends from high school.

Having only been in the area surrounding the 9:30 club and having not been in that area for 5-7 years or so - I wasn't sure what Washington's deal with food was. My friend Becca quickly informed us that the food truck scene had been picking up some steam - and their stuff outta be pretty killer. 

Only a minor hike out the parking area, and there it was - Fojol Bros. Of Merlindia. An Indian/Middle Eastern truck is Fojol. - serving the always-craved staples like Lentil Curry, Buttered Chicken and even a Pumpkin Curry. There was a hell of a line at the time - so we knew it'd be good. During the wait, there was a hula-hoop competition of sorts… basically, if you hula-hooped in front of the truck and line, you'd get a Mango Lassi-ish Popsicle. I won't even dance in front of people - so I was out… DJ PFG? He was down. 

After a stellar hip wiggle for a few minutes, the champion received his prize - an insanely delicious Mango-Pop. Also the healthy gentlemen, Paolo had a bite and gave me the rest (such a good food-boyfriend, right?). I went for Chicken Curry, Lentils, Potatoes and Cauliflower - all served on rice. Man was this stuff good. As good as anything you'd ever want in a legit Indian place - only out of a truck… and fast. 

The only other food adventure I was able to have that day (due to early show up and having to immediately vacate post-performance due to "parking") was Pret A Manger. That's a British, healthy-sandwiches/ salads/ soups company that has a very select few of their franchises off of the Queen's-isle. 

If you gotta go chain… Pret is a damn good thing. All hormone free, free range meats and eggs - healthy bits… but also fun, unhealthy, non-chemical crisps and cookies and yummy fat-kid stuff. 

D.C. did it right in those two bites. I'll be back for a proper supper.

Atlanta

Atlanta

Farm Burger, Vortex

It was a day off, parked up in a newly-gentrified, higher-end strip mall/ grocery store/ mall/ grocery store/ hotel spot in what I'm assuming to be a "ritzier" area of Atlanta - and I didn't know what to do for food. I spent the majority of the day hitting up a nearby Publix (Florida-originated grocery store chain that I love) and stocking up all groceries and bits for myself when Corey mentioned "Hey dude - I found this burger place… that you'd flip over." 

My boys know what I dig - and me and Corey have this special burger-relationship. Most of my fun gourmet outings involving Corey typically involve a delicious burger - so I knew I'd be happy come dinner time. The last chore of the day before dinner: the three axe-men of Triv needed to rehearse some acoustic songs that we'd be performing on-air the next day - so work came first.

To flash forward into the future of the next day real quickly…

I had forgotten my iPod that had my warm ups and my iPhone was being really quirky that day - so I figured… "Hey. Dio never warmed up - I shouldn't need to!" Big mistake. 

So Cocky-Heafy sat up there all nice and tall to the microphone to start up "Built To Fall" and… "You are a cancer, spreading it's ssqqqqqquuuueaaaakkkkk!!!! Uh… lemme start that over… You are a sqqqquuuueeeeakkkk!!!! Fuck. I swear this never happens." I attempt it once more… squeaks again; I leave the room in a panic - grab Paolo's warm ups, start sweating, start feelin' like a fool. It's a big deal to fuck up an acoustic performance at a major radio station when them playing your single more depends on you rocking an acoustic version.

I collect my thoughts, zen out for a sec, go in and crush it. Bam. All good.

Back into the past…

Corey's burger joint is only about a 5 second walk around the side of the hotel - and there we are: Farm Burger. It was Paolo, Corey, myself, Ken (Trivium guitar tech), and Mark (Trivium monitor engineer) seated together for dinner. Farm Burger is the kind of burger spot I am in to - hormone-free, local, well-treated hunks of delicious meat-flesh. I order at the counter: Grassfed Beef, Bacon, Sunny Side Up Egg, Pepper Jack Cheese, Salsa Verde; Farm Burger Fries (spicy garlic, herbs, parmesan); Beer Battered Onion Rings with Smoked Paprika Mayo; and the show-stopper - Fried Chicken Livers (I am a Japanese-transplanted Southerner after all). My ale was the Wild Heaven Beer from Decateur. 

The fries were covered in the perfect amount of garlic and delicious-yummy good grease. Onion rings were meaty and thick, almost more a Tempura-style covering than a flaky one. Livers - ah man… the good stuff. I'm an organ-fiend - love it. Let's face it - most food is better with a runny-ass egg on top of it. A burger is massively upgraded when topped with one. Farm Burger's burger doesn't mess around - I've mentioned before that it is pretty difficult to say exactly what's going on with a burger in specifics… but I can tell you this - this one is fuckin' good. Small hints of Mexican, Tex-Mex, and  contemporary modern American-goodness. 

Due to sheer lack of responsibility and a taste for all things gluttonous and great, I finished up with a Bacon Brittle Milkshake. Hahah! This thing took the cake. Hunks of fatty, crispy, salty, slightly still-chewy bacon hunks float in this lava-thick beverage like little pork islands. I guarantee you that this thing isn't good for you. But - when it comes to intense decadence like that drink - if I know the ingredients are from a good place, made by people who give a shit - I know it's gonna be a treat. So freakin' great. 

The next day after the radio performance, we hit up Vortex with Mark (our Roadrunner Radio master) and Darrin (RR GA radio rep), and the rest of the acoustic-viums for some burgers. 

I got one of their burgers that's allegedly so hot that it warns you several times in the description, some tots, a beer - and we were full and happy. Good stuff. 

The show that night was a blast - I played extra hard to work off all that burger-meat and fried-potatoes lodged in my arteries. 

Burgers With Petrucci

Burgers With Petrucci

Hearsay Gastro Lounge, Houston, TX

I've said it before, and I'll say it again - food unifies people. I've found in all my years of living, that I've gotten to know people better over a meal than over anything else. Whether that's drinking, jamming, banging, hanging - food does this magical thing to people who are sharing that same experience. What I love about food in a situation of hanging out, it is that the people involved are sharing the same experience together. Food is a requirement of living, it's a base need - so when you can make the food something great, with people that are great - you're in for a great time. 

About 3/4's through the Dream Theater support tour, we began getting a lot bro-sier with the dudes in the band. I shared with John that I am massively in to food and that I needed to show him "my" world on this tour. John Petrucci has always been one of my favorite guitarists on earth, so I figured it would be a nice way to show my appreciation for his influence.

To backtrack. When I was about 16 or so, I picked up "Rock Discipline" - JP's VHS instructional. This has to be the most intensive guitar-instructional I have ever seen. This VHS (now a DVD, obviously) covers all the bases of warming up, technique (broken down into category), brief bits on theory and chord-building - I'm telling you - this thing is my Bible as far as guitar playing goes. To this very day, every Trivium show - I warm up to the (now memorized) warm up section, the chromatic 4-finger exercise and the sextuplet run exercise. When anyone asks me "how to get better at guitar" I say: "Buy a metronome and John Petrucci's Rock Discipline." 

Dream Theater's influence on me as a song writer is pretty obvious on Trivium's progg-ier bits as well ("The Crusade," "Shogun," etc.). I remember coming home daily from high school, eating my mom's home-made Ramen with Soy-cured Beef and watching Dream Theater's "Metropolis Pt.2: Live." So whenever I hear that album, I think of Ramen and "String Beef."

Fast forward back to the Houston-date. Me and JP had the plan to meet up at a place of my choosing; I used all my research-y bits to locate the Hearsay Gastro Lounge. Houston was tricky to find food in my normal fashion, and you can imagine - I was pretty damn nervous to go somewhere I hadn't pre-tasted to bring one of my heroes to. I decided to go in a few minutes early before Petrucci came in to scope the place out… to do my "Heafy-visual test of New American." Hearsay was perfect visually. All the things I wanna see in a true New American spot. High ceilings, exposed brick - my heart was all a-flutter. I scoped the menu and I knew instantly we were golden. 

When John came in, we finally were able to chat all the good things that touring musicians get to chat with each other. Not to make it sound like an exclusive club… but it really is a pleasure when you meet a fellow touring musician who holds the same principles, shares a similar mindset to "the life", and just gets where you're at (because they've been there too). We exchanged road-stories and compared gear preferences, picked each others brains a bit on musical influence and began the feast…

Both of us were goin' the same route: The Byrd. Angus Beef, Applewood Bacon, Cheddar, Mozzarella, Onions, Jalapenos, Fried Egg, Avocado, Ketchup, Mustard, Mayo, Tomato, Sweet Bun, Mac and Four Cheese. A freakin' culinary mouthful. Our waitress informed me earlier that The Byrd was named after one of their young, late employees who devised this behemoth-burger before his untimely passing. This burger is one heck of a tribute I must say… me and John were stoked on this thing. 

I was excited that at that point, JP mentioned he hadn't had a burger with a fried egg… and you know me and those fried eggs laid atop meat. Everything in the burger went well together. You always know that egg, bacon and ground beef are going to go well; the jalapenos added that right amount of kick, the avocado cooled that kick down. Granted, mustard, mayo and ketchup may have been a lot… but that's the way Byrd meant The Byrd to be. Gourmet Mac and Four Cheese? Yes please. We scarfed down the towers of decadence and were both pleasantly stuffed. 

If you look back at that first sentence - here was proof once again; before this meal - the two of us were acquaintance-musicians on tour together, and afterwards? Well - I am happy to say we're friends still to this day, exchanging favorite bands, spots to eat… at the end of the tour even, John gave me… gave me one of his guitars. I almost fainted. Without a doubt - that was one of the greatest things anyone's ever given me. That guitar is one of the best playing guitars in my collection - and one that I guard with all my being. I've already written tons of new material on the guitar for the next Trivium album, and the lessons I received on the tour have advanced my playing to a further level. That gift and this friendship again are those little things that, if I told 16 year old Matt Heafy about it all - he'd tell me I was full o shit.  

Life is definitely amazing sometimes.

 

Toe Kyo Whoa Oh. Goh (bye bye).

Toe Kyo Whoa Oh. Goh (bye bye).

Tokyo

I typically require 7-10 hours or so of sleep to recuperate post-show; before a hellish flight lasting anywhere from 6-20-30 hours - I can pull it all off with like 4 or so hours; Japan - I don't care how much I sleep as long as I eat a lot. 

Waking up early once again, for my final meal in Japan - I collected Nick, Paolo and myself, and headed back to the alley ways of kindly-hollering Japanese women and mystery stalls with delicious meat-smells pouring out. We did a few passes of the mini-restaurant stalls, cruisin' that shit like creepers - and decided to go with the spot with the giant pot brewing meat-stew. 

The ceilings were low, the restaurant insanely small and absent of anything in English, it smelled of grilling meat and beer and business men smoking their cigarettes… this was heaven if only for an hour. The three of us took our spots, ordered some beers and began the "pointing ordering". 

A pickled salad of daikon radish greeted us first (a dish my mom makes a lot) - texturally imagine an almost-cooked potato - sweet and soy-tasting. Some more pickled "stuff" came about (not sure what it was… seemed to be a root or potato) that was a terrific starter. This place was jam-packed in bric-a-brac ala sake and birru and patrons - the cooking area was slightly depressed down into the ground, the counters that surrounded were where you stuff your face. 

I required a heaping bowl of whatever that medieval pot was cooking up: Nikomi. Stomach soup. So freakin' fantastic. No, stomach ain't creepy… stomach is good. No. Offal isn't gross… it's for the true lovers of food. It's hailed as the "good stuff" by chefs worldwide; Bourdain and Zimmern are always stoked on some organ meat. Nikomi is a very traditional soup in Japan - not unlike the concept of Menudo in Mexico - it's mainly stomach, a few other fun digestive bits, cooked for hours ion hours in a broth with veggies. It's a hang-over elixir to boot (I think). Sweet, spicy, tender, delicious. I faintly was reminded of the best Bloody Mary ever… but with stomach and Japanese flavors. Best I can do for a taste guide, friends. 

My "main" was the "special" set of yaki-tori. Ah - the simplicity of Japanese food; the delicate-nature of everything in Japanese food. Just some meat (or organs), skewered, lightly basted in the appropriate sauce, grilled to perfection, basted, eaten. Vegetarians. Vegans. Ya'll are missing out. Yaki-tori is something that ought to be enjoyed by all mammals possessing canine-incisors - that chicken heart wasn't going to become mayor, that beef tongue wasn't learning Portuguese. But naturally - I applaud your convictions, I drink your meat-shake… up. 

A final pint of Japanese beer, (another) final Matcha Frapp… it was off to Narita. Leaving Japan is like leaving your pet, your wife, your girlfriend, your mother… it hurts… and if it don't hurt - I don't wanna know that soulless, shadow of a human being you may be. 

Toe Kyo Whoa Oh. Shee.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CBue7tHOlmI

(Trivium "Down From The Sky" live at Loud Park)

Toe Kyo Whoa Oh. Shee. 

Tokyo

I am a planner. I probably will get on your nerves if you're ever on a trip with me. I applaud my band mates and my wife for being such good sports when being down for my timings of things. We had the Loud Park show at night… but I planned out with Paolo the night before that we really ought to get into town for a badass Japanese breakfast before heading to the show. It was my goal after all to get as much food into my body in Japan as possible before flying back to the US of A.

We took the trek back into roughly what was the area of the first Izakaya spot we hit for first dinner the night previous, and began the wander. 

It's tricky… I can't exactly say that a wander into just any food spot even in culinary capitols will yield amazing food - you have to develop this extra sense to notice if a restaurant or food spot will have just what you need. Most things in Japan are not in English; most things in Japan are pretty inexplicable by definition to describe exactly what you're getting in to… If you can handle the latter, and you have a sharp sense of what will deliver good food - you will survive on the road as a food-freak.

I say some of the tips that come instantly to mind would be:

- If the restaurant has other features listed other than food… things like: "Great Function/Meeting Rooms," "Live Bands - Nightly!" "24 Games on 24 TVs," or it's multiple storied, or has a massive menu with 50-200 different items - those are some things to stay away from. Although I feel TVs playing sports in a New American spot are a soul-crush… in middle America, they are to be expected. In Britain though - if you think you found a delightful pub adorning the "noun and noun" title and you see a little "Wetherspoons" logo - it's a chain, go somewhere else.

- If the spot is totally empty when other spots around it are busy - probably a bad spot.

- Packed with tourists? Stay the fuck out. Novelty restaurant? "Oldest," "First," "Charmingest" - shitty-est.

- Chain or familiar smiling cartoon-mascot-restaurant from the States whilst in another country? You're lame if you go there when you're somewhere awesome. Live a little, break out of the norm. 

We wandered into a tiny alley - pretty Harry Potter-esque in it's shifting widths and heights, old stone walkway… the smell of grilling meat and hot soups wafting out in delicious clouds of euphoria. There were these Japanese women calling you in to come to their spot (that's a hard thing to refuse with me… they all remind me of my Mom - it usually makes me feel bad if I don't stop in and gorge); there were little temporary warehouse-storage container-sized pop up shops that would open up serving just one dish.

We saw what we needed. It resided at a tiny corner in the claustrophobic alley-way, two Japanese men dressed in white, running this completely packed little stall. The floors of their work-space were soaked in searing-hot liquid, the chefs wearing rubber flood-boots; one chef working the tempura station, one working the udon station. The tempura cakes were ultra-delicate cakes of mashed together, battered vegetables; the udon was hand made and boiled - giving off a beautiful noodle wave of smell. 

Business men sat at the stools that surrounded the corner food spot - quickly, efficiently, noisily sucking down their noodles. Keep it mind, it is polite and traditional to suck noodles in with a "sluuuurrrrppp". It's actually pretty fun once you get the hang of it. Patrons sucked that super heated udon down quick… me and Paolo and Corey ordered what everyone else was getting - and man were we in for a treat. 

The udon here is semi-similar to ramen, only thicker and non-coiling. It came in a ridiculously (temperature hot) hot broth that had a minor sweetness to it - reminiscent of normal udon broth. The veggie tempura cake had all the good stuff packed inside; then they'd crack a fresh egg with into the side of your soup. Japan loves it's raw eggs dropped into things by the way. I gotta say - this little spot was one of the best things I have ever eaten in Japan. 

Since it was a hot summer day in Japan, and the soup was so darn hot - I removed my over shirt, revealing my tattoos… the chefs all said something in Japanese, wide-eyed, and kind of staggered back. I apologized in Japanese and smiled - they were alright after that. Tattoos are still pretty taboo in Japan - which is unfortunate, because it initially began as a revered art form… then when the Yakuza adorned themselves in it - it got the bad-rap. Japan is one of the only places in the world that I really try to respect all their customs and peculiarities - but man was that soup hot…

Another Matcha Frapp from Starbucks was guzzled down… then we headed to hotel and to the festival site. 

Loud Park had roughly 10-15,000 of Japan's finest heavy music fans. Our show was ballistic… our signing had people rushing through fences and barricades… it was a damn fine night. We were able to catch up with many of our metal-band friends from around the globe, a ton of our Japanese friends (like the fine folks from the legendary Rock Rock Bar Osaka and Chopstick Tattoo Osaka) - we had some beers and headed back for a bite before the after party.

Rock Rock bar is an institution in the music world of Japan. If you tour Japan - you know about the spot. It's the size of maybe a 1 bedroom apartment, it's in Osaka - the people there treat musicians like family. Yoko and Seiji are some great friends of ours from there… Yasuo is a good buddy from Chopstick Tattoo (very close proximity to Rock Rock). We have had way too many late nights there, sometimes popping into the greasy-spoon Chinese diner across the street for 5 dollar, twenty dumpling plates and fried rice and cheap beer. 

Sadly… Osaka wasn't close enough that night - thankfully - our partners in binge-drinking all commandeered a local Rock bar and we all were planning on filtering in once the fest wrapped up. 

A few paragraphs ago, I mentioned that "yes, there is bad food in good places." My band was starving… as was I - but I wanted to do a bit more research before going just anywhere. My band mates' impatience gave us one of the worst meals I've had in Japan.

It was a random sushi spot (I find sushi hard to find in Japan) and man did it suck. Service sucked, prices sucked, food sucked. We wasted a lot of time and money and valuable stomach-real-estate on that spot. By that point, we were back with band and Koji and Tommie - when we left unsatisfied, Koji and I were determined… "Fuck it. We're full of shit food - let's get something good anyway." Best decision of the night. 

Some of the group went to the after party, and the true Japanese people went for ramen at what looked like an amazing spot. There is no ramen spot in the States like Japan. I've done all the "best" ramen places at some of our "best" cities. Pales in comparison. This place was again, testament to the fact that Japan is the best food spot in the universe. 

Humble, tiny, quick ramen-joint. You pick your order out of a vending machine once you walk through the automatic-sliding door… a couple bucks gets you a ticket - you pass it to the cooks and you are delivered your meal. Miso ramen is always the way to go when talking Ramen or Miso Ramen. Miso ramen has all that thick, viscous, salty, fermenty miso paste you'd have in miso soup… but it's your broth. The miso ramen here came with bean sprouts, scallions, an egg, pork, and a very few other bits - mother fuckin' fantastic. You just can't beat ramen in Japan… the gyoza? Ha! Amazing. Miso ya hachiroshoten - suki desu. 

Gyoza, ramen, fried rice - there are a few of the keys to making my heart pump hot-blood into my erect-stomach. 

Our souls were replenished from the failure-sushi, and our stomachs had a nice landing pad for the booze-skulling that soon followed. Did I say I love Japan yet?

(to be continued…)

Toe Kyo Whoa Oh. Sahn.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eLtp0z2d2ZY

(The Trivs eatin' Yasui)

Toe Kyo Whoa Oh. Sahn. 

Tokyo

Amazingly, it was still the arrival day. Pretty much instantly when we finished dinner, we walked to another dinner. That's how I do it in my home-land - if I'm there for only a few 24-hour chunks… I am going to eat that town like Godzilla. I think in that 1.5-2 day time frame, I consumed somewhere are 30 or 40 different dishes… probably guzzled down a gallon or two of Japanese beer to boot. I do not fuck around when it comes to my food in Japan.

Koji is someone who I consider a dear friend. I don't often get to see him or chat and such due to being on polar opposite ends of the earth - but when we're together, we're on the same brain waves. This dude even came to my engagement party in Florida when I first got engaged to Ashley. With Koji, I have eaten some of the greatest meals of my life… I have stayed out later with that dude than anyone I know… I've done headstands in rock clubs at 5:50am with him… we've eaten some insane shit too. Koji and I are cut from the same cloth: two dudes who put family and friends above all else… then food in second place… then metal and music in a not-too-distant third place. 

We rounded up Corey, Nick, Paolo, myself, Koji and a few other Roadrunner/Warner Japan folks and wandered to find a spot for dinner. We all agreed that this are was a little trickier than our normal haunt… but Koji had a plan as always. 

Koji took us to a spot called Tekke Tekke. The name is supposed to be the literal sound that a chicken makes when it walks - Tekke Tekke pretty much mainly focuses on doing dishes made of chicken. When we first came in, we saw several people crowded around one of those little private booths: passed out business man. 

The Japanese work hard. Japanese people are probably some of the hardest workers on the planet. They get up early as hell… commute pretty far distances… work and work and work - till they (sometimes literally) collapse. My mom made a joke on my first visit to Japan, when I was astonished how almost everyone in Japan smokes… "A cigarette is the only break we get on a work day." I commend the Japanese too for their work and party-duality-effort. They work their frickin' asses off… then get bombed as all-holy-hell - then show up to work the next day whether hung over or not and deliver 110%. Ol' oh-gee-chan here probably hit the work week a little hard. Thankfully for his impending hangover - it was Friday.

Cabbage and miso dip came up first. Miso dip is a semi-thick viscous sauce that makes a true Ramen into a miso Ramen. This two ingredient little starter was so damn good for being just cabbage and fermented soy bean paste… insane. Suntory? Yes please. The super-crunchy sweet beans were better than any late night bar food could be; the spicy fish egg and radish salad with Japanese mayo (Japanese mayo is another thing of beauty… crushes even Amsterdam's kebab-shop chip mayo… and that is saying a lot) - fantastic.

Chicken skin and onions in some kind of sauce came up - not unlike delicious pork rinds; Japanese wings came up next with black pepper and spice - fuckin' groovy (to quote Cassidy from Preacher). Karage is something you need to order if you're in a legit Japanese place with Japanese cooks. It's boneless, fried chicken. Salty, crispy, greasy - drizzle some lemon on and fall in love. Any time I am somewhere legit that his Karage, and I'm with beginner-Sushi level friends, this is always a favorite.

We had chicken breast, chicken yaki-tori (with all sorts of offal-good parts), fish fins (with sweet Japanese mayo) - these guys were chewy and crispy - Corey hated it, I loved it. Clams with wasabi, ebi mayo (Koji's favorite dish in Japan), minced chicken in salt, cheese with mayo… then chicken ham. Yes, chicken ham. It was like any other terrine I've had - only with chicken - salty… good… similar to a really soft pork-ham. 

And then… the cameras came out.

A challenge. Gete-mono. You may have heard me mention before that I will try anything that is actually eaten by a culture. You may have heard me ask many-a-time to get some gete-mono. Gete-mono translates to "ugly food." It is Japan's offal… only usually far more intense than America's offal. Out came a brick… in wrapped paper - I thought they were busting out a couple kilos of heroine or something… nope. Bugs. Biblical plague bugs. Locust. Yasui. I, for most of my life have been somewhat… terrified… of bugs. Not snakes or bears or the unknown… little bugs. 

Lemme tell ya somethin' toss enough of those little sugary/salty/crispy bar-snack-esque buddies down your gullet - and you'll become a fan of bugs. This stuff was good. Pretty darn good. I couldn't believe it.

The locust were chased with some delicate, sweet almond tofus with fruit and a hot ocha. Wanna talk best tea on earth? Wanna guess my answer?

With enough locust in my gut to make my own miniature Jeff Goldblum… we were off to bed. Finally. 

(to be continued…)

Toe Kyo Whoa Oh. Knee.

Toe Kyo Whoa Oh. Knee. 

Tokyo

It's a hike from Narita airport to any point in Tokyo… you just gotta be aware of the fact that it's gonna take a minute. But just like the plane ride to Japan, the cab ride to Toyko isn't long mentally. From? That's a whole 'nother story.

I wasn't fully aware we weren't gong to be staying in Shibuya itself - needless to say… I was pretty bummed. I know Shibuya. I love Shibuya. I'd live there in a heartbeat if it were accomplishable. But hell - I can't speak Japanesea… so. I may not fit in. English is more of a rarity in Japan than you'd expect.

We were in the financial district… sigh… but it's still Japan! Let's face it - financial districts are typically culinary deadzones, so it just requires a little more digging. Thankfully I have quite a few buddies in Japan that have always been my food buddies… since even before knowing I was a food addict (well - a good food addict). Tommie is a dear friend who lives in Japan who runs our Trivium Japan fansite. We've known her for years and years… she even stayed at my parents house back in my late teens - so we've known each other for a bit.

Me and P quickly dropped bags, quickly showered and got straight back out.

The rest of my guys… were corpses. They wussed out for the arrival meal (the first dinner of the night). Tommie took us on a bus ride, to more of the center of the part of town we resided by - then we took the voyage to foot. Paolo and I swear by the fact that the best thing you can do when you get into anywhere post-hell-flight is get some exercise. Whether that's walking or yoga or going to a gym. Our walk gave us a glimpse of more of what I like to see in Japan - big lights, lots of people, lots of restaurants and things to do. 

If you get the chance, I always recommend staying at the Tokyu Excel in Shibuya. It isn't expensive and it's in the heart of everything. walk to the lobby, take the elevator down, and walk sort of left and straight… towards the Starbucks, then immediately left or right at it - that'll take you to the good stuff. The hotel is no frills though. But it doesn't matter - it's a clean room in an insanely good city.

Izakaya is probably my favorite style of Japanese food. It's essentially the same idea as Tapas. It's small dishes of amazing stuff that is meant to be enjoyed with copious quantities of booze. The first spot was a style of regional Japanese styled food… I believe it was possibly Okinawan style? The place was Kyo-something or Koishigure. Even Tommie wasn't entirely clear on it. 

Most Izakaya spots in Japan give you your own private little booth - and you're typically left undisturbed until you hit the little buzzer than sends a Kimono-adorned, super-polite young lady coming by to get your order. Our booth was covered in amazing vintage photos of Japanese actors and actresses from several decades back - we started with my personal favorite beer when in Japan: Suntory Premium Malts. 

Suntory is the good stuff. It is light and be drank like water… it comes in pitchers… this is how you cure jetlag - Japanese Beer. Damn is that stuff good. It's somewhere in the realm of the ease-of-drinkability of a great German or Czech or Polish pilsner - just with this softer flavor and even easier drinkability. 

We start with some seaweed salads and pickles; a vegetable and egg salad covered by yuba; grilled smelt and sashimi. The Aliens-esque globe that encompassed the veggie/egg salad was unlike any salad I've ever come across - but hot damn was the crispiness of the interior great. All little grilled fishies are something of a passion of mine… the sashimi was as perfect as can be. Liquidy soft to the chew. 

The tempura here was meant to simply be eaten with some sea salt and lemon - the flaky delicateness of the tempura was artful and reminiscent of childhood for me. Chopped tamago (that's egg mixed lightly with salt and sugar, delicately cooked super thin, then rolled and rolled and rolled) was perfect - served slightly chilled; the yaki-tori was fantastic. I think we had some hearts, some butts, some other bits… Japanese yaki-tori utilizes all the good stuff, done damn well. Some of the pieces had chopped garlic, some fresh wasabi. You hand sprinkle some salt or pepper and lemon on top and eat as is… versus the typical sauce dipping i've seen. A welcome change. 

We polish off several more pints of that golden elixir… and wander back in a comatose euphoria. 

I know I've stated it previously… and I shall again. Starbucks, like all things in Japan - is better in Japan. They have a Matcha green tea Frappucino there. It is liquid crack to me. Throughout this one and a half day excursion of Japan, I probably sucked down 10-15 of those things. No, the green tea one isn't the same; no, the Australian Matcha one isn't the same. This is it's own beast. 

We headed back to the hotel real quick to meet up with the rest of the band and Koji from Warner Japan. 

(to be continued…)

Toe Kyo Whoa Oh. Echee.

Toe Kyo Whoa Oh. Echee. 

Tokyo

I don't care what anyone says - Japan is the greatest place on Earth. Wait a second… what am I talkin' about? Who the hell would disagree with that?! Japan is the greatest place on Earth. 

Once again, in the usual Trivium-fashion - we have decided to do something that probably isn't in the best interest of health, safety and sanity. In the middle of the Dream Theater support tour, we were confirmed to play NYC, then to fly to Tokyo for about a day and a half to play one show… then fly back immediately to re-join the tour we were on. If you were flying us somewhere else in the world… maybe we'da bitched a little more… but this is Japan we're talkin' about!

For Japan - I can overlook the herds of overweight, mouth-breathing, fanny-pack-wearing, waddling imbeciles that infest all airports in the US of A; I can stomach sticking to my handy, self-packed meals of Triscuits, Kashi granola, Clif Bars and maybe the occasional safe air-port chain (Potbelly's (rare), Subway (less rare), Pret A Manger (U.K. exclusive), Starbucks (pretty common)); stockpiling bottled water to ward off my 1.5 - 2 gallon-a-day thirst aboard the fart-tube. Fart Tube? Yes. That's every airplane in existence once they hit their 10,000 ft. altitude or whatever.

The human intestinal system starts to pressurize on an airplane… and all that nuclear-fallout-safe Micky D's that all the aforementioned cattle just shoveled down their gullet? Well - you're going to be eating that toxic-dump-air for the next 12-20 hours - think about that next time you think my fellow home-countrymen and women are nuts for wearing those (half creepy) little surgical-protection masks. That shit is to prevent doo doo air from asphyxiating your throat (and obviously… courteously prevent further spreading of illness). I digress.

Airline travel gets more insane every year. Those who tried to mess life in America up for good… well all they did was make our lines a little longer, our TSA far bitchier and people-who-travel-for-a-living's lives far more difficult. If you want to see the most accurate representation of what the TSA is in actuality, watch South Park's episode "Reverse Cowgirl." They nailed what the TSA is.

It hurts me deep inside to see the ever-shrining intellect of our populous represented at the airport. People at the airport… those clueless ones… they have zero regard for all other human life aside from their own. Slow moving, illiterate, rude, foul-smelling out of all ends, always accompanied by an equally grotesque partner and offspring - why can't people just be a little quicker: "Yes. In the USA - shoes come off, computers out, no - your gun can't come through security." Common sense, America.

Rant complete. Thanks for listening.

But yeah - that's a fraction of my feelings for traveling. But when you're talkin' flyin' to Japan - I can overlook all that. 

A couple of my tricks to make intensely long flights easy:

1. Have everything ready to be dumped into it's appropriate spot ASAP. Know which bag is going up, which down, what you need plopped on your seat. Do it quickly. Don't do it in the aisle… get the fuuuuckkkk out the way of the aisle and let those waddlers get their exercise.

2. Once sat, switch all your watches to the time you're going. It's not about "oh - but it's this time at home." That doesn't exist. As soon as you sit - convince your brain; then get on schedule.

3. By schedule… I mean if it's bed time… do what you do. Granted - I know I am of "a higher maintenance" level than the average bear - but thankfully I am independent enough to pack accordingly for that. I have a micro travel version of my bathroom bag, snacks, entertainment… I prep as if I were a a child. And lemme tell you - it helps. So if it's "almost bed time" where I'm heading to, it's a Clif bar for dinner or fruit; floss, listerine, tooth brush, face wash and "Heafy plane suit" time. I avoid all airplane food at all costs. I'll get it in the terminal if it's a must… but airplane food is disgusting. I'll fast or eat seeds and grains till I can get something that didn't arrive in a tin-foil sheet, out of a frozen box… cooked in some factory.

4. Heafy plane suit: comfortable (hopefully still semi-fashionable) outfit, hoodie, bandana around mouth (fart fumes, remember?), eye mask, ear plugs, doctor-safe sleeping pills, back pillow (McKenzie lower-back lumbar pillow), any other pillows I can scrounge up - sleep. I recently picked up two new additions… my good buddy from high school and middle school Rajiv (about to become an M.D.) says loading up on an Airborne vitamin before a flight acts as a shield if you're not sick yet. One of my recent vocal coaches recommended a thing bit of Neosporin at all your orifices to prevent illness getting in as well. 

If ever a film completely, accurately depicted the exact feeling of an arrival into Japan via a long flight - it was Lost In Translation. Bill Murray arrives in the plane completely exhausted-looking, justifiably beat from the 10-16 or so hour flight… even in the cab it's a haze. However, once the lights of Shibuya start to encircle the cab, Bill is awoken from his comatose-state… he enters a full state of consciousness and wonderment as he takes in the sights. It's as if childhood innocence has come back to him for the first time since adolescence. 

Shibuya does it to me every time. It's another planet in Japan… especially in areas more so like Shibuya. It's a testament to everything Japan: extremes. So many people… so much technological, futuristic lights flashing away some of the biggest (and oddest looking) J-Pop and J-Rock videos; the restaurants look traditional and classic and maintained as if warped in from the Edo-period… but oh wait - there's an arcade with a giant Pikachu vomiting out light-balls and kids playing pachinko inside of it's stomach. It's a mix of ultra traditional and ultra modern. There's nothing in the universe like that first trip into the lights of Shibuya… it changes you.

My first flight to Japan ever, I didn't sleep a wink in about 48 hours, my nose kept spouting blood every 2-3 hours, I was starving, scared, depressed, homesick… When I took my first proper wander into town… it was like reemerging from the womb. I felt like I had never really lived till that moment. It hurt at first… then it was beauty. Not unlike being tattooed and enjoying the end result when it's healed… or being in your first (not creepy) Turkish wet sauna at 195 degrees, then pouring freezing ice water on your head. That kind of awakening. Thankfully after 10 or so times… all that painful stuff doesn't happen anymore. It's like the awkwardness of being a virgin all over again that first time you hit Japan. 

Unfortunately… (anti-climactic right)… this festival didn't put us in Shibuya!!! Blast!

(to be continued…)

 

I

(Me playing John Petrucci's live 7 string; with John and Corey B. Photo by Jordan Rudess)

John Petrucci and Matt Heafy guitar lesson episode 1: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NEexr-OCbvk

John Petrucci and Matt Heafy guitar lesson episode 2: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yg0xAJzpeKw

John Petrucci and Matt Heafy guitar lesson episode 3: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RgzVutGffSo

John Petrucci and Matt Heafy guitar lesson episode 4: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HG4CdqO9Uvg

I Love New York City… Oh Yeah… New York City (part II)

NYC

I play hard, because I work hard. It ain't all hours of gorging and drankin' and feasting all the time… but that's the stuff that I work towards. We woke up after our night of extravagance and headed to Josh Wilbur's studio in New York. That's where we'd be attempting some new clean vocal parts over the pre-existing "In Waves." 

We caught up with Josh at his really-rad old-building turned renovated-studio space where he played us some of the new Lamb Of God well before it's release. Goddamn is that stuff good.

I warmed up vocals with no real game plan in mind for what I'd be attempting on the track, headed in and laid down the best thing that it could have been. I sang quite brutally for a few hours - trying out some options. It sounded pretty killer, but didn't top the original; but you never know a definitive answer until you try something out. 

We packed up shop, let the engineers do their thing and headed to lunch.

This was a Monte pick this time: Bon Chon. A Korean fried chicken joint. I was familiar with Korean traditional, with Korean tacos, but not Korean fried chicken. Apparently this style of chicken is spreading across NYC (and now the rest of the world) and man is it good. Bon Chon double fries their chicken. That means double the delectable, crunchy, not-good-for-your-body-but-great-for-your-soul outer crispy skin. 

We had the Bon Chon Drums Large: crispy double fried drum stick with soy garlic sauce. We also got some of the Wings, medium with hot garlic sauce. Kimchi Coleslaw was our side. 

Having never done crack, but ever-cognizant of it's metaphors applied to all walks of life - Bon Chon's fried chicken is exactly what I imagine crack to be like to a teeth-grinding addict. The smell alone sends a magical whiff of soy sauce, garlic, fried mystery-batter - all to the olfactory glands, sending your brain into a ravenous shock. The hot touch, and inviting glaze of the just double fried chicken drumsticks tease you all the way into your first bite. 

Imagine the crispiest crispy fried chicken outside/skin you've had… double that - in an almost tempura-battered-ice-cream shell. That's what it's kind of like. I could just eat that exoskeleton - all day long. The meat however, is perfectly cooked - moist, juicy, not dry. This is too much of a good thing. Haven't had Korean fried chicken? Go eat a bunch - it's insane.

Ever the health-conscious man, Paolo didn't eat all his skin - I picked up all his scraps and inhaled that shit. Mine!

Blindingly full and ready to get on with the day… we headed to Roadrunner NYC with Darren and Monte in tow. Today's events outside of the NYC show and trek to the airport hotel (we were due to fly to Japan for about 2 and a half days to play the Loud Park festival, then fly back to finish up the Dream Theater North American support run) were some press videos alongside John Petrucci.

For those of you who don't know, John Petrucci is the lead guitarist of Dream Theater, but also my favorite guitarist of all time. I religiously studied his "Rock Discipline" VHS and manual as a kid - it taught me everything about my disciplined guitar technique. I still use most of the exercises to date for every single show we play as warm ups. 

Now before that… Monte said "If you're a true foodie… you're going to eat some Roberta's next!" Now - I was completely, blindingly, unconsciously full - but here was my long time friend and A&R foodie-buddy calling me out to eat something else great. 

Roberta's is a pizza place in Brooklyn, but there was a mini food-festival going on, right outside of Eataly NYC. They had a mini-pizza oven at their booth, and Monte called me over as he ordered away. 

Montel ordered me the Speckenwolf: white pizza, onion, mushrooms, speck and truffle oil (we think truffle oil at least - not totally sure if it was on there). If pizza was always like Roberta's… if all those shite-sorry-excuse-of-Italian-sort-of-descent-delivery places around the world could do pizza with this sort of care and attention to detail… I don't know - we wouldn't have war… or something. 

Crisped and charred on the outside, personal-sized (if you were actually hungry), minimal, great ingredients. This stuff just worked together. This pizza was a work of art. I since have been attempting to duplicate it at home. NYC just has it all man. 

The video lesson stuff went amazingly - me and JP traded off teaching things to camera, to each other - and were really able to break the ice for the first time. From there - we started hanging in little bursts occasionally - trading music ideas, guitar tips, and all that goodness. My life is pretty surreal at times… at most times, really.

I

I Love New York City… Oh Yeah… New York City (part I)

NYC

I've mentioned before how my memory is pretty bad. It's odd - at times I can't remember bits of my life; on any given day - I usually don't know what time/date/month/year it is. I forget my age, I forget things I've said, I forget who I've met (this one usually bums people out and creates an awkward Curb Your Enthusiasm-theme-song-queued moment). 

We played.. somewhere… before the NYC show on the Dream Theater tour. It was either in Jersey or Pennsylvania. In a neighborhood-esque town in an all seated Theater-hall. The show was alright - the crowd took a ton of effort to get em into it. Me and Paolo were to be picked up by car immediately after the set to drive into Manhattan, grab a bite with Monte (our A and R at Roadrunner and serious-foodie friend of mine) and Darren (our co-manager at 5B management who is also a serious foodie-buddy of mine).

We did the show, piled into a car, got into the city - and checked into the Ace hotel. 

The Ace hotel is the definition of cool. When one merely walks into the lobby - that person will be immediately swept with a sense of: "Oh shit. I am underdressed and far less-cool than everyone in here." At any given time of day or night at Ace, it's the trendiest of trendy kids - dressed in the most current of cool trend-style, either drinking cocktails or working on something on their Macs. I am not exaggerating or criticizing - I wish I looked that cool all the time. Those kids are hip.

The Ace has quickly become a favorite hotel of mine - The hotel itself has multiple things on location that are mind-blowing: The Breslin restaurant, Stump-town (or was it Blue Bottle) coffee, a gourmet sub-shop, clothes stores, accessory stores… everything there is amazing. There's even a killer bar that serves some righteous cocktails and micro-brews. The interior lobby is somewhere along the lines of a cross-between restored-industrial, modern, dorm, rock and roll, and huntsman-lounge (just a dash). It's all sleekly lit, very nicely designed, and welcoming (aside from the fact if you're feeling underdressed and all that by the hanger-outers in the lobby). 

The room has a dorm/rock and roll/renovated loft feel. Iron door, dorm-esque bed, simple, clean design. There is a road-case for a mini-bar, all gourmet snacks and waters and booze here - nothing standard; the bathroom has a European-flare to it - the room I had this time had a killer tub, nice fixtures; friendly little bits and design-charm can be found on the hairdryer bag, the laundry board, and even the take-able polaroid camera. A highly informative survival guide again has that school-feel to it - but in a really familiar, heart-warming sort of way. Free internet to boot. 

I am instantly reminded of school and touring combined in this room - but all in a good way. 

I dressed up a bit, took a deep breath - and headed down to get out with Paolo, Darren, and Monte. 

The whole reason for our trip up to NYC was to get over to a studio and attempt a "clean vocal" pass of the song "In Waves." I know it seems like an odd idea… singing over the chorus of "In Waves," but it was an idea worth not passing up. This would be our pre-party and strategy-dinner on ideas of how to try it out (or at least that's what we'd say to pass our feast off as a "business dinner").

Darren picked our dinner spot for the night, The Meatball Shop. A place that does just that - meatballs. But gourmet and amazing. We ordered the Cesani Chianti to share and began our ordering. Meatball shop is a tiny, newer restaurant with some serious wait-times. People flood the inside and outside. In the nicely lit, very-well designed restaurant, you can see the kitchen in back, chalkboards displaying the menu, specials, and drinks.

My plan of action:

- Chile Relleno Meatballs: pork, jalapeno, poblano, queso fresco, cilantro tomatillo salsa verde and a mother-frickin' fried egg.

- Risotto: porcini mushroom

- Mashed Potatoes (that Monte swears is some of the best damn mashed potatoes he knows of)

- Fennel with walnuts, raisins and parsley

- Garlic collard greens

- Bibb lettuce salad with radish portobella, tarragon croutons, with sherry vinaigrette

The mashed potatoes were creamy, buttery, milky and reminded me of Southern-style mashed potatoes. Those chile meatballs were a super-fun take on the meatball. It pretty much contained most of my favorite ingredients all in one dish. I am an avid-pork advocate, a huge fan of Mexican food (you can certainly detect a heavy Mexican-cuisine influence in this dish with the use of quasi and cilantro tomatillo salsa verde), and that fried egg! Such a great idea. Texturally, just right of what you want from a meatball - still a trip to get the green salsa verde on a meatball - but hell… it's always fun to see a new spin. 

The risotto had more of a thickness than the classic risotto-prep, regardless - I still really dug it. It had a creaminess paired with the cheese and porcini. Thick, fantastic mushroom-flavor. Garlic collards were as good as ever - another hint at some Southern-influence at Meatball Shop; The fennel with walnuts, raisins and parsley was a really interested grilled vegetable dish. 

Obviously, in my normal fashion - I had ordered far far too much food. The bibb salad was just as good as the rest. The vinaigrette covered everything nice and evenly - crunchy, hard, perfect tarragon croutons. 

We all caught up about other amazing meals we've had recently, chatted on the state of the music industry, shared our dishes with each other - and had a great night. 

Of course I had desert: Oatmeal cherry cookie with cinnamon ice cream sandwich. This thing was the size of a baseball. The chewiness of the cherries inside of the oatmeal cookie were beautiful. I love oatmeal cookies, my grandma on my dad's side makes a fantastic one - so I always long to be reminded of family cooking - this one was nice and chewy (no crumbling) and the cherries really added something special. Couple all that with some seriously friggon delicious cinnamon ice cream - and you have one of the best childhood-reminiscent ice cream sandwiches of my recent years. Insane.

We said our goodbyes to Monte and headed back to Ace for a final drink. I had the Voodoo Child: Kentucky bourbon with agave nectar, lemon juice, whisky barrel-aged bitters, ginger beer. When at the right place in NYC - you cannot go wrong. This cocktail was an embodiment of my experience at the Ace: familiarity with a spin of something new - done right, unpretentiously. 

I slept incredibly. 

Asking Triviumandria

Corey. Eat. Fries. (movie)

Pints Of Guinness Makes You Strong

Charlotte, NC

There's no question that seeing Trivium in the midst of a touring bill that reads acts like The Amity Affliction, Upon A Burning Body, I See Stars, Motionless In White and Asking Alexandria may be just a little bit puzzling to those familiar with our usual touring-mates. Well - we've stated both musically and verbally that this is a whole new year for Trivium. 

Already this year in the USA alone, we've toured with Dream Theater, In Flames, (out with) Asking Alexandria and (will be out with) Five Finger Death Punch. I dare you to find another band who can successfully pull off all four of those different tours in a year. You'd be hard pressed to. 

It's amazing how young the AA crowd is… I'm talkin' an average of 14-17/18 being their main demographic… but you will see kids around 8-11 with their parents; and then kids in their 20's. That is an amazing thing for a band - I mean, our demo is young - but not that young. When your audience is that young… they will grow with you and stick with you if you do the right things. Each show night for us… you can see that the AA crowd knows every other band pretty damn well - and us? 60-80 percent first timers - and ya know what? It's working out really well. 

We stick out like a sore thumb… and I love that. The other bands on the tour certainly delve into heaviness and have really honed in their own style - but you can just see it that we come from a different musical planet. I feel bands that take the risk of diversity always bring something interesting to an otherwise mundane, stereotypical musical touring-world. AA is being diverse by bringing us out, and we're challenging ourselves with a new audience by being out with them. 

Everyone (who I've met) on the tour so far is super nice - the AA guys have let us know that Ascendancy was a favorite album of theirs. This is always a mind-blowing thing for us. We are not used to bands liking us. We have never been a critics' band… we have never been a bands' band… we've always been solely appreciated by our fans only. When we first started touring - all the older bands would always be pretty rough on us… cold if I may. It took 5 albums and an over 10-year career to start getting the respect that critically acclaimed bands get on their first album and first year. 

So when the AA guys mentioned they really dug our band - I was blown away and appreciative. 

We've recently been able to hang with them all a bit - and Charlotte was one of our first mass group-hangs. But let's back track for some food…

We did 12 performances in 11 days on the beginning of the AA run… some headliner shows in there, some acoustic performances - we had 3 beautiful days at home - then I flew to Charlotte at Amos' to meet up with the tour. 

As soon as I dropped my bags, I noticed a Greek place within 30 seconds walking - Greek Isles. I hit that up for a Gyro to go. Pretty decent stuff. It was turned out almost too quickly - but it certainly topped the Gyro I had just tried to eat in San Antonio across from the White Rabbit. I'd say… to quote our merch guy Rob… "It was aaaheeeiiight…" 

When dinner time rolled around, I suited up with Paolo and our tour manager Joey to head to a Latin American place I had read about: Pio Pio. We did the well over 1 and a half mile walk to Pio Pio (it even started torrentially down-pouring when we were finally close) and sat down. 

This place had a familiar vibe to it… dare I say a really-put together Nando's vibe? Nando's… yes I know I am typically anti-chain - Nando's is one of the very few chains I seek out. It's damn good stuff - hormone free, wood-fire-grilled Peruvian chicken and chips - hit it if you live in the UK or Australia. 

Pio Pio's! So I would guess this place is a Peruvian establishment - we certainly ordered a heaping feast: The Matador Combo. It was a whole rotisserie chicken, salad, rice and beans, frankfurters and fries, tostones and ripe plantains. This shit was insanely delicious. 35 or so bucks for what could have easily fed four people. 

The chicken was done very simply, no frills or nonsense; the beans were soupy-delicious, and the rice simple. I appreciate a place that can really just like the ingredients be minimal… focusing in on what you're eating - not masking. Hell - even the salad was good. Usually restaurants in the more casual realm blow it with shot salads - this one had a simple vinegar/citrus flavor going on - the avocados were a great touch. 

The plantains were reminiscent of Cuban-style, soft inside/slightly crisp/chew outside; the tostones - heavenly. I was really into the frankfurters and fries. I've never seen that before… but what's nice was the saltiness of the frankfurters went right with the non-salted fries - I'm curious how traditional that dish was… nevertheless - fantastic.

We wandered back, played a great show - then headed to the bar next door.

Tavern is a 10 second walk from the bus lot of Amos' - Rob and I popped in for some Guinness on draft and took a seat. Rob is my food buddy… we both also have an affinity for wellness and homeopathic remedies and natural-concoctions. He got me into Kombucha - I got him back into Neilmed Nasal Saline Sprays. 

Rob taught me recently that Guinness is actually kinda good for you. It's one of the only (if not only) beers that causes no inflammation… it has a good deal of iron… and a few other science-y factual bits that may not be that interesting on this beer blog just yet.

Soon, the Trivium's and crew started popping in, Nick's brother was even there… then the AA band are crew started filtering in as well. 

It's really nice to be able to be on a tour with a band that is closer to our age range than we're used to - amazingly still… the AA dudes are a couple years younger than us. It was great to finally get to have a chat about all the things band dudes get to chat about: beer, shows, guitars, playing… all that good stuff that all us band dudes can easily vent to each other about in that sort of way that each of us knows exactly how the other one feels on all things that come with this lifestyle. 

I know that they are getting a mirror of what we were getting shortly after Ascendancy: young band who is successful… people hating on that hard. I'm sure it's the same bullshit jealousy we were flooded with when we first exploded onto the scene. It was nice to reflect on the fact we've both been hit with that… granted - we still get hit with it 3 albums later! It's just a part of musical-life.

Everyone guzzled down their booze of choice and got to have a good ol' time together. It was nice to break the ice with our new buddies in Asking Alexandria.

Boston

Bahstun!

Boston

The day before the Boston show, we met up with Paolo's cousin Jordan and his wife to get into the city for some food and drinks. I don't recall the last time I was in Boston (if ever even) so I was excited to get into the city and tear it up (food and drink-wise and Trivium-wise). 

We went to one of the "oldest taverns" in the city for some decent seasonal local-brew, then off to one of the "oldest restaurants" in town. I don't recall the names of either, nor are they in my notes - but I hate to say - bum out on the food. I would list it with a warning if possible, but I can't recall - but it was one of those nostalgic places that's more of a tourist-refueling station of food-product than somewhere to get good food. I know there is good food in Boston - but this wasn't it. I should have known - anytime a restaurant has a "thing" like: "oldest" or "banquet rooms available" or "live music" - they're not paying attention to food quality.

The next day was the show day - I was picking the place. I read up on a place called Sam Lagrassa's. Rumanian Pastrami with chipotle honey mustard, swiss cheese and coleslaw grilled on an Italian sesame seed bun. Holy pastrami batman! Without a doubt in my mind - best damn pastrami I have ever had, and I have been to many of the famous, best delis in NYC. This was something special - the chipotle mustard had a sweetness and kick. A perfect balance of yin and yang was the flavor of the mustard. The use of coleslaw was something I've seen in the Pittsburgian-style sandwiches it added a mild-crunch and exciting flavor-play-off when combined with the sweet/spicy mustard. That pastrami… remember that Seinfeld episode where George started eating salted-cured meats in bed and got eating and doin' it all confused? This pastrami will do that to you. 

Carved off of a massive hunk, this crumbly, soft, meaty, salty, delicious meat could have been eaten by itself. The toasted Italian bread was the cherry on top - every single thing had it's place, it all just went. 

We decided to walk/train to the Boston Fine Arts Museum, which apparently has one of the largest collections of Japanese triptych and diptych pieces in North America (those are the things that basically inspired all Japanese tattoos) and once arriving - we all were totally blown away.

I am saving most of my photos of the exhibits for my photography - so the bits I used are more documentation-style iPhone photos and such. The museum has a really intensive collection of some of the most unique Japanese pieces, ranging from statues to paintings to woodblock. Their world-pieces range from Asia to Egypt; armor and weapons to fine art. They even had a few pieces by one of my favorite painters from Britain: JMW Turner. 

If you have the opportunity - get out to that museum.

After the show, we decided to try to hit some of the other great food spots in Boston - unfortunately, most were closed due to the hour and day we were attempting. We stopped at one place, Lucca. 

Lucca. It was hot. Summer time. I think they had about 2 tables at the time. We walked in in tank tops - the restaurant said shirts are required, but they'd be happy to lend us some. Puzzled - but hungry - we said sure… we'll take a look at the attire they'd be bestowing. The over-dressed manager or owner or whoever was running this classy joint brought me an XL blue dress shirt… Paolo - a large purple-thing with a mardi-gras cuff design. He looked like a 12 year old wearing his overly effeminate father's party-attire. I looked like a goon. 

We piled their shirts on the manager booth and ran as quickly as we could.

Good job Lucca. Little did you know that that tattooed hooligan you tried to dress up to impress your other 3 patrons writes about food.

We stopped into another random place in Little Italy for an alright dinner. Just alright. We walked to Bova's afterwards for a really awesome cannoli - the size of my forearm basically. 

So - I hate to say it Boston - but you owe me. 

We headed back to Jordan's to watch Troll 2. Troll 2 has quickly become one of my all-time favorites - it has been hailed, charmingly, as the "best worst movie of all time." It's a heart-warming effort (by an Italian madman) to make sort of a deep-messaged horror-sort of movie… using all people hoping to be extras as main actors… utilizing broken English - directed by a husband and wife duo who spoke little to no english. There isn't a single troll in the movie and Troll 2 has nothing to do with Troll 1. I promise you'll fall in love with this film. Check out the documentary "Best Worst Movie" while you're at it to truly witness what kind of cult-phenomenon this epic film has become. 

Lucca maybe was a foreshadowing of Troll 2… hmmm… 

Yeah. Boston. You owe me. Your art rules, but I know you can do better for food. 

Montreal

L'Auberge Saint-Gabriel, Koko, Juste Nouilles

Montreal

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. 

Palace Kitchen

Seattle

Immediately after wrapping up what was one of the best shows on the Dream Theater tour, Ash/Me, Meg/Evan, Sean/Melissa, and Paolo made our way to another highly recommended place from our friends - Palace Kitchen.

If I weren't in the air right now between Sydney and Melbourne, I could ask Evan who the owner/chef of Palace Kitchen was again… Evan mentioned that one of the best chefs in Seattle owns a few food spots, and that Palace is one of his places. 

A sleekly designed, well-lit, modern-looking New American spot is the Palace Kitchen. Invitingly designed, a large open bar in the center of the floor, tables surrounding - in the back is the kitchen - openly viewable by patrons of the restaurant. Everything here is done right. When you come to a New American spot in a place like Seattle - everything down to the menus, fonts, sources of meats and vegetables, music, lighting, decor, casual (but still uniform) look of the servers - is all done right. Seattle has got to be one of the best food cities in all of North America (alongside Portland, San Francisco, New York (inclusive of Brooklyn of course), and Vancouver).

My apologies for the lighting of the photos… badass/sexy-time lighting in a restaurant make for great times, but difficult photos. 

We all start with the Wood Grilled Chicken Wings with Coriander Cream - an impossibly delicious spin on the classic American pub grub dish. At it's essence, it has all the components of what you would find in hot wings at a bar - however it's all special ingredients. I've stated before that it takes a special kind of chicken dish for me to care at all about chicken - but this was another one of those rare occasions that I was moved by chicken. Their "wings" are roughly half of the chicken, sliced right in half - great bits of white, dark, leg, breast, wing - fun for the whole family. Somewhere around the lines of familiar and new is the "wing sauce" - the coriander cream taking the place of bar bleu cheese mystery goo.

I probably need to start hash-tagging the burgers in my blog… there are a lot. The Palace Burger Royale was Ash and I's shared main: 1/2 pound of hand-ground chuck, Dahlia Bakery onion bun, fries. I washed all that goodness down with a local IPA (Schooners I think it was) - burgers and fries simply need to be eaten with a beer. 

I'm certainly fresh out of adjectives for burgers… but I can tell you without doubt this is a top-notch burger. Palace's burger well tops the last 3-5 burgers you've seen on Kiichichaos easily. Seattle really knows how to do it's food… so stay the hell away from chains - get down and local.

Coconut cake! Light, airy, fluffy, massive. I am in love with all things coconut… couple that love with an obsession with local ingredients, local restaurants - and you have Palace's damn amazing Coconut cake. I'd like to tell you it's healthy… low calorie… but no - I am sure it isn't. This thing is a hunk of cream and dairy and coconut. If you came here stoned… you'd be consuming a whole cake - inducing a diabetic-coma of winter-time-bear-hibernation proportions. Luckily I was just buzzed and only had a slice…

Avec

Chicago

Chicago will forever hold a special place in my heart. Around the age of 5-7 (or so, my memory is bad for all things - that's why I am so happy this blog helps kickstart my premature-Alzheimer-esque memory into shape) my family and I lived in Arlington Heights, Illinois - we'd occasionally do a trek into downtown Chicago here or there.

I remember a massive Asian supermarket my family would always travel to (my mom being Japanese - she was always really into the place - my dad… he's not quite into Asian food - but ever the good sport, he'd tag along) - the place was called Yaohan (I think…). They had little kiosks everywhere that would serve regional little Asian street-food dishes from all around Asia; they had all those odd vegetables you simply can't find anywhere outside of an Asian mega-mart; there were Japanese toy and comic shops… sweet shops… I always remembered a smell of fresh water fish lingering back in the palette, lightly masked by the smell of grilled dough for Okonomi-yaki. 

I'd always grab a bite with the folks, have them take me to see the Gundam or Power Rangers on display… beg for a new toy or sweet… then we'd wrap up grocery-shopping and head home.

Later on in life, we had a gig opening up for Overkill (!!!) at Joe's Sports Bar in Chicago. This must have been around the time I was 18 or 19 or 20 or so… 

Our merch guy at the time (who I went to high school with) was having another friend of ours come out to meet us who just happen to go to the Chicago Art Museum School (not AI, but SAIC) - Ashley. Ash and I went to middle and high school together, but were never really friends (but not not friends). Amazingly it was one of those love-at-first-site (since school) moments… the rest is obviously history.

Off tour, I would juggle time between living in my parents house and living at Ashley's apartment off Briar and Broadway (in boy's town). We were two broke-ass college-aged kids who'd wander around the icy, snowy streets of Chicago - go to the museum for free, grab cheap eats where we could afford - it was great. We'd hit the soda fountain for massive banana splits, or the super cheap local Thai places for meat and noodles (although Ash was a vegetarian at the time (I fixed that in the years to come)). 

Eventually we both settled back to Florida - but it was many fun years in Chicago. (Except for the goddamn snowstorms that would pile up 2-3 feet of snow… delaying my flights back to catch the Chevy Conversion van and get back on whatever support tour we were trucking along on).

Fast forward a bit to when we first brought ol' Nicky Augusto on tour with Trivium. Nick was ("officially") "filling in" for Travis at the time (he was already the drummer from rehearsal one in my eyes/brain) and him and I decided to celebrate him being on tour with us by heading to a place I kept hearing about. Unfortunately, it was just me and the sonny-boy, but we'd be able to put down some chow.

We hit up Avec… a place new to me at the time - and were completely floored. Since that initial first taste of the restaurant, I kept talking about how eff-ing good the place was. Flash forward to the Dream Theater show in the outskirts of Chicago… 

We had a day off, sort of a walk-to-train, train, walk - from the city. Our manager, Justin (one of the people responsible for my food obsession) had flew in to visit us - and I said I had a "band dinner" spot picked out. The four band and J did the walk, train, and walk to Avec. 

Avec's owners also own a handful of other incredible restaurants (Blackbird, Publican, and a few other new ones whose name's slip me) - and one of Avec's "things" are no reservations. I warned everyone it'd be a little bit - but worth it… 

Everyone was dizzily hungry before even putting our names in for the wait list - it'd be about an hour and a half… so we walked to the nearest pub. We hit Haymarket pub and brewery (a large, loud local sports-bar sort of place) - I had the Mathias Imperial American IPA and their Mathias III IPA. Nick and Paolo both had some food from there - I wouldn't dare curb that appetite however. 

We trekked back by our supposed "reservation" time, and it was time to sit and eat.

Avec is beautiful. Somewhere along the lines of looking like a sauna, a sushi bar, and a bento box… it's all clean lines; a rectangular-shaped place; always packed; very communal. The tables and seats are all pretty close to each other - the idea of Avec is basically a place that does Spanish-style tapas with a Chicago flare; a place that has food that goes avec wine.  

This is the kind of place a food-lover flips over… if you go with the right amount of people - you can try several things at once (since tapas usually are more sharing-sized than anything). I did the ordering, naturally.

Our wine was the Muschen '07. 

The house-marinated olives were meaty, big olives - everything an olive should be, just better. The bread at Avec is thick, Euro-style and perfect. I am a big fan of dates… and dates stuffed with stuff is even better than a date alone - Avec's chorizo-stuffed medjool dates with smoked bacon and piquillo pepper-tomato sauce were (and still are) the best date-dish I've ever had. Honestly, it wasn't until I checked the photos out again that I realized that was the date dish… they were so damn big I thought it was the meatball dish. The sweet-date flavor and caramel-y chewiness went perfectly with the crumbly, fennel-hinted chorizo (I think it was fennel at least).

Heirloom tomato and white anchovy salad with market beans, mint and pepitas are certainly for fans of fishy-anchovy-greatness. If you aren't into that - first of all, you're missing out… second of all - you wouldn't dig this. Clean, simple salad - delightfully ocean-y anchovies: salty, fishy, fantastic. The "deluxe" focaccia with taleggio  cheese, ricotta, truffle oil and fresh herbs was quite possibly one of my favorites that night at Avec. The cheeses end up so gooey, liquified and fantastic that it's like a melted-buttery-cheesy-cheese concoction. The focaccia itself was sort of like a super thing almost-Turkish lavash bread, only flattened - the cheese rested inside both lids. 

Wood-oven roasted market shishito peppers with pickled feta was an even simpler dish than the previous eats - and such a bold statement. Shishito peppers are spicy peppers - they more so have the chew of of something like an ancho chili, with a flavor more like a bell pepper - the lightly-flavored-sharpness of the feta and oil was the perfect pairing.

Wood-roasted pork shoulder with roasted baby carrots, black rice and basil pistou had ultra-soft pork, very much so like a mini pot-roast or stew; Marinated hangar steak with baby squash, asparagus, blueberry and bone marrow was a far more interesting cut than the average strip or filet. I'll take something like hangar over the aforementioned cuts any day - it's more interested… granted, tougher - there seems to be more interesting pairings with the hangar (like the obvious blueberry and the bone marrow). 

The house-made turkey sausage with black-eyed pea stew, rapini and Calabrian chili fennel relish found the 5 of us all majorly full. The stew was again very reminiscent of the Spanish-influenced cuisine that is Avec. Fantastic use of interesting ingredients that just went well together.

Since I always need a sweet, we went for something smaller due to our over-capacity stomachs: Peach seasonal sorbet. Simple, delicious. Sometimes even just a sorbet is required amidst over-indulgence. 

We rolled ourselves out of one of my favorite North American spots and headed to Liar's Club for a nightcap. I had the Glenlivet '12 neat - the bar was surprisingly empty that night… I was beat any how from far too much great food.

Thouth By Thouthwetht (day 2)

Skrillex - SXSW

AWK - SXSW

Austin, Tx

SXSX Acoustic: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gl9fhYyXv_U&feature=related

Day 2. I woke up in my impossibly shitty hotel (Homestead Suites at 507 something… a mile from the goodness of SXSW) that was priced at $250 bucks (as compared to their normal $80-something). Front desk said (even though the dude who checked me in at 1am said I'd have till 1pm) said I needed to be out by noon… I was informed that the guy who checked me in didn't' even work at the hotel - well… how the fuck did he swipe my card then? Whatever… I was out. 

Popped by the bus - found it essentially a grave yard… passed out pirates and socks lined the bunk halls. Fortunately, Rob and Joey were keen on a walk into town for some grub. Our mission today was simple: no friggon restaurants… only trucks. Trucks dammit!

We walked a little over a mile to get to Naan Stop, an Indian truck that came highly rated on all our internet sources. I was greeted by a very friendly woman working the window - I asked her what's the best - my prescription was the Parantha Roll with a mixture of Paneer and Chicken. What's funny about Naan Stop is that they don't have naan necessarily… but instead the parantha bread instead. It's like a burrito tortilla but made of naan-type material. My chicken and paneer was heavenly - it's like a home-made hand rolled taco… but with a burrito-sized home. The chicken and paneer (which I think is some sort of special cheese or cheese curd - somewhere between the texture of feta cheese and tofu) came in a (what I thought) was perfectly mild sauce. I guess it was really spicy judging by the mild-tear up by Rob and Joey from theirs. Really slamming. 

Today was eating for sport day… we then immediately headed to Chi'lantro for some Korean/Mexican fusion. I went for the beef and pork bulgogi tacos. Bulgogi is the Korean marinade for their meats - great stuff. It came in the traditional Mexican-fashion of double-tortilla, tons of chopped cilantro. I went for the added kimchi on top (fermented cabbage in a spicy Korean sauce). These were some meaty-ass tacos for 6 bucks. 

Immediately after that - we saw there was a Whole Foods mini-compound really close by. Rob and I are very much so into Kombuchas and homeopathic and holistic goodies; the 3 of us very much so into juices and such - so we popped in to see what the Whole Foods mini-world had to offer.

They had a charging station… fueled by solar panels… food truck, juice bar, quick snacks - they had it all. Whole Foods always seems to be on their game with offering rad things. I was stuffed to heck… and they didn't have any homebrew Kombucha - so I got a GT's Kombucha Trilogy and we were on our way to the Court Yard park for some radio promo with Stalker Radio. 

We got a little lost, then were a little early - so we popped into Halcyon for some coffees. Halcyon is a cool local coffee place that prides itself on selling vices bad for you: coffee, booze, cigarettes - ha! I stuck with an iced coffee - we chatted, met up with Paolo and Corey, then were on our way for some promo. The interview with Stalker went fantastically - really quality questions; we were by the stage that the Kaiser Chiefs and Keane were about to play on… but had to head back to the hotel to rehearse for our acoustic performance coming up at JR's.

On our walk back, we passed Madeline Creamery and couldn't pass it up. My selection: Candied Bacon and Maple; Mango, Saffron and Pistachio. Insanely great. I love local, small-batch, home made ice cream - I am a sucker for it. Pistachio has recently become a major favorite of mine - this one had large hunks of the nut in it - the subtle saffron complimented… mango was something you noticed on the finish. Candied bacon and maple was something that would have went delightfully with bourbon. 

Making our way back into the front lounge at our spot at that shot-ass Homestead, we rehearsed a batch of songs to see if they'd even work as acoustics. We had our normal 3 down: "Built," "Maiden," "Dying." But we tried out "In Waves," "Like Light To The Flies" and "Black." Obviously (if you went to the 3-song show) only the normal 3 worked out. 

Next - I figured I'd grab an abbreviated yoga-session and a quick shower. It can't ever be that simple on the road though, can it? Kids ask… "what're the bad parts about touring?" Well here's one:

You walk into your shared hotel room/shower room/toilet room. You share it with your entire band and crew (10 people in this case) and there it is… smelling like a combination of moth-balls, distilled/pickled vinegar; there are body-waste-streaked towels strewn across the bed, counter, sinks, fridge, TV; there is garbage everywhere but the trash can - half drank beers, sodas, chips, rotting fast food… there is freshly caked facial hair clogging the sink - long hair smashed and stuck against the mirror… in the shower, there's freshly trimmed ball and ass hair lining the entire (already filthy) tub. More hair clumped on the walls. There are toiletries everywhere… and filth and stickiness and other grotesque nonsense. 

I flip. I send a mass text (we communicate via mass text on tour) a really scathing threat to everyone who lives on our bus basically that if this happens again - Trivium won't be forking over the money for day room/shitter/shower rooms for ingrates. It was pretty vicious. Deservingly so in my opinion.

I clean the room up myself… do some yoga, shower, then prep to head back into town again.

We make plans to meet up at East Side King (a place recommended to me by a chef in Orlando, Tony Adams - who runs Big Wheel; and several of Rob's friends in town). Paolo, Joey and I luckily grab a cab and head to Liberty Bar (where East Side King resides in it's backyard). Liberty is a rad spot - hip kids fill the joint; it's away from the hustle and bustle of out-of-towners flooding the streets of the main drags of SXSW. However - this place is packed with the more-so locals. 

We head into the back yard where one of the billions of indie-bands of SX is playing - and line up. The line doesn't move… 5… 7 minutes. Unyielding. We grab some Fire Eagle IPAs hoping to pass the time… then we notice stage time is creeping up - we have to pack up and call it a loss. We were bummed.

We luck out - there is a sister location only a minute walk away! We get to the Ruckle (?) location and line up… the kid opens the window "Uh… we're closed for 45 minutes or so." Defeated, we slunk away with lowered heads and collapsed shoulders.

The walk to JR's revealed tons of encampments of food trucks - some promising-looking, some dismal. Eventually after 3 or so of these clusters, we hit a decent looking batch. My cohorts (Joey, Justin, Paolo and Rob) all grab something from one spot… I stop at Love Balls (yes… Love Balls). Love Balls does Tako-Yaki - Japanese dough balls with bits of octopus inside, usually some bonito flakes on top, okonomi-sauce on top. These are very different from their Osakan-origins - they look the same… but are a little more grilled, a little less quick and efficient than the classic… but nevertheless, real good stuff. My 6 bucks gets me 6 tako-yaki balls; 4 bucks get me Yaki-Onigiri. Onigiri is a hand-made rice triangle… something mothers usually make their kids and pop in their lunch boxes. My mom would make this a lot when I was a kid. 

The onigiri here didn't have any ume-boshi or salmon inside… but was grilled in garlic and laid on top of big nori - this was a delightful, simple little dish. It was just fried rice triangles with some soy and garlic, and it was really something fantastic. I think my buddies wish they got what I did.

Wandering to Jr's full and tired… we pass more and more people and music - the ears were starting to ring; the stomach starting to whimper in fullness.

I was pretty nervous when we showed up to JR's. I knew there'd be quite a few Trivium kids expecting full Trivium… not an acoustic 3/4's of Trivium. When we arrived, Turbo Geist was wailing away another high-energy set of aggressive/melodic punk. Man… I see why this is the "old" Emo's. It's a junk-pile if you're in a band. Our drum tech apparently had his dick grabbed by another patron at the urine-trough… he had to pin the dude against a wall with a fist cocked… only to have the dude try to grab it again, duck out and run off. 

As we warmed up and changed and all - The Soldier Thread delivered a great acoustic set. TST is another 5B artist who, I've unfortunately never been able to see a full-band set of. I've only caught their acoustic set twice - but it is great. Female fronted… dancey/poppy Indie? 

Since the only men's toilet had brown-liquid and teeth and beer bottles inside of it… I had to sneak into a nearby hotel to use their facilities. There's another shot-fact of touring life: the bathroom scene. People - don't take your office toilet for granted… most of the time we have to share a toilet with 50-pigs who have the urine-stream of a garden sprinkler. Sanitary, right?

The room was more packed than it was the whole day for our set. Granted - we only delivered 3 songs… but I was able to chat a lot more than the usual Trivium set to due the casual-nature of the acoustic performance. The friends that showed up were amazing - we had an amazing performance and were off sooner than we knew it. 

More industry friends and band friends to catch up with… then we popped across the street to check out the Sumerian Showcase to see our new friends in Asking Alexandria. 

Now - I know metal purists are iffy on them… hell - those same metal-purist pricks are iffy on us. AA delivered what was the most intense set I've ever seen them deliver. Danny was a lethal front man that night… delivering crushing screaming, brilliantly-punk-raw charged singing - he even had the crowd tear down the fences that encircled their stage. They did great. 

My booking agent Tim forced some Jack shots down our throats… we had a buncha beers - then heard Skrillex was playing at JRs! We caught up with our buddies from Upon A Burning Body… then went to catch some Skrillex.

Right before them… I got to see the juggalo-tastic Doctor Doom? (I think it was them… something gangster rap with a white dude with a weird mo-hawk thing - he had a sick rap voice… but wow - not my cup of tea). 

Hate on Skrillex all ya like kids… the dude deserves all the great things that are coming his way. He makes what he wants, the way he wants it… I heard he lived from floor to floor in between the time of From First To Last and Skrillex - and now? He's on top of the world. A mid-twenty-something kid with multiple grammies, selling out places all over the globe. I am damn proud of him. He is making great music for people to have good times. His set was pummeling-loud and a great time for all who were there. 

It was time for food again. I got a second order of the Naan Stop chicken and parantha and we were on our way to some tent with Andrew WK playing. 

Shiner Bocks were the best looking thing on the menu… and with em in hand, we saw the party-metal-kings take the stage. I've never been to an AWK show… and it was everything I ever heard and thought it would be: basically a nutty-ass party. People flying around, everyone pumping fists - just a party all around really. 

He headed to Cheers to meet up with Sam from Asking and had our final drinks and then a walk back to the bus for a long sleep before the next show. 

All in all… I ate… I drank… I watched bands… I bro'd down… success. 

Thouth By Thouthwetht (day 1)

 

Austin, Tx

Waterloo: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kz8RaQs9u1Y

The last time Trivium played SXSW was 2005 on the Road Rage Tour at what is now the "new" Emo's. I vaguely remember the performance, but it was alongside Still Remains, The Agony Scene and Three Inches Of Blood. Although having only played once on SXSW, I am very much so aware that it is basically where all the music world of the US (and the rest of the globe) combine onto the streets of Austin for several days of music, food, booze and schmooze. 

Initially, we heard we were due to play a metal showcase - then only weeks before, it was swapped to being invited to play Waterloo Records' showcase show and 5B Management's showcase at the "old" Emo's (now JR). Waterloo Records is one of the last strongholds in the USA for real record shops (selling vinyl, CD, DVD, band merch) - it's not unlike Amoeba Records in LA… picture a small Empire Records without Liv Tyler and the chick who shaves her head. 

The last time we played Austin, we were far away from Downtown - but this time, I was cognizant of the fact that we'd be in the heart of it all. I pre-warned my fellow Triviums and Trivium-crew that some serious eating would be taking place on all of our dates in Austin… We woke up in the bus at the convention center to pickup our credentials… and it was time to freakin' eat.

Rob (singer of Koufax/ Trivium's merchandising extraordinaire (also works with bands like The Get Up Kids, Larry the Cable Guy and other note-worthy acts as tour manager and merch)) is one of my main food-partners when touring North America and Europe - and since our other food-buddy Joey (Trivium's tour manager/ front of house sound engineer (also has tour managed As I Lay Dying, Coheed And Cambria and many others) was busy doing his tour-daddy work of the day getting our credentials - we hopped out of the bus with Corey Beaulieu to go start tackling some of Austin's best.

To explain in layman's terms (sort of): what's fantastic about Austin is that it's like a really hot chick (or dude, if you will) who knows they've got their shit goin' on… but is still super cool to you for some reason - giving you what you want and need (if you know how to get it). Austin is one of the spots in America for great food, drinks, art, music and people - it has all that without the pretense, without the stuck up nose, without the elitism. 

We tried to hit Turf N Surf initially (their site said open at 11), but their owner meanly shouted "We're closed!! 1 hour - come back!" So we wandered further to a spot Rob knew of - 24 Diner. 24 Diner is conjoined with Waterloo Records, and today there was a stage about the size of a two car garage setup in the parking lot, fenced in. This would be where chaos would soon ensue. But first - food.

24 Diner is very much so what I dig… a New American joint with a diner-feel that prides itself on carrying local produce, local sources - doing familiar dishes with slight spins or just their own way completely. I order the Chicken and Waffles with a fried egg (made from yeast-risen dough with butter, bourbon vanilla and raw sugar. Grade A light amber Vermont maple syrup accompanied. Boneless fried-chicken, brown sugar butter) - damn good. This thing was comedically large - there is no way even a stoned linebacker should finish this behemoth. The waffles were alcoholic - straight bourbon-flavored. The chicken was not skimpy in quantity by any means (I had to add the egg due to having it done that way in a few other spots around the country) - just great stuff. Corey got the avocado burger, Rob the tuna sandwich - we all (adorably) shared a Peanut Butter and Chocolate shake in 2 little glasses with me and Corey having two straws in ours. That thing was righteous. It tasted like the best peanut butter and the best chocolate you've ever had… in liquid form… for instant glucose-injection to the system. I tried to time this meal out 3 hours preshow… but I was still full during screaming "In Waves." You try that… it sucks.

We were all excited and a touch nervous about the Waterloo showcase. It was amazing that we were the only metal band on the performance - but the other bands were so far from the spectrum of metal - I was almost a little like… "uh… are we too much for these kids?" I'm talking 14-17 year old indie-girls there for Fun. kinda-thing. Yeah - we were playing with Fun. I couldn't believe it - I'd been rockin' their new record recently, I really feel like the 2nd track on the record sounds like Freddie Mercury - so I like it.

We came up a few seconds early and told the crowd - basically - "who the F we were" and "what the F we were about"… always a good ice breaker for a new crowd. I could tell quickly that 80-95% of this crowd had never heard of us… maybe never heard metal personally live - and by the end? By "F-ing explode" we had everyone moving… moshing, headbanging - people were killing it. That had to have been one of the most genuinely fun shows of recent memory - I love the opportunity to show people something new - and get them into it. 

(This paragraph was added a few days after the original typing, immediately after finishing the "South By So What" festival...)

Those young indie girls… who maybe got into Fun. through their alleged Glee rendition - rocked out ten times harder than 80% of the crowd at the tongue-in-cheek named festival in Dallas. And the hundreds of thousands of attendees of the real South By Southwest certainly trumped the 2000 or so crowd of the "So What" festival. SXSW is about diversity - showcasing all sorts of music from all over the spectrum - it's not about being complacent in similarity. SXSW does it right. 

We crushed the show, did a meet and greet for some awesome Trivium kids and some new friends - cleaned up - then me and Rob headed into town (the others were going back to… pre-game? Who knows… miss out is more like it). We hit up Jackalope for some Fire Eagle IPAs and began catching up with label-friends, management-friends and other industry-buddies. 

Having never explored SXSW before - I can tell you - it's a madhouse. It's like an adult Disney… it's like Mardi Gras with clothing… it's 1,000's of bands playing 100's of clubs everywhere in a town that is ready for it. I feel bad for the locals - but hell - their economy must kill after the fest. People guzzle down beer from the early a.m. to the… early a.m…. chowing down on some of the best damn food trucks in the country. 

We hit Trinity to meet up with one of Rob's buddies bands; Justin Arcangel (Trivium's manager meets up with us… unfortunately his plane broke down so he missed what would have been one of his favorite Trivium shows (J prefers when I'm a little… meaner… to the crowd (and I was))). No local drafts?? So I opted for Guinness. We made plans to make our way over to Iron Works BBQ for dinner. We walked over there and tried to make plans to see some acts (Rob and I wanted to see Andrew Bird and Fiona Apple - but so did the rest of Austin - so that was out) and then decided… whatever we see - we see. No plans. 

Iron Works had a line out the ass… as did and would all places in Austin around dinner time. I'm always skeptical with BBQ out, since I've married into an incredibly Southern-family. My in-laws do BBQ better than anywhere and everywhere I have ever been to in the world. This is no exaggeration. Even Iron Works was majorly beaten by Tammy and Ross. I couldn't blame Justin and our label and booking agents - they're all North Easterners… the Yanks' always want BBQ in the South. 

You can see quickly that this place is legendary. It smells like BBQ-ing meat… pics of George Dub-yuh Bush, Mitten Romney, Obamy and others all greet you to your left. The air is sticky humid in delicious Southern-air and BBQ-sauce fumes. The meat pits are impressive as heck - mountains of brisket and sausage was all I could see. I did the Brisket, Sausage, Pecan Pie and a Saint Arnold Amber. Onions, potato salad, pickles, hot peppers and the ubiquitous white bread slice accompanied. Don't get me wrong… this is good stuff - it just can't beat home-cooked BBQ… if you don't have access to kick-ass home cooked BBQ - try this place out. Maybe even the gas-station BBQ-combo, Rudy's… I hear Ruby's rocks too. I've yet to try Salt Lick even. So yeah - decent - Brisket was a touch dry - the meats required the sauce more than I feel like they needed to; the sausage was just aiight. 

We headed to Barbarella Patio to see the Metalsucks showcase. Man - was everyone from my whole musical-life in Austin - ran into Roadrunner past and present, The Agency, 5B, Metal Injection, Metal Hammer UK, Mike from Darkest Hour, even the fine folks from Metalsucks. Metal Injection and Metalsucks have always been super nice dudes, and great supporters of the Triv - so it was great to catch up with everyone. 

I came in as Black Tusk was still rocking out. Beastly heavy, 3-piece: sludgy, trashy, punchy, heavy-as-balls mastodonian-band (not comparing to - simply using the primal beast as adjective for Tusk's style). Intronaut was up next - spacial, jam-band (but with metal and post-hardcore roots (if you will)) - elements of post-metal, some proggy bits in there. I feel the bass was mixed loudly that night, however - the bass lines were so damn interesting, I was happy they were cranked up a smudge. It was really interesting that to the far left and far right, both guitarists were doing main vocals simultaneously at most times. If I had to compare to bands - I'd say a touch of Neurosis, Isis, Tool (merely in the bass doing catchy prog-style lines) - one dude at the show called them a Metal Phish. Great stuff. 

We said our goodbyes and headed to the British Music Embassy for the Raw Power Management showcase (Raw Power: Rise To Remain, Bullet For My Valentine and many others). We came in during the singer (?) of Fightstar's solo-acoustic band - decent stuff; then Turbogeist took the stage (actually a 5B management band; one of the band members is Mick Jagger's son). Turbogeist is really a killer punk band. Very aggressive while still minting a great sensibility for melody (in a Misfits sorta way ofcourse). I really appreciated the 3 front guitars (2 guitars, 1 bass) doing a triple onslaught of vocals at the same time - it really takes you back to when punk was great. Turbogeist really did a great job. 

Around this point, we were hanging with all the aforementioned Trivium-industry people; Paolo and Corey and Joey showed up - Rob went to a buddy of his' show… then Clown and Craig from Slipknot showed up - we hung with them a bit. By this point - I was beat to hell… I'd been eating, walking and drinking essentially all day - whilst being battered with some great (some not-so-great) music. I did the 1-plus mile walk back and the boys stayed and hung. 

Paolo usually doesn't drink much on tour… apparently when I left, he was going shot for shot with Clown, Craig and Corey - Paolo allegedly alternating between Jack, Jaeger, Vodka and other stomach-twisting varieties. He was hung over for two days afterwords… 

Day one. Success.

Monkey Bridge

Seattle

The double-date food combo of Megan/Evan and Ashley/Matt is something that seems to be a common theme in my Kiichi Chaos-ings. It was the Seattle show of the Dream Theater tour when Meg and Ev picked Ash and I up to (once again) eat some great food in Seattle. 

To date, I feel like I've eaten almost everywhere worth eating at in Seattle - and I've always been very pleasantly surprised how amazing the food has been. 

Our lunch spot was Monkey Bridge, a Vietnamese joint. If you haven't been to proper Vietnamese before… or are one of those people who think all Asian food is either mall-food-court fried rice and sweet and sour pork (crap) or sushi… you are wrong. Every Asian country (and region for that matter) has something new and exciting to offer - don't get me wrong, you can go to the wrong place, you can get something terrible made by someone who doesn't give a shit about your food experience… food takes a bit of digging. I have found that every single one of my "random" food drop ins (going into somewhere with no research, recommendation, or preparation) of recent - have been absolute shite (even in places like Paris, Vancouver, Sydney - there is food that sucks… you just have to evade that crap - I can help).

Vietnamese is a cuisine of beauty. From it's humble traditions of mainly being street foods you can get in Vietnam - nowadays in the rest of the world - you find those street foods in a restaurant. In Orlando, near where I live, there is a little Vietnam. You can find some really damn good Vietnamese restaurants. Places known for their Pho (Vietnamese noodle soup - traditionally, beef noodle soup), places known for their Bahn Mi (Vietnamese sub - heavily influenced by the French (tracing it's roots from the French colonization of Vietnam)). These are the two main things to look for if you're starting off with Vietnamese food - if your Vietnamese spot doesn't do either of these well… run like hell.

Monkey Bridge is a more upscale representation of Vietnamese. I am more used to the down-home, semi-shabby interior, office park-ceilinged, humble Vietnamese hole-in-the-walls - so it was interesting to see the more so higher-brow Vietnamese joint.

I ordered the Vietnamese Ham and Egg Baguette (Bahn Mi): French baguette spread with a homemade mayo, slices of Vietnamese ham, fried egg, cilantro, and a drizzle of soy sauce. Rice pudding soup accompanied. This was a great contemporary spin on the Bahn Mi (Bahn Mi typically has more "creep meats" as my wife calls it - the "good stuff" as I call it: things like head cheese-esque lunch meats, tendon-derived yummy bits and all) but! This would be a great introduction to see where the Bahn Mi is nowadays. Clean flavors, clean meats - the ever-so-required fried egg (I think all Asians want a fried egg on their everything), crispy, perfect baguette. Again - I emphasize that this is the cleaned up, modernized version - a great intro if you're new to Vietnamese. 

I rate Vietnamese places by their Bahn Mi and their Pho. I usually opt for the Pho Dac Biet (I believe that translates to something along the lines of "everything but the kitchen sink" in Vietnamese: typically brisket, rare slices of beef, mystery beef balls, tendon, tripe, and some other offal-goodness), Monkey Bridge Noodle was noodles in chicken brother with prawns, fish balls, quail egg and Vietnamese ham, topped with green onion, cilantro and fried shallots. The traditional toppings of bean sprouts, basil, jalapeno, and lime came with (make sure you put all that stuff in your Pho - makes it better). 

Monkey Bridge's house Pho was again, a contemporary spin on something traditional - and having to this day, only had super-traditional Vietnamese - this was a fun flavor eye-opener. It contained about the same number of the Dac Biet - but just obviously different things. The quail egg and fish balls were a great combo alongside the other ingredients.

Monkey Bridge did some pretty solid stuff. I may be partial to the traditional-stuff, as I've hinted at in this episode, but I'd say this would be a good starting point to work your way backwards into the classics.

Fork

Boise

My hard on for good New American is an obvious dead giveaway - when in North America - I always want the best of the New American-cuisine. 

I think it's because of the whole package… you know what you're supposed to be getting in to. Familiar dishes, with a gourmand-twist… the use of local, seasonal, real ingredients; typically (hopefully) sleek modernity paired with a rustic-comfort and sensibility in the decor and presentation of menus, fonts, and interior. Unpretentious is a must at these places. I am not into the snotty high-end ultra-lounge-looking "New American" places that give New American a bad name. 

These places usually have simple names too… and it's usually the initial cat call that sends me checking out the restaurants reviews like I'm checkin' out a chick. I made a funny observation today (in Sydney, Australia on Sound Wave Festival) to my guys… I caught myself cruising a restaurant like I was about to pick it up. So yeah… I have a food problem.

We were in the midst of yet another day off set out in the outskirts of Boise - it took a bit of research… but we found Fork. We grabbed a cab and headed into the city.

I've since been back here again on a more recent tour - but my first date with Fork went fantastically. Like I mentioned before with 38 Central, there are a couple elements within Fork that they need to add to work with the city and the clientele of the locals - things that sort of throw the true New American thing for a loop - but nevertheless - food is more important than any of that hullabaloo. 

I am not into Vodka cocktails. Vodka cocktails typically are something you find in an "Ultra Lounge" or a "Vip Bar"… it's (typically) a club-er-alcohol when an ingredient in a cocktail (I am up for being proven wrong on this if someone can show me a classic or modern cocktail that uses Vodka well). Fork: Gin. The way it needs to be for a good cocktail. 

We start with Z's Bucket (Bardenay dry gin muddled with fresh berries, basil, lemon juice and soda spirits) and the Cucumber Cooler (Hendrick's gin (best damn gin I know of), St. Germaine (a new love of mine in a cocktail) Elderflower, muddled cucumber, hand squeezed fresh lime, and fresh cracked pepper. Both were refreshing, a hint floral - and pretty darn good cocktails. Looking at the Cooler, it reminds me quite a bit of a few classic cocktails - The Aviation, one of my old favorites - seems to possibly be a root-ancestor of the drink. The use of cucumber and pepper was definitely an interesting, but complimentary idea.

The Grilled Jumbo Artichoke is something I noticed on a lot of tables at Fork, so I had to have it: Garlic basted jumbo artichoke, fire kissed and served with sauce remoulade. The heart eats like a normal artichoke heart, but you have to get a method and flow going with biting down on the leaf and pulling the "meat" away - I found it fun. A simple dish, a great dish - I don't think I'd had jumbo artichoke before - the remoulade was similar to an aioli - the starter really concentrated on the flavors of the artichoke - not too much mudding it up.

Idaho - Potatoes are a must. The House Chips were hand-cut Idaho russets, chile-lime salted and served with Fork sauce. Greasy, crispy, salty, yummy chips. It's like all the joy you'd get from childhood of tearing into a bag of chips… only you know with these it's quality ingredients, it's house-made, and it's damn good. (Maybe not good for you… but certainly healthier than the factory-made imitators to house-made).

The Greenbelt salad was field greens, shredded Ballard Farms cheddar, red onion, dried sweet corn and ginger vinaigrette. The corn niblets were crunchy - replacing what could have been croutons - a pretty awesome thing. The vinaigrette was the proper amount of acidic and citrus-tasting. 

I had seen on tables when walking in, this bowl of what reminded me of those Pik-nik (or whatever they are called) shoestring-fry-type-things from childhood. It looked sort of like a massive soup with fries or maybe moules frites - little did I know that it was to be my main: Local Ale-Braised Short Ribs (fork tender Northwest beef, garlic honey mustard sauce and smashed potatoes. The short ribs were hour-long pot-roast-style tender - juicy and easily chopped with a spoon; the shoestring-fries were crispy and fantastically a touch-greasy - when they made contact with the meat or sauce, they quickly became delightfully marinated and soaked in a great way. 

The Urban Burger was brisket and ground sirloin, blended together, with cheese, pickle and Fork sauce on the side. The parmesan fries from Fork were crispy, slightly tender inside, perfectly salted and dusted with airy cheese. All of that went just right together.

Amazingly (and typically for me) we still opted for desert - some house-made ice cream and some sort of cream… unfortunately - I can't find notes on those final two bits - but I recall being very impressed with the ice cream.

Fork shows that Boise definitely can bring it in the food department.