Beer, Bourbon and BBQ Festival Drops by The City

Better organized than the Bacon Takedown and more relaxed than the Vendy’s, the Beer, Bourbon and BBQ Festival presented by the Trigger Agency was a definitive success.

Taking advantage of the VIP ticket’s perks, I was treated to a complimentary drinking glass and all the bacon, beer and bourbon I could stomach. The layout was puzzle-like but it kept you entertained since you were never quite sure what would be around the corner, no matter how many times you went around that very same corner. Did I mention the bourbon was totally free and ever-flowing?

I say it with pride when Brooklyn’s own The Meat Hook stole the show with their bacon suasage. A very close runner up goes to the Maryland team who’s bacon stood above the rest. They also seemed to genuinely want to feed everyone. When a 20-something-year-old manning the table realized he was almost out of food, he meant it when he said we “were soooo lucky to be able to try some.” And he was right.

The vendor’s ran the full gamut from giving free passes to Larry Flint’s Hustler club to selling portable Beer Pong tables. Maker’s Mark for sure had everyone’s attention with its dipping station. You could take the free glasses given at entry and have them hand-dipped in Maker’s Mark particular shade of red wax. This was the most arresting and successful promotion at the entire show.

I really cannot wait for this to come around again. The ability to do nothing but drink and eat bacon without feeling guilty is well worth the $85 admission.

»Between BlakRoc and a Hard Place

Unlike peanut butter and chocolate, rap and rock, do not go together. But what about Rage Against the Machine, you say? Didn’t LL Cool J “rock the bells”?  Didn’t Public Enemy and Anthrax “bring the noise”? Aren’t 311’s first three albums OK? Yes, fine, but those are exceptions.

Generally, rap and rock means baggy pants, backward hats, misogyny, poor grammar and even poorer spelling. It means Limp Bizkit, Korn, Insane Clown Posse and other abominations creating sounds that people with IQs between 10 and 15 find appealing. It means concerts filled with barely upright-walking, mouth-breathing, dirty hominids slamming into each other when they’re not gang-raping some fat white girl behind the porta-potties. Seriously, as much as I like Rage, I would forego having listened to them if it would have meant Korn never coming into existence.

Let’s face it, rap-rock is largely created for white people who wish they were black, but instead have no rhythm, can’t read, don’t understand multisyllabic words and would rather slam into each other in outdoor mud pits then get their groove on. Think about it this way: What’s cooler, Ice-T the pimp with the shark tank in his house and the Ferrari outside or Ice-T the sweaty guy wearing a wool hat and fronting Body Count?

Which brings us to BlakRoc, a pairing of the indie blues and rock masters, the Black Keys, with rap’s finest - Mos Def, Pharoahe Monch, etc. For those who don’t know, the Keys sound like Howling Wolf fronting the Stooges after drinking a gallon of moonshine. In other words, they destroy everything. The inclusion of them on this record alone makes it better than 98% of all rap-rock creations.

Seriously, if you’ve never listened to the Black Keys, go do it now. They are one of the last remaining five bands on this planet who will make you want to dance, cry and drink at the same time. Not only do they rock, they’ve got soul and rhythm. Soul and rhythm being two key concepts to all successful music endeavors and two concepts unknown to all the groups composed solely of fecal matter mentioned above. As for the rappers on this, Damon Dash cleverly assembled a group comfortable getting grimy. Not that Raekwon would be caught dead laying rhymes while sipping moonshine in a club with sawdust on the floor, but he doesn’t need pro-tools to shine either. As for the others, Mos Def, Q-Tip and MOP have all featured live music in some form or another and are not alien to rhyming with a real rhythm section.

As for the music, on BlakRoc’s self-titled debut, the Black Keys lay the tracks down for the rappers. Unlike most rap-rock efforts, the Keys keep things restrained, laying down funky beats that are better-suited for the lounge than the mosh pit. Drummer Patrick Carney consistently kills it; you can feel the snap of the stick hitting the skin on almost every track. Carney’s beats have more bounce than most DJs get from their 808s.  Guitarist Dan Auerbach eschews the straight-up blues riffs that can be found on most Keys’ albums for more psychedelic grounds. Auerbach’s guitar work on this album is more akin to his solo work; it never reaches the frenzied squall of his earlier efforts but if you loved the last Danger Mouse-produced Black Keys album, “Attack and Release,” you’ll dig this.

As for the rappers, they all deliver clever rhymes that fit the palette painted for them by the Keys. Unfortunately, even a posthumous Ol’ Dirty Bastard seems restrained. It’s as if presented with a quality backing band, the rappers are holding back so as to not overshadow the music. I understand that Mos Def and Q-Tip are mellow by choice, but that doesn’t explain why no one else wants to cut loose. Everyone seems intent on trying to complement the music instead of trying to rise above it. The best verse is delivered by - not unsurprisingly - Raekwon, with GZA and MOP coming in a close second. No one is terrible but no one is great. And that, in itself, is disappointing.  

Overall, BlakRoc is solid and workmanlike, but not great. As Duke Ellington sang, “It don’t mean a thing, if it ain’t got that swing.” And despite the stellar talent assembled by Damon Dash, BlakRoc is head-nodding music when it should be bottom-shaking music. It sounds like everyone was afraid to step on each other’s toes when, considering the characters involved, they should’ve been stomping on them.

Admiral Filthy McNasty, Special Guest Author

Bar Celona

Walking to my car a few weeks ago, I noticed the smoked glass exterior of Bar Celona; the only signage on the cloaked entrance a golden “BC” logo. Intrigued but totally unsure of what was inside (a whiskey bar?), the locale was put in the memory bank as a place to check out.

The facade intrigues by being both stunning and intimidating. The sharp contrast of the bright logo on the dark entrance along with the inability to see inside leaves the passerby feeling like they are not nearly serious enough to enter.

Yet not entering is the last thing you should do. If you venture inside, you’ll be greeted by the warm, friendly and charmingly nerdy staff. Ease into a fur-lined chair or lounge on the long Chesterfield sofas suspended by chains. High-contrast is the aim, with deep wood veneers, black chandeliers and dark walls balanced by golden chains and other architectural elements thrown into relief by the blazing fireplace. The decor is pure opulence.

We were treated to hand-selected cocktails with lengthy but engrossing descriptions. The intent of Bar Celona is a tapas bar that prepares specialty cocktails from a world and time where bitters and eggs are stirred into drinks. I was unfortunately too late to sample anything from the kitchen but the drinks kept me plenty busy.

I sampled a modern spin on an Old Fashioned. It incorporated grapefruit peel, cherries and a whiskey that is barreled for just 36 hours, leaving it clear as vodka. I ordered this on the suggestion of the bartender who gave me the history of the drink and why it should appeal to me since I am a champion for  Jameson.

It’s this kind of service and pride that makes you forgive the $14 price tag. (The decor helps, too.) We were not asked to leave when the bar was closed at midnight - as it does during the week - only to close the tab. It was hospitality in the truest sense of the word.

I hope this bastion of serious drinkers lasts. It is a cozy place with a caring personality. Ignore your insecurities and step inside this special place.

Bar Celona
104 S. 4th St.
(between Wythe Ave. & Berry St.)
Brooklyn, NY 11211
(718) 237-7828

P.S. Hey BC, a website with a gallery would be nice considering the decor and all…

» ABC’s V Stands Tall in the Tradition of Unsophisticated Sci Fi

This show looked like it would be a failure from the get-go. The trailers leading up to the show, with their mysterious blood-splattered V-shaped glyph, suggested there would be a lot of visual substance but not a lot of, well, substance.

I, like most fans of the too sparingly loved Firefly series, welcome back Morena Baccarin. The lovely, starlet plays the leader of the V’s and looks sexy as usual, sporting a short haircut and business woman’s attire. Without her, this show would be utterly hopeless.

The show begins with the V’s (the name for the visiting aliens) arriving on Earth and explaining that they had no idea we ever existed. We are then shown shots of this speech being delivered all over the world, in the respective language of the city each spacecraft is hovering over. If the aliens never even knew that there was intelligent life beyond their own, how do the V’s already speak every human language? What pisses you off more, is why are there only a group of 20 people who also find this strange? The real kicker, these people are suspicious because they have proof the V’s have been here for over 10 years already. That means that no one, no one at all on the entire planet finds it odd that the V’s already are masters of public relations, know intimate information of America; like 18 is the legal age of adulthood or any of the many facts they already know about us, despite having never met humans before.

This show makes me mad already. I just hope there are plenty of gratuitous shots of Ms. Baccarin.

Mad for “Mad For Chicken”

At my day job, we like to go out for lunch a lot. But the Chinese food in my area is barely edible. One day it dawned on my co-workers and I that we work right near Flushing, or China West as it could be referred to.

Getting all the way into China town in an hour, despite our proximity, is a daunting task. Instead we’ve taken to stopping short of China town and getting food in Korea town. The food here is excellent. Traditional noodles and Korean BBQ is a fantastic combination.

Mad for Chicken considers itself a BBQ restaurant but its a little more than that. They serve a few standard items and few odd items as well. One of the odder items is the Ramen Noodle with Cheese. This has become a staple of our ordering regime, along with the Small Tonkas. They are perfectly fried, panko crusted pork cutlets.

The first time we went there we ordered the afore mentioned items as well as the chicken and an octopus dish. The chicken was perfectly crisp but still juicy inside, unlike many a fried chicken served to me in my life. The skin is probably inflated first like duck giving the diner a crisp, crunchy sensation with every bite. The octopus on the other hand, was terrible.

Chewy and lacking any flavor this was a disappointing dish. It also cost around $20. On our second visit we tried to learn from our mistakes and only ordered the dishes that were around $10 or less. This, my friends, is the magic formula at Mad for Chicken. The less expensive dishes are thoughtful and delicious. Its like the chef feels compelled to make entree style dishes, but leaves his heart out of the equation.

We ordered the french fry and shrimp combo (around $13) and received perfectly fried shrimp and fries seasoned with Parmesan. You have to commend this place for its use of exotic ingredients. Or its bravery in combining ingredients most places would never put on the same plate.

This place is a perfect lunch spot. Who can complain about a place where the cheaper the food is the better it tastes? They are also delightfully friendly, offering complimentary frozen yogurt after every meal. A welcome site to calm the burning from the Ramen Noodle.

Mad For Chicken

157-18 Northern Blvd.
Flushing, NY 11354
Tel: 718-321-3818

Dim Sum in Queens

Jade Asian Restaurant & Caterers

Let me start by clearing the air on the topic of dim sum. If you, like I did, think dim sum is a type of dumpling, you’re wrong. If you think you’re going to at least find what commonly passes for a dumpling at dim sum, you‘re still wrong. Because if you should go looking for dim sum and find the real thing, you’ll be in for a shock.

Entering Jade is like entering the set of a game show. Master of ceremonies at the top of a marble stairway, mic hand, surrounded by adoring fans. Except it’s not a suave 67-year-old-man with salt-and-pepper hair and an unnatural tan. It’s an angry woman screaming out what I presume are numbers, or perhaps names, at her fans, the throngs of hungry Asian folk lining the stairways before the stage that is dim sum.

Dim sum is the act of getting together and eating an enormous breakfast in an equally enormous hall at a rather large table. This table will be comprised of your party and however many other parties it takes to fill up your round table. In my case, I was running late and my party had already been seated.

I got lucky and circumvented what was later described to me as a thank-the-good-lord-we-had-a-native-speaker-with-us kind of experience while waiting for the game show host to call you. Alone, I traversed the sea of tables and found my friends already eating. I was quickly poured a cup of chrysanthemum tea by my new company and they started telling me what was good or bad.

Now, I don’t really know how to rate a piece of tripe. Essentially as long as I found it edible, I figured this was some damn good tripe. And, well, it was edible. But there is a very particular flavor profile involved, something I’ve only tasted in China. Ever hear of star anise? It’s a very un-American flavor that is in everything there. That’s what told me this place was for real.



Sitting down, carts were zipping around me motivated by wrinkly women. The carts were all filled with food sitting in the same bamboo steamers that you usually see moo shoo in. Except these were filled with things that you’ve never seen in a Chinese restaurant before. There’s nothing Americanized here; this stuff is authentic.

So authentic that, as I sat there, a cart passed by with duck tongues. I recognized these from my trip. When I stopped the woman, she was so happy that a little gwai lo knew they were duck tongues. She was even more pleased when I ordered them. Duck tongues are like a chicken wing with only one bone and no joints. It’s just a little piece of tender, yet somewhat gummy, meat. And it happens to be delicious. I had tried these before, so it wasn’t totally new territory but I’d had them only once and never expected to see them again. But then came something I’ve never had before.

Duck feet. This was new. The last foot I ate, I didn’t enjoy. It was a pig foot. When I thought I had finished all that was edible about the foot I put it down, not full but satisfied that I really gave it a go. Then I looked at the plate of the friend who’d introduced me to pig feet in the first place. She had but a few bones left. I basically had what was served to me. But the duck foot was different. It was rather good. Again, not unlike a chicken wing. It had small bits of meat around bones and joints that fell apart. It was all tender, tasty and only the juiciest bits of meat. But it definitely was a foot; there was no disguising it, you bit through the webbing. This is not for everyone, but if you like, or don’t mind, the jelly kinds of meats, the cartilages and such, then duck feet are for you.

Now that I have sufficiently scared you from ever eating dim sum, let me give you some advice. There are way more average things than what I described. There are the commonly eaten parts of the pig and the chicken. There is a plain rice and good tea. But the truth is, don’t expect good service if you don’t go with someone that speaks the language. Even with someone who did, they tried to give my friend lo mein. But, hey, that’s ok. I could picture working in a kosher deli and keeping the tongue and chopped liver for myself and those in the know.

If you get the chance to go with someone who speaks Chinese, take it. It’s important. It’s fun. It’s like stepping into China for a morning. The only real negative is that it’s in Queens. Nothing’s perfect.

Special thanks to Hana and Rei

Jade Asian Restaurant & Caterers
136-28 39th Ave
Flushing, NY 11354
(718) 762-8821 

The Keurig Café One-Touch

We Made a Blog has acquired something life-changing. Specifically, the Keurig Café One-Touch milk frother. Believe us when we say it was never our intention to purchase such an item. Our lives had seemed relatively complete without it. Then one day last week we went to Bed Bath & Beyond to pick up some K-cups for the office Keurig coffeemaker at our day jobs.

Past an island of Keurigs and Keurig-related accessories lay a great sea of K-cups. We paced it stealthily, happily. Until we breached the edge and saw another island, another world. The land of Tassimo. We were gripped by envy. Sleeker, more Euro, available in three colors and boasting Starbucks pods, the Tassimo taunted us. Even its name suggested it was a zippy Ferrari to our gear-grinding Volkswagen.

We had chosen the Keurig ourselves out of an office supply catalog. We’d grown a bit disenchanted; the cup of coffee it dripped out was average, made even more so by the limited number of brands of K-cups that were office-authorized to order. So we’d taken to parting with our own cash to acquire a higher class of K-cup. But we’d just learned that none could achieve near-telepathic communion with the Keurig via bar code like the pods did with the Tassimo to calculate the perfect amount of water, brewing time and temperature for each beverage.

Four boxes of K-cups in hand but now sullen, we returned to the Keurig display for some sign that maybe we hadn’t made a second-rate choice in our daily coffee-brewing experience. That’s when we saw it. Barely bigger than a coffee mug, in the de rigueur brushed stainless of so many coffee-related products, was the true Keurig-branded product of our dreams. It promised two servings of hot or hot and frothed milk in 90 seconds with the touch of a button. Purchasing it was not even a question. Making peace with its necessity was. We engaged in mutually enabled rationalization. With darker roasts we could make near-lattes, macchiatos, cappuccinos. We’d save money by cutting down on our Starbucks visits. Our productivity would be higher. We’d be more creative. Possibly, we’d grow taller. Reader, we bought it.

For the record, yes, it’s pricey. So much so that the cashier initially thought there was an error when she rang it up. She asked us repeatedly if we knew that it was, in fact, only a milk frother. Her cautiousness just made us more resolute. We vowed to buy the best possible organic milk the neighboring Whole Foods had to test it out.

Back at the office we eagerly plugged it in below the coffee infographic we have posted up on the wall (are you sensing an obsession here?). Filled with milk and all lit up, it got to work. We peeked through the glass top to watch the milk softly whir to perfection. A bold K-cup that would have been merely an afternoon jolt was transformed into an experience by the creamy froth. Mornings are different. Afternoons are different. Life is better.

If you ask either of us for the dollar amount of the Café One-Touch, we’ll tell you that the cost was $40 and that we paid for only half of it. Neither statement, on its own, is a lie. But neither is the fact that, to us, it’s priceless.

ThanksLiving at Woodstock Animal Farm Sanctuary

Hipster locavorism goes one step further - to hipster no-carnivorism - at Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary’s ThanksLiving event. Animal rights supporters, vegetarians, vegans and those who love them have been coming together under one literal and metaphorical tent on a farm on the outskirts of Woodstock, NY, for the past four years.

Last Sunday the event was hosted by Dan Piraro - sanctuary board member, “Bizarro” cartoonist, stand-up comedian and retro-sartorial wonder. Veganism was done as a soft sell but given that Woodstock Farm Animal Sanctuary’s founders, husband and wife Doug Abel and Jenny Brown, are film and television veterans and vegans, the warm and fuzzy short films about their rescued farm animals hit hard. Especially when set to the low, mournful tunes of Brooklyn-originated, now Catskills-dwelling indie rock band Ida, who played live.

As an alterna-Thanksgiving, it wouldn’t be complete without a feast. Guests mingled and enjoyed hors d’oeurves from NYC restaurants (and Moby-spotting locations) Blossom and Candle Cafe and some local spots. The Dr. Cow tree nut cheese on a crostini with tapenade mimicked top-notch goat cheese, from the pleasantly sour bite to the creamy texture. A sea of vegan appetizers is a rare thing and they were accordingly devoured before everyone settled in for a dinner that included a Tuscan farro salad speckled with greens and butternut squash and blue corn-crusted seitan with chimichurri sauce. Vegan Treats delivered on its name with peanut butter mousse bomb cake, death by chocolate cake and pumpkin cheesecake.

ThanksLiving is the prime fundraiser for the sanctuary, which rescues abused and neglected farm animals. Throughout the event, guests browsed raffle and silent auction items that ranged from high-end vegan shoes from Olsen Haus to a signed copy of My Morning Jacket singer and vegetarian Jim James’ first solo effort, which benefits the sanctuary and is a tribute to vegetarian George Harrison. Meanwhile, the crowd heard from Mercy for Animals’ executive director Nathan Runkle and John Phillips, co-founder and executive director of the New York League of Humane Voters, who spoke with the earnestness, humor and manner of Michael Cera about holding politicians accountable for their stands on factory farming and other issues.

With its message of peace and love toward animals and a gentle nudge toward taking action, ThanksLiving shows that change can still grow out of a muddy field outside of Woodstock.

A Review of Chef Colicchio’s Craft Bar

So my sister just turned 30. (Happy Birthday big sis!) And, god bless her, she decided we should go out somewhere special for dinner. We went to zagats.com and started looking. Anisa was a fan favorite, but unfortunately suffered from a fire and wouldn’t be open in time. Obviously Peter Lugers came up, but that almost seems pedestrian now that we know about the $10 burgers. BTW, if you don’t know, Lugers has a $10 burger that may be one of the best cheeseburgers there are.

Anyway, we picked Craft Bar, the Tom Colicchio joint. Needless to say I’m syked. I’ve been lucky enough to have gone to Felidia and Babo, so I know to expect a lot out of these chefs. Yes, this is Craft Bar not Craft so its a little less expensive and I’m assuming a little less stuffy. All good things in my book.

A bold move. The front of Craft Bar is all glass. Its extremely inviting, especially on a need-your-scarf October night. I wondered what it would look like if there weren’t a lot of people in it. If the big glass facade would result in a cavernous look. But that night— there was no need to worry. The bar was full, there were happy people conversing and filled tables that gave it a buzzing, but not hurried din once you entered.

The lobby has a catwalk with access to myriad wines in rows of fridges. The look is modern, the catwalk is black steel. The stools of the bar contrast with the metal with their warm wood but are clearly a modern design. The whole restaurant has a look that suggested you would leave stuffed, drunk and happy.

We ordered oysters. Lots of oysters. The entire table agreed that these might be the best oysters anyone had ever had. They came with a balsamic vinaigrette, a first for me, but the acidity worked really well.

I really like octopus and have made enough attempts at ordering the stuff to know that ordering octopus is a great way to tell if there are good chefs behind the counter. So I ordered the octopus. To me, the stuff should be charred but not chewy, the way they were served at Babo and Felidia. Chef Colicchio did not disappoint.

All the apps were exceptional. The Smoked Pig Head Terrine was even surprisingly good. It looked like one of those meats that are held together by a jelly. Except this was smoked pig so it tasted smoky and rich. But the varying taste it had depending on the color of the protein pressed between the jell-o mold you just spread on a nice, unsuspecting triangle of toast was alarming.

As was the soup. It was a Clam Chowder with Pig Belly. How could that have been the dish that went wrong? But it was. It had no depth of flavor. Ol’ Tommy would have torn apart a top chef that made this (sorry had to go there at least once).

The other disappointing item was the Lamb Shank. It had no real flavor. Which was weird because the Celery Root Ravioli was outstanding. As was the Skate and the Pork Belly. So, the more routine items on the menu were the only things that weren’t great. Considering they weren’t any cheaper, I seriously suggest expanding your culinary horizons at this restaurant. Skate wing tastes like scallops. They will serve you a giant piece of fish that tastes exactly like a scallop. And Pork Belly is like taking the goodness that is pork and distilling it into a seared rectangle that you place over a delicious sauce (i have no idea what it was) and lentils that served to soak up the excess goodness that ran down this perfectly seasoned piece of heaven. This place is dope.

The deserts were excellent as well. Due to a snafu on an order, the waitress threw in a grape sorbet with whip cream and peanut butter cookies desert. The waitress and the rest of the staff was very nice, btw.

I would highly recommend going here. The service was excellent. We sat for over three hours and never once felt the slightest bit rushed. The crowd had an occasional family with a kid wearing a hoodie that didnt look out of place despite most of the crowd being a little more upscale. They have a $10 Corn Beef sandwich that’s giving me a reason to come for lunch.

This place gets a big thumbs up.