A True Story

Andrew Smith may be the most unassuming name for a superb writer, but, alas, brilliance thy name is Andrew Smith. A prolific writer with an unmatched ability to blend the absolutely typical with the completely out of this world, Smith will, if we are lucky, continue to put his words out into the world.

I first learned about Andrew Smith from a brief review of Grasshopper Jungle. Intrigued by the book's concept, I checked it out from the library and devoured it over the course of two evenings. As is my pattern, I then proceeded to read everything else Smith published. Winger and 100 Miles Sideways were standouts. Some of his other books are a little trippy for my taste, but a well-written book is readable even if the subject matter is not as engaging as one hopes. In last year’s Rabbit and Robot, one of characters is Maurice, a bisexual talking giraffe with a French accent. Thus it was with both excitement and a small amount of trepidation that I approached Exile From Eden, the continuation of the Grasshopper Jungle story. 

Where Grasshopper Jungle is the story of Austin and Robby, who unwittingly unleash a plague of giant, deadly praying mantises in Iowa, Exile From Eden follows Arec, Austin’s teenage son, who does not remember a world before the plague of the unstoppable army. Eden is the underground safe haven in which he has grown up both uninhibited and sheltered at the same time. Arec may live with a certain freedom that a lack of societal norms allows, but his grandmother, who runs Eden with an iron fist, remembers the “rules”. And her rules cause Arec to question everything he has come to know. 

When Austin and Robby do not return from an aboveground excursion, Arec decides he must find them. Not only that, but he needs to leave Eden; the pull of possibility is too strong to resist. Unbeknownst to Arec, a fellow child of Eden, Mel, hides out in his van in order to join his search team. Mel and Arec grew up together, absent the societal constraints pressed upon pre-unstoppable army kids, but always with Arec’s grandmother there to remind them. Mel and Arec are coming of age and their hormones begin to rage in ways that they both struggle to comprehend but also understand in the purest way.

Alongside the story of Arec and Mel’s mission is the story of a younger kid named Breakfast and his companion Olive. Breakfast and Olive are surviving in the post-unstoppable army world without the protection and comforts of a place like Eden. Breakfast is wild and wily in a way only a child growing up with the complete absence of structure can be. As the plot propels Arec and Mel and Breakfast and Olive forward, each pair is similarly on the move, to the next safe place, to the next source of gasoline or fresh clothes. The story continues, each pair encounters some fellow survivors and unstoppable soldiers, but to reveal too much about the plot here would be to rob you of the enjoyment of seeing the story unfold as Smith intended.

The setting of Exile From Eden may be fictional but the humanity in the characters is undeniably real. It's impossible not to respect Smith’s ability to articulate the myriad of emotions required for human existence - pre or post-unstoppable army. Exile From Eden does not lack resolution, but I am certainly hopeful that there is more to this story, that Arec and Mel and Breakfast and Olive continue to adapt and evolve, learning and relearning how to recreate a world forever changed. 

Not Like It Was Before

Bandstand opened and closed on Broadway on 2017, but, despite its' short run, the show garnered a Tony nomination for Best Orchestrations and won the Tony for Best Choreography. A perfect show it is not, however, Bandstand deserves praise for addressing issues not typically found in the plot of a Broadway musical and the strength of the choreography elevates the entire show.

Bandstand is an original musical from Richard Oberacker and Robert Taylor, directed and choreographed by Andy Blankenbuehler. It follows Donny, a recently returned WWII veteran. A singer/songwriter, Donny struggles to find his footing in post-WWII America, and decides to participate in a national songwriting competition and enlists fellow veterans to join him. Along the way, each veteran copes with the effects of war in their own way and with varied levels of success.

Zack Zaromatidis leads a talented touring cast. As Donny, Zaromatidis skillfully conveys the wide-ranging emotions Donny experiences upon returning home to a place that does not feel like home anymore. Jennifer Elizabeth Smith is Julia Trojan, recently widowed, whose husband served with Donny joins the guys on stage. Julia instantly clicks with the band and soon enough the Donny Nova Band featuring Julia Trojan is playing clubs all over Cleveland, and, eventually to New York City. There are moments wherein the plot could have taken more risks, but certain choices must be commended. For instance, when the inevitable romance sparks between Donny and Julia, it does not take over the plot, rather, it simply folds into the fabric of their healing. The members of the Donny Nova Band play their own instruments on stage, and while some are more natural actors than others, each brings an excellent level of musical talent. The ensemble is strong as well, working incredibly hard to propel the story and create the feel of the show while belying the athleticism required to perform Blankenbuehler’s choreography.  

Blankenbuehler’s choreography is as integral to the show as any of the characters. And Bandstand is definitively Blankenbuehler. Each dancer seems to grow six inches on stage because his choreography elongates the body. The fluidity, stretch and dimension in the movements is incredible. Not only that, but Blankenbuehler’s choreography helps to tell the story rather than simply comment on the story. The ensemble of dancers transports the audience from the foxholes of WWII, to the clubs of Cleveland, to the hustle and bustle of New York City. 

For Donny, Julia and their bandmates, life is not - and never will be - the way it was before the war. And their acceptance that it never will be allows the healing process to begin. When Donny tells Julia to "sing because you just need to sing," he is not only speaking of singing, and he is not talking only to Julia.

The Kitch Lit Series: Dessert?

There is no good explanation as to why there are Easter-hued cupcakes on the cover of When in Doubt, Add Butter. You see, Gemma is a personal chef, not a baker. But sugar sells, in the cereal aisle and on bookshelves, so, I suppose, to place blame for this red herring would be to blame myself, the sugar-hungry consumer.

Gemma Craig is single in her late thirties (meaning, still quite young, but too old to conform to societal norms) and she leads a quiet life. She truly loves cooking for a living, though it may not be as financially lucrative as some other options. Gemma maintains a close relationship with a fellow chef/server and her cousin who lives nearby, but her circle of trust is pretty small and coupledom is not part of her MO. Gemma lives vicariously through her clients and focuses her time providing sustenance to others rather than nurturing herself.

We meet Gemma's clients and learn their food proclivities and peculiarities. There’s the uberwealthy family whose matriarch is seemingly allergic to anything with flavor, the potential Russian mobsters, homebound Willa and a mysterious man, "Mr. Tuesday," with whom she communicates solely through short notes left on the kitchen counter. They seem to share a similar sense of humor and would likely get along, but they never cross paths. Not knowingly, anyway. The plot relies on several very coincidental circumstances, but it is such a fun, breezy read that the contrivance is easily accepted. 

When in Doubt, Add Butter is kitch lit lite. The focus is not really on the food or the profession of cooking, but that is not a surprise. Harbison does not pretend to set out to make a book focused solely on the craft of cooking. Gemma’s takes a risk one evening that leads her down a path that is equal parts familiar and uncharted territory. By the end of the book, Gemma’s circle of trust has grown like a soufflé baking in the oven and her journey is just as deliciously light and fun.

Not Just Your Imagination

As an elder millennial, my adoration of the 50s and 60s sound was rarely understood by my contemporaries, most of whom were saving their allowance for NSYNC tickets. But, you see, I was born a generation too late. The rise of Motown is a seminal moment in music history, and to have witnessed the ascent would have been ideal but, alas, I must rely on books, movies and jukebox musicals to transport me to times gone by. Thus it was with great excitement that I marched over to the Imperial Theatre and purchased one of the last four partial view for Ain’t Too Proud - The Life and Times of The Temptations (note: when the ticket agent tells you it's partial view, that's a truth fact--how many gents were in the group? I usually only saw three). While the show suffers from a bit of a lack of focus, Ain’t Too Proud has a couple of things going for it: The Temptations music catalog and Sergio Trujillo’s choreography. 

Ain’t Too Proud is a jukebox musical in the vein of Jersey Boys and Beautiful, wherein the group's music catalog is used to tell the story of the group itself. In this case, Otis Williams (played by Curtis Wiley on this night) acts as narrator for the story of a group that rockets to fame and subsequently struggles to navigate the positive and negative consequences of such a meteoric rise. And Williams, whose personality and ambition put him in the role of de facto leader, fights to keep The Temps together and relevant. Surrounding it all, a tale as old as time: sex, drugs and rock and roll. 

Dominque Morisseau’s book keeps the action moving. With families back home, members spiraling into addiction and the surrounding political climate, there is enough drama to fill a couple of musicals. The moments that touch on the growing civil rights movement are strong. In fact, the scene in which the group learns of the death of Martin Luther King, Jr. is the most powerful in the show. That said, because most of the drama takes place within the group itself, the forays into the outside world somehow feel a little out of place. Morisseau faced a difficult task. Ignoring the political climate would have been ignoring an important component to the group's rise but highlighting only the group dynamics is perhaps more suitable to the style of show.

What is not out of place is Sergio Trujillo’s Tony-winning choreography. As one who longs for the days of synchronized man dancing, Trujillo’s choreography is spot on. The knees, the hips, the arms and wrists pop, bend and swoop in perfect synchronization. The entire cast does a stellar job of making the moves look like second nature.

And, of course, there is the music. Most Temps songs are a variation on a theme: love. Loss of love, longing for love, begging for love, The Temps covered it from all angles. The hits ("My Girl," "For Once in My Life") no doubt receive just as raucous a greeting every night as they did on this chilly fall evening. Thirty one songs are listed in the Playbill and pretty much every single one causes an eruption of applause. Sometimes the musical numbers feel packed in, perhaps not given room to breathe, but they are all hits, not a bad apple in the bushel. 

Ain't Too Proud may not be a perfect musical but the dancing, shiny suits and incredible music combine to make it a perfectly fun night out. 

The Kitch Lit Series: Brewery Edition

My interest in the kitch lit genre began in 2015, with J. Ryan Stradal’s Kitchens of the Great Midwest. His story of a chef, a home cook and the people that surround them and come into (and, sometimes, leave) their lives captured my imagination. Anyone who has asked for a book recommendation in the past four years has endured my nearly begging them to read it. Now Stradal is back with The Lager Queen of Minnesota, another foray into the familial bonds of Midwestern families with their trademark civility, work ethic and stubbornness.  

Edith and younger sister Helen have little in common. Edith is straight as an arrow while Helen lives life a little closer to the edge. When Helen’s ambition trumps family circumstance, Helen and Edith find themselves estranged for decades. Each leads a seemingly fulfilled life, though with one giant piece of the puzzle is missing. Edith finds herself widowed and raising her granddaughter at an age when working minimum wage retail jobs should be long behind her. Edith’s granddaughter Diana eventually becomes the center of the story and her resilience in the face of difficult circumstance is simultaneously remarkable and a foregone conclusion. Of course Diana will survive in this world, she knows no other option.

As a non-drinker (I know, that’s a bummer), the words hops and barley are not completely foreign to me but I have very little interest in how the care and handling of those ingredients affects the taste of the brew. While Lager Queen did not have me quite as caught up as Kitchens - perhaps because my interest in the core subject is minimal, but Stradal expertly weaves a storyline across multiple generations. This is not just the story of a brewery. With descriptive prose and compelling characters Stradal wins over even the staunchest of non-drinkers.

Dorrance Dance: Beyond Belief

Foiled again! After seeing the national tour of Mean Girls last week, this post was all but destined to be another review of the show, which I was lucky enough to see on Broadway last fall. But in between seeing the show and writing this post, I attended a Dorrance Dance performance on Tuesday evening.  After that there was no other option: it is impossible not to champion Dorrance Dance. To be clear, I fully support giving Tina Fey money to do whatever she wants to do, so please go see Mean Girls when it stops in a city near you. But, for now, shall we dance?

A stuffy reputation is hard to conquer. Dance is the often seen as the abstract expressionism of the performing arts world because, absent the dialogue of a play or the lyrics of a musical, dance requires that the audience make a lot of interpretations on their own. Interpreting art is often intentionally challenging and forces the audience to look in a mirror and reconcile what they see. But tap dance has always been an easy entry point into Dance. Michelle Dorrance, a MacArthur Genius Grant recipient, and her troupe of dancers are chipping away at that stuffy reputation. It is nearly impossible not to enjoy and be swept up in the percussive fluidity. The dancers move as one but maintain a distinct individuality that allows every audience member to identify with one of the dancers on stage.

Dorrance Dance started the evening with "Jungle Blues." The piece features the entire company dancing to Jelly Roll Morton’s “Jungle Blues” and the choreography instantly transports the audience to a Prohibition era speakeasy somewhere in Louisiana – at least, that’s where I went. The dancers tap, slide and land on their heels and toes and every part of the foot in between. How they don’t all have sprained ankles I’ll never understand. Dorrance talks in a 2017 PBS Newshour interview about how the desire for a certain kind of sound informs the type of movement the body must make to accomplish such. Watching a Dorrance piece will completely illuminate that idea. 

The second piece of the evening, "Three to One," is a bit more dramatic. Initially lit to show only the dancers legs, "Three to One" features just three dancers. In the middle of the piece Michelle Dorrance herself takes over the stage. She, in fact, is the only one actually wearing tap shoes for the piece. As an aside, if ever you were under the impression that you had strong legs, I am here to tell you that you do not.

The final piece Dorrance Dance performed on Tuesday evening was "Myelination." The piece features several distinct styles and tones. The discordant, tortured, writhing segment in the middle of the piece, lit in red, was borderline painful. No, strike that. It was actually painful. But what a fascinating notion, that just music, movement and light can provoke such a specific emotional reaction. Other segments are lit with softer colors and feature far less terrifying movements. All sections of "Myelination" blew the audience away. 

Coincidentally, Mean Girls features a kick-ass tap number, so perhaps it was destiny that just a few days later the very idea of tap dance was stretched beyond imagination. I'll leave you with this video in the hope that you will watch this one and get sucked down the YouTube rabbit hole so all of the Dorrance Dance videos garner more views and they eventually conquer the world making music with their feet. 

Sit Back Saturday: A Recipe

Sit Back Saturday: A Recipe

Ingredients:

30 minutes hula hooping while reading

1 movement

1 bowl Cinnamon Toast Crunch with vanilla almond milk

2 slices English Muffin Toasting bread with butter

1 episode of Gilmore Girls (preferably from seasons 3-5)

60 minutes reading on the couch

Pinch of light errands

2 hour bike ride or 30 minutes on treadmill (weather dependent)

2 slices homemade pizza

2 scoops Culver’s Mint Explosion custard

1 classic movie

25 minutes reading before drifting off to sleep

Directions:

Combine first three ingredients to create the perfect breakfast. After breakfast, and if time allows, enjoy another episode. After the episode, curl up with a good book, and, if necessary, enjoy couch snoozies after reading a few chapters.

Begin the afternoon with a light lunch and a quick jaunt out on the town; remember the coupons. If needed, lunch and jaunt can be completed in either order. Pop over to grab 2 scoops of Mint Explosion. Upon returning home, set scoops aside for later.

Time to pay in sweat. Weather permitting, hop on bicycle and hit the trail. In the case of inclement weather, head to the gym for a jog on the treadmill. 

After exercise, prepare pizza dough and let rise while showering up. Prepare pizza and bake. Fire up the Netflix machine or – gasp – the DVD player to watch an old favorite such as The American President, My Best Friend’s Wedding or Bridesmaids.

Substitutes

For Cinnamon Toast Crunch: Peanut Butter Cap’N Crunch, Lucky Charms, Chocolate Chex

For Gilmore Girls: The Great British Baking Show

The Kitch Lit Series: In Season

Ruth Reichl’s Save Me the Plums is the most recent installment in the series of Reichl’s continuing memoirs. Beginning with Tender at the Bone, Reichl has chronicled her relationship to the culinary world with polished prose and delectable descriptions of some of the most delicious foods the world over. Save Me the Plums spans the years Reichl spent as editor in chief of Gourmet magazine. And while actual time spent in a kitchen may be minimal in Save Me the Plums, any Reichl tome deserves its’ place in the kitch lit series. 

Part of the Conde Nast empire, Gourmet was an established lifestyle publication when Reichl took the helm, but it was also desperately in need of a revamp. At the time she received the offer, Reichl was still comfortably settled at the New York Times, serving as the restaurant critic. Reichl doubts her abilities; after all, she does not have that kind of managerial experience. Advice from trusted friends and the prospect of more meals at home with her family (eating out 14 times every week makes a home cooked family meal quite a challenge) sway her into taking the leap. The adventure begins. The learning curve is daunting and the challenges arrive quickly, but Reichl exhibits her trademark zeal, never hesitating to dive in and learn the ropes. 

One of the most interesting aspects of Save Me the Plums is the inside look at the politics of the magazine industry. The publications under Conde Nast were vast, and the shuffling of people and positions was faster than a blackjack dealer in Vegas. Managing editors, publishers and art directors move or get moved to different publications because of changes in ad sales,  personalities and everything in between. An entirely secure environment it was not.

Save Me the Plums is a tale wherein we know the ending from the beginning. Gourmet falls victim to the steady – and still continuing (Entertainment Weekly, anyone?) – decline of the print industry. Gourmet’s end was the beginning of a new chapter in Ruth Reichl’s life. I will happily devour any and all future Reichl endeavors. 

Play It Again, Sam

In my life thus far – and let’s be clear, I am still quite, quite young – the amount of time I have spent watching TV shows is equal to the amount of time spent watching those same shows over and over again. Thanks to modern technology, bingeing on television shows has become a favorite pastime. But I can remember the old days when catching a television show again meant watching a rerun or waiting until it hit syndication and started airing on TBS or the local Fox affiliate. Then there were the DVD box sets. The money spent on DVD sets for shows now readily available on streaming services would make me multi-hundredaire. Suffice it to say I have watched a lot of the same shows over and over and over again, but there are a select handful of shows that rise to the top of my viewing list with near ridiculous regularity. 

I have watched all episodes of Gilmore Girls too many times to count. Literally. Dozens of times. I’m due for another run, it’s been at least 3 months. The writing is so smart and the characters so engaging that even though I know most of the dialogue by heart and could repeat the plot of an episode with just the title, it is well worth watching again. 

If any show comes close to Gilmore Girls as far as repeated viewings is concerned, it’s Top Chef. It does not matter that I know who wins. No matter how many times I watch it, season one Tiffany will straight up lie to Miguel about her comments at Judges Table, Otto will knowingly drive away with lychees that have not been paid for and Carla Hall will be delightful. 

In the same vein, The Great British Baking Show is literally playing on my TV right now for the fourth or fifth go round. That British sense of civility, the charming music, the delicious bakes? Delightful. While the bakers are technically competing against each other, their behavior would never lead you to believe it’s a competition. Genuinely happy for others who do well and genuinely saddened when bakers must leave the tent, the bakers and The Great British Baking Show is restorative. 

Two other shows are repeatedly binge worthy: The Office and Parks and Rec. The evolution of Michael Scott will never get old. He transformed and matured but his core desire remained the same: to be a part of a family, whatever kind of family that might be. And you can never get enough Leslie Knope. She pours her heart and soul into everything she does, especially her relationships. It’s impossible to choose the best pairing: Leslie and Ann, Leslie and Ron, Leslie and Ben, Leslie and Joe Biden.

Of course, the OG repeat watch was Seinfeld. Watching Seinfeld in syndication was a big part of my formative years. Probably too big. I laughed at the jokes I understood just as hard as those that went right over my head. I knew Jerry, Elaine, George and Kramer as well as a I knew my family members. Not sure what that says about me or my family, but there you have it.

Easy Like Sunday Morning

It isn’t a Sunday morning without CBS News Sunday Morning. Focusing on art and culture, Sunday Morning is the finer things club of the television landscape, and I have been watching my entire life. Reading the headlines may lead to the conclusion that the world is going to hell in a hand basket. The cure? Sunday Morning. Wynton Marsalis’ opening trumpet is a call for humanity, reminding us of what we all have in common.

Sunday Morning feels different than any other television show. Today alone the stories ranged from a profile of Julianne Moore to the technology of hearing aids to the Alvin Ailey dance company to the lure of mermaid lore. Truly something for everyone. And the stories are given room to breathe, lasting more than just a couple of minutes. With its’ eye often turned to the arts, it is probably no wonder that I am attached to the show.  Authors, musicians, dancers, actors, visual artists and architects all get their due on Sunday Morning. The best in their field share their motivation, their process, their struggles and their triumphs.

And then, of course, there is the humor. In my formative years, Bill Geist’s forays into the lesser known, slightly eccentric, hobbies and events around the country were the highlight of the show. I vividly recall a story about individuals who collect toasters. Toasters. Who knew antique toasters were so fascinating? Now it is often a story from Mo Rocca or commentary from Jim Gaffigan or Nancy Giles that strikes the funny bone. Recognizing the importance of humor in everyday life is not to be underestimated. 

Each episode of Sunday Morning ends with a Moment in Nature. No voiceover, no music, just the natural sounds of the environment. It may be mountain goats, fish in a stream, a coral reef or cacti in the desert. The simplicity of the segment and the beauty of the natural world being highlighted combine to provide a brief respite from reality.

Certain pieces of pop culture frame your childhood memories. For me, this includes starting my Sundays with Sunday Morning and finishing them with Wishbone after swim practice. With Entertainment Weekly announcing a transition to a monthly publication I am crossing my fingers that Sunday Morning remains sacred. "Friday Night" just doesn’t have the same ring to it. 

Shine On

Some books beg to be read. The Sun Is Also A Star is one of those books. My intent for this week was to focus on The Steel Wheels. With their new album Over The Trees dropping a couple of weeks ago and my trek to Kansas City to see them at Knuckleheads, my post was in the bag. However, at the same time I was digesting their new music, I also happened to be reading The Sun Is Also A Star.

Calling to me from my bookcase with its’ bright colors and purple-edged pages, Nicola Yoon’s The Sun Is Also A Star begs to be judged by its’ cover. Tricky business indeed, isn’t there a popular idiom based around the opposite of that notion? The book’s jacket design is great, can its’ content live up to that? I breathed a sigh of relief after the first couple of passages because it became immediately clear: this is the kind of book I love to read. And, believe it or not, my love for it has very little to do with the story itself – which is wonderful – but the writing style, the narrative structure and the characters pull you in and refuse to let you go.

The Sun Is Also A Star takes place over the course of one day in present day New York City. Natasha and Daniel meet cute. But Natasha is not a believer in love, fate and definitely not the meet cute. Can aspiring poet Daniel convince Natasha to throw off the bowlines? He only has one day to do it. Natasha and her family face deportation that very evening. That is all I will say here. To reveal more would be to rob you of the pure enjoyment of taking in the story as it unfolds. 

Strunk & White’s Elements of Style informs my writing and my reading. Their sixth principle, omit needless words, in particular. Yoon is a disciple, perhaps unwittingly, of Strunk & White. Yoon’s writing is precise. Her sentence structure is exquisite. Every word has a purpose and, therefore, every sentence develops and enhances the characters and the story. Yoon can accomplish in a few sentences what other authors need a paragraph to do. One of the expositional chapters ends with this passage, “Later this afternoon my life will hop on a train headed for Doctor Daniel Jae ho Bae station, but until then the day is mine. I’m going to do whatever the world tells me to. I’m going to act like I’m in a goddamn Bob Dylan song and blow in the direction of the wind. I’m going to pretend my future’s wide open, and that anything can happen.” That passage illustrates the essence of Daniel. We will get to know him even better throughout the rest of the book but those few sentences perfectly describe Daniel’s recognition of the outside forces attempting to restrain his natural romanticism.

Along with the strength of her composition Yoon shows skill with a very interesting and effective narrative structure. The book primarily alternates between Natasha and Daniel’s perspectives. We learn about them through their reaction and adaptation to the world around them. But sprinkled amongst Natasha and Daniel’s narratives are third person narratives focusing on a variety of subjects: the security guard and the USCIS, Natasha’s father, eyes and fate to name a few. In hands less adept than Yoon’s, these shifting perspectives could become jarring, chopping the book up and endangering the flow. That does not happen here. No matter the narrative perspective, each chapter completely belongs. Natasha and Daniel’s narratives remain separate until the conclusion of the story when Yoon brings them together in a shared narrative. You will have to find out on your own the reason for their coming together.

The Sun Is Also A Star features a cast of fantastic characters. At the heart of the book’s universe are Natasha and Daniel, who are different and yet similar at the same time. Both are wise beyond their years, but not in a cloying, overly precocious, 'mini-adult' way. Life, fate and chance forced them to grow up quickly. Your heart breaks for them and moments of childhood missed. On the surface, I share little in common with Natasha and Daniel (age, race, socio-economic status, geography) but Yoon fleshes out both characters simply as members of the human race, navigating the difficulties inherent in that membership in the best way they can, and they are utterly relatable because of it. I see elements of myself in both of them. 

So, intentions be damned. I sensed almost immediately that The Sun Is Also A Star needed to be shared. That said, please do not take this as permission to skip Over The Trees, it’s a fantastic album from a group that continues to grow while remaining true to their roots. While Natasha’s playlist may veer towards rock, there is no reason your soundtrack to The Sun Is Also A Star can’t be Blue Ridge Mountain folk.

Lyle Lovett and His Large Band, Definitively In Charge

Attending a Lyle Lovett and His Large Band concert is akin to living out the cliché "variety is the spice of life." Before the concert at Hoyt Sherman Place last week, my exposure to Lyle Lovett’s music was limited to “If I Had a Boat,” which I discovered through the gone-too-soon series Parenthood. For me, the variety was entirely unexpected: a country hoedown, a smoky jazz club, a Texas church service. Luckily, I was ready for anything and everything. And everything is exactly what I got.

The variety in Lovett’s music mirrors his varied career. Active in the music industry since the 1980’s, first as a songwriter then performing both solo and with the band, Lovett also dabbles in acting. I remember his brief marriage to Julia Roberts in the 90’s since, as a ten year-old Iowan, I always had my finger on the pulse of Hollywood. 

The concert kicked off with a rousing number from the band and then Lovett hit the stage and dove into "Pants is Overrated." I instantly agreed with the notion of the song in the most literal sense. Why wear pants when you could just leave those bottoms off? That was it for me. I was sold. The rollicking continued with "San Antonio Girl," the lyrics of which paint a picture of new love, a young man head over heels. "San Antonio Girl" is a prime example of one of Lovett’s greatest strengths: telling stories through song. Each song a novella, each verse a chapter.   

While I was right at home during the hoedown, I was a bit more leery to take a side trip to the jazz club. Riffs abound and all the members of the band get a chance to shine. There is no denying their musicianship, so while jazz is not my genre of choice I cannot help but appreciate the talent. Longtime Lovett performer Francine Reed can scat with the best of them. 

Lovett continued the set with what I now know to be his biggest hits, “If I Had a Boat” among them. I love the lyric at the end of the song, ‘kiss my ass I bought a boat/I’m going out to sea.’ What a great illustration of growing up and finding your place. “Here I Am,” “North Dakota” and his cover of “I’ll Fly Away” were also highlights. The rambling “Here I Am” is an interesting deconstruction of song, breaking the music with spoken word, and with a comedic lilt at that.

Eventually, the evening morphed into a life affirming church service. The hauntingly beautiful “Ain’t No More Cane” closed out the evening, the harmonies filling the hall and our souls. Of course, the audience would not let that be the end and Lovett and the band complied by coming back out for “Church.” 

Lovett’s stage presence is authentic. His rambling seems to acknowledge that he knows he must address the audience but that, in reality, he would be more comfortable simply performing. The audience on this evening – possibly typical for a Lovett and Large Band show – was much different than I anticipated. Hollering at Lovett on the stage, constantly leaving  - either to get more booze or, more likely given their age, to go to the bathroom. Not ideal, I favor an attentive audience who is there for the music rather than the chance to drink (or pee) somewhere other than their own home. 

Audience behavior aside, I am now a Lovett devotee. It's true that I am a sucker for a live concert experience, but they aren't all good. Not all concerts convince you to listen to the music after the show, go on a YouTube spiral, talk to others about the show, imploring them to listen to your favorites so you can talk about them together. Lyle Lovett and His Large Band sold me in the first two songs. 

So Wrong It's Right

The show must go on, even when the whole universe is against it. The actors in the play within The Play That Goes Wrong know no other way. The Olivier Award-winning play breathes fresh air into the notion of the Broadway play. There is a place for high drama, but if the key to a happy life is balance then thank goodness for Henry Lewis, Jonathan Sayer and Henry Shields who have given us this comic gem. Few and far between are the shows that have the audience laughing from curtain up to curtain down. The plot is ridiculous, the set literally falls apart and the actors get just as many lines wrong as they do right, but that is all part of the plan. A flawlessly executed and acted plan. And how refreshing it is.

The Play That Goes Wrong is the story of a troupe of actors putting on the play "The Murder at Haversham Manor." The struggling troupe is thrilled to finally have discovered a show for which the number of characters matches the number of performers and their expectations are higher because of it – much higher than for their production of “Cat.” Unfortunately, there are a few things standing in their way and their skills may not match their ambition. 

Hilarity breaks out before the show within the show even begins. Before the show, stage manager Annie calls upon an unsuspecting audience member to physically hold up the mantel that will not adhere to the set wall. And it continues from there. One of the most enjoyable running jokes is that the actor playing the dead Charles Haversham cannot play dead. When, after the other actors step on his “dead” hand lying on the ground, he tries to sneakily move it under the chaise to avoid any further pain, the uproar from the audience was one of the most genuine moments of enjoyment I’ve heard in a theater in many years. The hijinks continue. A personal favorite: a sword breaks (of course) but the actor continues as if it is intact, shouting, “ching, ching” and “swish, swipe” in place of the actual sound of swords clinking together. Throughout the entire evening, the laughter rarely diminished. 

The cast is small but mighty. Anything less than complete commitment to the insanity would come across as disingenuous, but the tour cast is all in. Bear with me as I navigate the tricky waters of writing about actors who are portraying actors. Ned Noyes plays Max Bennett who portrays Cecil/gardener. Noyes hams it up as Max/Cecil, but in the best possible way. He grins, he bows during scenes and he eats up every reaction from the audience and uses it as fuel for his antics. Max is in love with himself on stage and Noyes plays it to perfection. Dennis (Scott Cote) plays the role of Perkins the Haversham Manor butler. Dennis does not have the best handle on pronunciation, or, really, his lines in general. His mispronunciation of ‘cyanide’ (ky-a-need-e) is so incorrect that, on the night of my performance, the audience reaction was delayed until another character corrected him. Once understood, the audience burst into laughter.  

Perhaps the most extraordinary element of “wrongness” in the show is the set.  Nigel Hook, the set original set designer, had quite a task to complete: design a set that will convincingly and precisely fall apart. The pre-show mantel shenanigans were only the beginning. Throughout the show, the set continues to fall apart, leading up to the moment at the end of the show when the walls fall down and the elevated platform that serves as a study loses its’ support beam and crashes to the stage floor. The gradual destruction is incredibly impressive. The planning and engineering required to create a set that falls apart and can be restored to its’ original form immediately after curtain call is hidden by the collapsing, crashing, falling and banging, but appreciation should be heaped upon the creative team and the backstage crew.

I could continue to gush for as long as Cecil could prance and bounce around the stage. That is to say, endlessly. Suffice it to say that The Play That Goes Wrong gets pretty much everything right. I know, I know, too easy. But Cecil would love that line. 

The Kitch Lit Series: From Wizards to Ducks

After a Hogwarts-length break from the Kitch Lit genre, I was more than ready to get back in the kitchen. Harry Potter and his hijinks are to be applauded. JK Rowling tapped into something that is in many ways a classic tale, felt like something we had never read before. But there is no witchcraft in the kitchen, just good, old fashioned hard work. So while I readily jumped back into the kitchen, I wasn’t ready for was the emotional roller coaster that is Lillian Li’s Number One Chinese Restaurant. Li's novel centers around the Han family’s Beijing Duck House restaurant. In this tale, the restaurant is the sun around which the Duck House owners, employees and investors find themselves orbiting, some willingly, others, not as much. And that orbit is maintained by a gravitational pull so strong that it is nearly impossible to break the bond.

And this is where it gets tricky. To reveal too much about the plot is to take away the enjoyment of letting the story unfold before you. Life in and around a restaurant is all consuming. While life is different for front of house employees such as Nan and Ah-Jack, whose years at the Duck House have given them an uncommon bond, and manager Jimmy, who dreams of walking out from under the shadow of his father, they share one commonality: the consuming nature of the industry affects them whether they realize it or not.

Li shifts perspective seamlessly, writing in one chapter in the voice of a teenager and in another as the matriarch of the Han family who, since her husband’s death, is a shell of her former self. What we learn about each character expands in surprising ways when we step into their psyche. 

Number One Chinese Restaurant surprised me in all the best ways. Li’s prose is unbelievably smart and the story is as consuming as the restaurant industry itself. Who is really in charge of the Duck House? What motivates each character? Why do they act as they do? All will be revealed by the end, but Li leaves us wondering if there are even more sides to the story and, if it were to continue, what would happen with the characters we've come to know. A desire to read more is indicative of a well-crafted story. Li has accomplished just that. 

Safety in Sandwich

Stupid Judy.

It’s not often that I find occasion to quote Bruce Willis. Let alone Bruce in his non-action turn as the emotionally stunted image consultant who comes face to face with his childhood self in Disney’s The Kid. That was a lie. It is much more likely that I would quote non-action Bruce before action Bruce. Don’t tell Jake Peralta but I have never seen Die Hard. That said, I’ve ingested so much pop culture that movie, TV and even theme park quotes tumble from my mouth with regularity. My favorites:

“Stupid Judy” – Used to denote a person, place or thing that causes annoyance, from the pre-attraction film at EPCOT’s now defunct Universe of Energy attraction. Ellen DeGeneres, as a version of herself, is disgusted with her college roommate, Judy, played by Jamie Lee Curtis because Judy is wiping the floor with her on dream Jeopardy. Trust me, it all makes sense in context. Context that is now unattainable given the closure of the attraction. I’m sure there is something out there on the YouTube machine.

“Festivus Miracle” – To be exclaimed when joyfulness fills the air! It is rather remarkable the number of Seinfeld phrases that made their way into the pop culture lexicon. It is unlikely that any one show will ever again capture the zeitgeist so perfectly. Seinfeld is referenced in my daily life but Festivus Miracle gets used most often. Hit all the North/South lights green on the way through downtown? Festivus Miracle.

“Have a good trip, bring me back something French” – Can mean everything from goodbye, see you later or talk to you later to, actually, have a good time in France. What’s not to love about Home Alone? A classic good v. evil story: child takes on Wetbandits. Give it a whirl.

“Well, but she can’t work” – Usually meant to denote a situation in which I/you/we are not interested. Must be spoken with the pale, English sensibility of Matt Lucas. Bridesmaids stands out as one of the few movie experiences in which I truly laughed out loud, repeatedly, uncontrollably. An honorable mention to all of the lines from the airplane scene - because it’s civil rights.

"You’re covered in nuts" – Fits any and all situations. In The Heat, Paul Feig paired Melissa McCarthy and Sandra Bullock to immense comedic success. Some of the scenes go on a little long or are completely unnecessary (did Sandra really need to perform a tracheotomy in a diner? Probably not), but there are plethora of amazing lines in this one. Just watch:

Where Will You Stand

The plan for this week’s post was derailed. My intent was to write about the musical adaptation of the movie School of Rock, but then I went to see The Steel Wheels in concert at CSPS Hall. And it became crystal clear. Why write about a mediocre musical when I could implore all seven people that read this to listen to The Steel Wheels? 

Before last week, my most recent Steel Wheels experience was at the Walnut Valley Festival last September. I was devastated to learn I was out of town later in the fall when they stopped in Ames. Of late, some of my family members are struggling to find good health inside bodies that have walked the earth for ninety-five years. Though my health remains intact, watching aging before your eyes is draining in more ways than one. A Steel Wheels concert is exactly what my soul needed. Not all musicians or bands are as good live as they are recorded. Fewer still are better. The Steel Wheels are in this select group. Their live performances pulsate with an energy that cannot be captured on a recording. One cannot help but be swept up.

The Steel Wheels give the impression that they never have an off night. This night was no exception. Trent Wagler, Jay Lapp, Brian Dickel and Kevin Garcia are uncommonly talented musicians and singers. In fact, even if they fumbled, the audience would never know and they would still be playing better than most musicians. Filling in for Eric Brubaker is Oliver Craven. Craven fits in perfectly; to the uninitiated he would never seem a substitute. One of the most touching moments of the evening came when the group dedicated “The Race” to absent member Eric Brubaker, who is taking time off to mourn the loss of his daughter. The sense of hopefulness and healing in the room was palpable.

The evening was a pretty typical Steel Wheels set: a mix of positivity and lamentation. Fast, driving songs alternate with slower more deliberate melodies. The Steel Wheels played a few songs from their upcoming summer release. “Under” drew me in. I can’t wait to listen to it again. The new songs they performed are distinctly Steel Wheels, but with a looser, relaxed quality that belies how hard they are working.

My favorite moment of the evening was the performance of “With It All Stripped Away.” Performed early in the set, this was the moment when The Steel Wheels grabbed hold of the audience and did not let go. Sung a cappella, the song is a call for reflection and action:

With no status, no power, no women, no men
With it all stripped away, where will you stand

With no profit, no weapons, no money in your hand
With it all stripped away, where will you stand

Stand up, in the early morning
(stand up) Stand up when there is no warning
(stand up) Stand up when the storm is rising, all around

With no color, no creed, no bible to defend
With it all stripped away, where will you stand

When this world (this whole world) turns violent, when there's no side left to win
With it all stripped away, where will you stand

Stand up when the wind is blowing
(stand up) Stand up when the tears are flowing
(stand up) Stand up when justice calls and you hear the sound

So when your quiet, alone, and this day has met its end
With it all stripped away, where will you stand
With it all stripped away, where will you stand

My opinion is abundantly clear. The more Steel Wheels in my life the better. Make your life better, too. Click Play. Oh, and School of Rock? You can skip it.

With A Smile On Your Face

Few artists have had as tremendous an impact on American music as Carole King. Since the jukebox bio musical was welcomed on Broadway more than a decade ago, it was only a matter of time before enterprising producers ventured to bring her life and music to the stage. Upon seeing Beautiful on tour a couple of years ago, I immediately decided that I needed to see it again. It was different than I had expected and I needed to see it again through different eyes. And so it was that I found myself on a Sunday evening in New York City, in search of a show. After stage dooring the final performance of Kinky Boots for well over an hour, I practically sprinted from the Hirschfeld to the Sondheim to get to my seat before curtain. Beautiful is well-written and expertly designed and it pays, pun intended, beautiful tribute to Carole King and her contribution to American music.

Beautiful spans the early years in King’s career – which began with a hit song at 17 years old – and concludes with the release of her monumentally successful album Tapestry. Married as a teenager to chemist and aspiring lyricist Gerry Goffin, King and Goffin pumped out hit songs as frequently as the rest of us pour a bowl of cereal (by which I mean a lot, I eat a ton of cereal). Goffin, brooding and discontent, bristled at the prospect of settling into family life, while King dreamed of a sort of suburban utopia. The love they shared was not enough to sustain their marriage. During the early phases of Beautiful’s development, King admitted to having little interest in seeing a musical adaptation of her life and, watching her story unfold on stage, it is not hard to imagine that were we in her shoes we would feel similarly hesitant. A perfect hand King was not dealt. But from what I have gleaned about the actual King from watching many concerts and PBS specials (and speaking to her oh so briefly at a Get Out the Vote rally many moons ago) she has an enviable resilience, her dry humor a defense mechanism that, rather than close her off from experience and emotion, sustains her positivity. Book writer Douglas McGrath captures King’s innate sense of joy. Indeed, it's not hard to imagine King uttering some of his quick-witted dialogue. 

If McGrath gives words to Carole King the character, it is up to the star to bring her to life. As Carole King, Chilina Kennedy, who has played the role extensively, has an assuredness that is in a class of its own. She imbues King with an inner strength that lies close to the surface, springing forward in the face of adversity. Importantly, Kennedy does a nice job of incorporating some of King's speech and singing patterns without simply seeming to mimic her. Evan Todd as Gerry Goffin, and Kara Lindsay and Ben Jacoby as fellow songwriters, friends and competitors Cynthia Weil and Barry Mann round out the leading cast. The talented ensemble of singers and dancers keep the show moving, playing multiple roles and inhabiting such famous singers as Neil Sedaka, The Drifters and The Shirelles.

The costumes, choreography and design of the show are superbly polished.  Synchronized doo-wop dancing is irresistible and Beautiful has smooth moves to spare. Crisp, shiny suits catch the spotlight with every bend of the knee and flick of the wrist. The set is understated but not boring. Take, for example, the multi-level 1650 Broadway set, a Brill Building type complex in the songwriting "block" of Manhattan. With its’ spare feel and visible steel, the set reinforces the sort of industrialized production of hits that came to be known as the Brill Building sound.

The high quality of the music featured in Beautiful is, of course, a forgone conclusion. King truly wrote the music of a generation. The music credits in the Playbill read like a comprehensive history of the American song. Beautiful showcases upbeat hits such as “The Locomotion” and “He’s Sure the Boy I Love” and nimbly transitions to heavier emotion with “Will You Love Me Tomorrow” and “One Fine Day.” The latter of which can be a fun, bouncy hit outside of the context of the scene. But here, when Gerry admits to having a relationship with singer Janelle Woods (who is on stage singing the song for a TV broadcast) and Carole takes over the song from Janelle, the song takes on a bittersweet note. The tone is perfect in that moment, the close of Act I. Note that as a Positive Patty I subscribe to the out of context version of the song when my alarm goes off at 7:00 in the morning.

I find myself at a loss for words to sum up the show. Maybe it's because Beautiful is just that. Beautiful. The conclusion of the show is perfect, ending with King's 1971 concert at Carnegie Hall and King, alone at the piano, belting the titular song. With humor, heart and a brilliant set of tunes, Beautiful will remind you of your youth or, if you're like me, make you wish you were growing up at a time when spunky girl from New York City was changing the music industry and paving the way for a generation of singers and songwriters.

A Tale of Two Dresses

Musical adaptations of hit films are downright ubiquitous on Broadway. What Hairspray kicked off nearly two decades ago (mother of pearl, typing that sentence makes me feel old) has continued with varied degrees of success. As with many things in life, quality and success do not necessarily go hand in hand. The Lion King continues it’s multi-decade run just a few streets over from Aladdin. For every Kinky Boots there is a Ghost: The Musical. I will leave it up to you to determine into which bucket each of these shows fall. A visit to New York City last week gave me the opportunity to see two members of the newer crop of movie adaptations: Pretty Woman: The Musical and Tootsie. Pretty Woman feels worn and sluggish while Tootsie brims with a fresh energy. Indeed, the only thing these two shows share is the fact that, at some point in the show, the main character is outfitted in a bright red dress.

The movie Pretty Woman was huge when it was released in 1990, and is probably best known for solidifying Julia Roberts as one of the biggest and most bankable Hollywood stars. With music by Bryan Adams and Jim Vallance and a book by Gary Marshall and J.F. Lawton, also the film’s screenwriters, the musical is a retread. The story, setting and time period are nearly cookie cutter copies of the movie and it suffers because of that. The chance to simply add music is not enough to warrant a transfer to the stage. Adapting a movie for the stage brings with it the opportunity to make changes and tailor the story for a new medium and, often, a new decade, but Pretty Woman does not take full advantage of that opportunity.

Samantha Barks and Andy Karl, in the undoubtedly difficult position of filling the shoes of Roberts and Richard Gere, do everything they can with the material. Barks and Karl are undeniably talented, as is the hard-working ensemble and supporting cast. But the story and music does not resonate. Watchable? Sure. Completely needed? Probably not.

By contrast, across town, the adaption of the 1982 Sydney Pollack film Tootsie hits all the right notes. Now set in the present day, and with the show-within-a-show flipped from a soap opera to a Broadway musical (meta opportunities abound), Tootsie makes the argument for its’ creation that Pretty Woman does not. The creative team of Robert Horn, David Yazbek, Denis Jones and Scott Ellis have crafted the quintessential musical comedy: song and dance, conflict and resolution, sarcasm and sentiment.

A man masquerading as a woman in order to get a job is tricky water to navigate in the #MeToo era and, while some of the topical references are a bit heavy-handed, the show successfully navigates relationships in many different forms: male friendship, female friendship, female/male friendship, romantic relationships and, perhaps most importantly, the relationship with oneself. The cast, led by future Tony Award winner Santino Fontana is exceptional. No really, I’m no expert, but Fontana’s hilarious and heartfelt performance as Michael Dorsey/Dorothy Michaels is brilliant. Dustin who? He commands your attention and earns your respect. The supporting cast features strong turns from Lilli Cooper as Julie, Andy Grotelueschen as Jeff and Sarah Stiles as Sandy. Stiles, as Michael’s codependent ex-girlfriend with a few hilarious peculiarities about her, is the definition of a scene stealer. I challenge you not to laugh when Sandy laments her attempt at doing the Dirty Dancing lift with her cat.

Still in previews, Tootsie cannot yet be judged as a final product, but, if the preview performance I saw is any indication, Tootsie has legs – and not just Santino Fontana’s gams in that iconic red dress. Tootsie has the energy and the compassion to strut down 46^th Street and into our hearts. So, I beg you Broadway audiences, please reward Tootsie’s quality with financial success so that it plays long enough for me to get back to see the finished product. Please.

The Kitch Lit Series: Visual Edition, Round 2

A discerning diner I am not. I admit it. I love pizza and macaroni and I eat PB&J for lunch every day. I have only recently become acquainted with fine dining thanks to 801 Chophouse. While I ate my first meal at 801 a light bulb literally went off in my head, so that is what properly prepared meat tastes and chews like? Generally speaking, my taste in culinary entertainment is similar to my taste in food itself. Plain and simple is good enough for me. Spring Baking Championship? I’ll take it. America’s Test Kitchen? I’d love to pretend that I’ll whip up that recipe. Top Chef? Yes, please. And then I was introduced to Netflix’s Chef’s Table, the 801 Chophouse to my homemade pizza pie. Exquisitely simple, Chef’s Table will open your eyes to new ways to think about what we eat, how we eat and the chefs who imagine the possibilities.

Chef’s Table profiles one chef in each episode, all at the cutting edge of their field and at the top of their game. Most of these Chefs operate restaurants that are among the best in the world, some awarded multiple Michelin stars. The appeal of Chef’s Table lies in its’ minimalism. The show employs a beautifully simple documentary style: the chef telling their origin story and a couple of critics or fellow chefs explaining their influence on the culinary field intercut with passages of their work in a kitchen creating dishes. 

With breathtaking cinematography, not just of the food but of the locales as well, Chef’s Table forces you to consider food as more than sustenance and dining as more than simply the exercise of eating. Whether it be in Peru, Slovenia, New Zealand or right down the road in Chicago, you will be astounded by what chefs are doing with food. Virgilio Martinez uses natural ingredients from Peru to create dishes based on the region and altitude from which the ingredients originated. Ana Ros uses similarly natural ingredients from her native Slovenia. Ivan Orkin perfects the deceptively complex and layered Japanese ramen dish. And then there are the edible balloons from the mind of Grant Achatz. Edible balloons, people. I know, it’s hard to comprehend. Google it.

The road to becoming a chef was different for all of these men and women. Some knew from a young age that pursuing a career in culinary arts was their only desired course. Others are self-taught. For some, cooking was a means to an end, a way to travel or secure a green card. As varied as their backgrounds are, the singular similarity between these chefs is absolutely striking: they have found their calling. Rarely in life do we identify a singular passion. Even more rarely do we get the chance to live it every day. These chefs did and do, and it radiates from their being. And more than just enjoying cooking, the chefs love and appreciate the effect of cooking and eating together and the emotional connections it has the power to create.

Their other commonality: an innate willingness. Whether it is trying new ingredients, techniques or plating, or perfecting the perfect dough (even if it takes hundreds of loaves), these chefs are relentless in their willingness to do. Obsession and perfection are common themes. 

All of the enthusiasm poured out thus far has been without mention of the chefs' fascinating, often incredibly humbling, personal stories. And though my Midwestern sensibilities lead me to believe that I would likely be ready for some dinner after enjoying a meal at one of these incredible restaurants - I seem to have the metabolism of Pizza Rat - not to mention the fact that some of the dishes are so stunning that it seems a shame to ruin the composition by eating it, the prospect of dining at one of these restaurants is what dreams are made of.

The Kitch Lit Series: Visual Edition

Kitchens of the Great Midwest may have sparked my interest in kitch lit but Danny Meyer’s Setting the Table fanned the flame into a bonfire. After I read Meyer’s book on hospitality in the restaurant industry, books in the kitch lit genre were exclusively on my nightstand for many months thereafter.

Now many moons later, flipping through Netflix and, what a surprise, being fed a lot of Netflix’s original series (let’s be real, Netflix is the real puppet master in this world) I came upon the series 7 Days Out. This documentary series highlights the preparation and logistics of some of the biggest events in the world. The first episode, bizarrely intriguing, follows the lead up to the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show. A unique brand of folks to say the least, but hey, whatever floats your boat -er, fluffs the coat on your show dog. The second episode of 7 Days Out seems to have been written for me, for episode two features the last minute flurry of activities surrounding the reopening of one of the country's greatest restaurants, Eleven Madison Park. 

In 1998, Eleven Madison Park was opened by Meyer’s Union Square Hospitality Group, and in 2011, Will Guidara and Chef Daniel Humm purchased the restaurant from Meyer. In 2017, Guidara and Humm closed Eleven Madison Park  from June to October. for extensive renovations and a menu overhaul. The episode focuses on the seven days before their reopening. 7 Days Out confirms what so many successful – and unsuccessful – restaurateurs have learned: the restaurant industry is not for the faint of heart. Opening or reopening a restaurant is an incredible feat. Physical aspects of the kitchen and dining room must combine flawlessly with staffing, process and, oh, the small matter of actually executing the actual dishes.

To say I find it all fascinating is an understatement. Successful stress management is on abundant display at Eleven Madison Park. Less than a week to opening, the tables and chairs have yet to be delivered. There is the small matter of the Ansel inspection, which must be passed in order to get gas certification in New York City. Yep, the gas to power the stoves in the kitchen, so chefs can cook the foodstuffs. Who needs heat for cooking? Minor details. After several delays and one failed inspection, the gas was turned on at Eleven Madison Park on the day of the friends and family opening.

The result of many, many rounds of testing.

The restaurant industry, almost as much as the theater industry itself, is about putting on a show. In fact, the similarities between the restaurant world and the theater world are plentiful. For instance, the industries share a common language. Terms such as ‘front of house’ and ‘back of house’ are second nature to both. And in both industries the success of the night requires that both the front and back of house run like a well-oiled machine. Guidara describes their similarities perfectly: two days out from opening was tech, dress rehearsal came one day out with the friends and family dinner followed, finally, by a much anticipated opening night. And, as in the theater, tweaks are happening up to the very last minute when the show is frozen. The priceless moment in which Chef Humm finalizes plating for a dish with caviar on top - he determines it should be the way they had done it before - his executive chef responds, with a hint of helplessness in his voice, “we did 25 different versions” could just as easily be a director deciding at the last minute to light a scene from a different angle. Attention to detail in restaurants, as in theater, is quite often what separates the good from the great. Indeed, the front of house staff steams the booths on opening day because the fabric – being brand new - is stiffer than anticipated. That's the cream rising to the top.

I wish I could say that my trip to New York in a couple of weeks would include a meal at Eleven Madison Park, but with the dining room tasting menu currently running $335 a pop, I will probably never cross the threshold at Eleven Madison Park. Taking a photo out front and peering inside will have to suffice. Chef Humm, wave if you see me outside!

Sorry Not Sorry

After binging all ten seasons of the time travel comedy Friends  - beepers, answering machines and the invention of email, oh my! - I was left with a six person-sized void to fill after Rachel got off the plane last week. Without doing a lot of research, I pivoted in tone from the tame innuendo of Friends to the unapologetically raunchy comedy I’m Sorry. While some of the storylines come across as vulgarity for vulgarity’s sake, the characters are likable and the dialogue is quick and sharp.

I’m Sorry is a comedy from Andrea Savage, who created and stars as a version of herself: comedy writer, wife and mom. Most of us will never know how close Andrea Savage is to her alter ego Andrea Warren but, personally, I don’t need to. I’ll take the dramatized version who sticks her foot in her mouth, curses like a sailor and pronounces the day her five year-old daughter uses sarcasm for the first time as the best day of her life. 

Andrea, husband Mike (Tom Everett Scott) and daughter Amelia (Olive Petrucci) are the sun in the I’m Sorry universe. Andrea and Mike raise Amelia in the only way they know how: trial and error. They overcorrect when she expresses interest in The Little Mermaid and Amelia reacts later by scorning a stay at home mother. And after Andrea shows her The Sound of Music, Amelia is worried Hitler is hiding in her closet. Andrea’s solution? Give Amelia a stone leftover from the goddess party she hosted. After all, like the sorcerer’s stone in Harry Potter, it will protect her from all the scary things in the world. When Mike correctly points out that the sorcerer’s stone was used to help bring Voldemort back to life, not to protect Harry, Andrea quips, “F**k you, JK Rowling. Go back to the café. Write a couple new notes. I’m just kidding, I do love that goddamn book.”

Despite the fact that Andrea’s nuclear family is central to the show, I’m Sorry is far from a family sitcom. Andrea and her writing partner Kyle (Jason Mantzoukas) trade barbs with the best of them. They have known each other for years and are most often vehemently defend their opinions to each other like two siblings who refuse to admit defeat. Kathy Baker and Martin Mull pop up as Andrea’s divorced parents Sharon and Martin. And though I still have trouble accepting Baker as anything other than the hook hand from Boston Public, she is hilarious as a parent and confidant to Andrea. Sharon is up for anything so long as she arrives home in time to feed her husband, Leon. Leon’s impending demise and Martin waiting in the wings for Sharon provides one of the funniest long running throwaway storylines. Because Leon is perfectly healthy.

Andrea gets herself into a borderline high number of unbelievable and very awkward situations, but her hilarious attempts to extract herself from said situations more than make up for the stretch in reality. She's doing her best to overcome the immaturity that, let's face it, is often more fun than that adulting business.  There's a little bit of Andrea in all of us. How can you not relate to a person who's first act after her family leaves the house for the weekend is to gleefully drop her pants...to do some household chores the way God intended: comfortably.