from our new unofficial headquarters in the pike street fish fry there will probably be several opportunities to cook large unruly dinners for traveling indie legends. the fry is precariously perched in the neumos tree fort and just about every rock world darling worth their salt passes through the increasingly glamorous club/bar/fishfry complex – sometimes it will just be a quick bite of fish but occaisionally we will convince a road weary band that sitting down to a long table and eating deeply and drinking wide are worth the time – the American indie rock tour seems to be unsurprisingly attention deficit disorder-ed. bands spend little to no time in each place – eat complete crap from whatever is in a 2 block radius, knock out a show and hit the road often directly after the performance. the only respite from this march seems to be in towns and cities where friends reside – I have seen many a band rescued from the battle ground for 2-3 hours fed some vegan specialty and dropped back at the club. I have alternately gained new respect for musicians that tour and desaturated any fantasy I ever had about living the life of a rock musician.
from that vantage point I am thrilled to provide something a bit more cultural than the taco-bell-take-out-window for the road bound– our first opportunity came in the form of a person I have idolized from afar for years – yep – jack white. the raconteurs newest tour was self described as “a small club tour” – but the band didn’t seem to reduce their production staff to reflect the size of the venue. we got word that they were interested in sitting down together – supping in the one pot style – sharing food and wine with the band, the opening act and the entire production crew. i must say I was rather peeing myself with excitement – not really just to meet jack – as I knew it wouldn’t be some kind of Gilgamesh like reunion of two lost brothers – I have found celebrities to be rather distant and often difficult to converse with – but just to insert a genuine food experience in the middle of their tour had me whistling with excitement.
then it happened – the American thing – 5 minutes before dinner – things changed. this wasn’t some slopped together feast – super star chef and dear friend matt dillon from sitka and spruce fame was upstairs in the fry kitchen hand rolling cous cous, deep frying whole radishes, making a sumptuous fish stew. the table was set for 25 – the candles were aflicker – we were swishing about in an electric fashion – anticipating – and then the production manager whispers in my ear.
it looks like we are going to need to do this a bit differently… the raconteurs are going to eat alone….
why? good question. but that is how it went down – the band members took their seats in the middle of the long long very long table. and we very politely served them – brendan benson was a supreme gentleman – thrilled about the food, fascinated by the nettle salsa verde – and very curious about the entire one pot project. jack was a bit more regal and aloof...
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