The Rake Magazine

Year: 2007

  • Eat, Read, and Be Merry

    DINING
    Meet The Chef: Grand Café

    2355801421.jpgOne of the great joys of dining out is not having to worry about the cooking, but wouldn’t it be nice to see what happens behind the scenes? Wouldn’t it be nice to watch and learn, and perhaps even be able to recreate the experience at home? Tonight might offer just this opportunity. Join Chef Justin Frederick, of the Grand Café, as he prepares a five course meal designed to celebrate spring cuisine. It’s a dinner and a cooking class all wrapped up in one. How can you go wrong? The evening will begin with an appetizer of Le Lapin Terrine and a salad of fava beans, Spring beans, black truffle pecorino, and shaved artichokes. Then, a lesson on fish, as Justin demonstrates the process of butchering a whole head-on wild Alaskan halibut prepared with a Spring vegetable risotto with pistou, a mixture of crushed basil, garlic, and olive oil. Top off the evening with an Italian dessert of affuccato, fresh espresso poured atop ice cream, with pignoli cookies. Eat and learn, folks. Tonight’s your chance to learn the art of the increasingly hard to find neighborhood café.

    6 – 9 p.m., Grand Café, 3804 Grand Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-822-8260; $70.

    BOOKS & AUTHORS by Jon Lurie
    More Glitterati than Geek

    4148486032.jpgSherman Alexie was born hydrocephalic, and doctors predicted he would suffer severe retardation. However, the very opposite occurred; he showed signs of prodigy, devouring novels by age five. Still, he endured effects of his condition — seizures and bed-wetting — and was subject to bullying on the Spokane Reservation where he grew up.

    In his new novel Flight (Alexie’s first in ten years), the celebrated author of Indian Killer and Reservation Blues seems to channel that ostracism into a fifteen-year-old protagonist whose acne is so bad he’s known simply as “Zits.” Today more glitterati than geek, Alexie is known for acerbic wit that causes his audience to laugh while their hearts break.

    7 p.m., Lake of the Isles Lutheran Church, 2020 West Lake of the Isles Pkwy., Minneapolis; 612-374-4023.

    ART AND LITERATURE
    Can’t Help but Love the Beatniks

    Beat.jpgWhat’s our obsession with the Beat Generation. Is it simply our appreciation of the great poetry that came from this? Or perhaps our romanticized ideals of the great characters of the movement: Kerouac, Ginsberg, Burroughs, Ferlinghetti? The celebration of disgust and imperfections? The screeching demand for freedom? Or is it just the associated styles — the black clothes, the bongos, the hats and shades — like some strange film noir apparition tossed into a seedy cafe? Whatever it is, it’s real, and it’s far-reaching. We love the Beats. Why fight it? Join photographer Christopher Felver for his Beat book release and installation of photography, letters, and ephemera from the Beat Generation. Tonight’s opening reception offers wine, hors d’ouvres, and live music by Chuck Solberg. Books will be available for sale courtesy of Magers & Quinn Booksellers, and Felver will be on hand to sign books and photographs.

    5 – 8 p.m., The Grand Hand Gallery, 611 Grand Ave., Saint Paul; 651-312-1122.

    FILM
    Here I Am

    3680505154.jpgThe Jewish Film Festival is in full swing, with a number of films at the Hopkins Cinema. Catch two films from the Israeli Heartbeat Series this evening: A Green Chariot and Like a Fish Out of Water. Or catch a most unusual feature at the Sabes Community Center. Hineini: Coming Out in a Jewish High School, just as the title suggests, is a film about a young girl coming out as a lesbian in a conservative Jewish school. Somehow, I can’t remember seeing this one before. Hineini — Hebrew for “here I am” — follows this young girl as she fights to establish a gay-straight alliance at a Jewish High School in Boston. The Jewish Gay Lesbian Bisexual Transgender Initiative is planning discussions to follow the film.

    7 p.m., Sabes Jewish Community Center, 4330 S Cedar Lake Rd., Jay and Rose Phillips Building, Edina; 952-381-3400.

    MUSIC
    Accidents Will Happen

    Elvis7.jpgWhat? You weren’t a big fan of Elvis Costello & the Imposters? How can that be? This guy has done it all — from his early days of punk and new wave, to the muddy backroads of country and soul. He attacks everything with his particular style, and that ever-so-trademark voice, which has matured and solidified over the years. This man is a true musician, and a much better guitarist than he’s ever given credit for. He keeps coming back after all these years, but for how much longer? Get it while it’s hot, baby.

    7 p.m., Myth, 3090 Southlawn Dr., Maplewood; 651-779-6984; $45.

  • What To Watch When You're Watching At Home

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    This week on DVD:

    What to watch, what to watch? Hollywood seems dead set on shoving its worst garbage down our throats this week, what with Spider-Man 3 devouring all the screens at the Multi-Plex. There’s not a whole lot that’s new this week down at your local video store, either. Breaking and Entering is half a good movie, boasts some of the most intense and realistic sex scenes in recent memory, but also veers wildly out of control. Jude Law gets his computer stolen by some young punk, and falls for the thief’s mother, who just happens to be Juliette Binoche, who is making every attempt to look dumpy and unattractive. For God’s sake…

    No, I didn’t see Fur: An Imaginary Portrait of Diane Arbus because I love Arbus’ work, know that casting Nicole Kidman was a grievous error, and think the film looks shallow and silly… Deliver Us From Evil, on the other hand, looks almost too intense, a probing look at abuse in the Catholic church, and including interviews with one particular priest who might just be the worst pedophile in American history… The Tiger and The Snow is the new, universally panned feature from Roberto Benigni. I am in utter awe at the Hindenburg-like crashing of this actor’s career. Life is Beautiful could be the worst film ever to win as many Oscars as it did, and that seems to have prompted Mr. Benigni to remake it, over and over and over again. Apparently, he sold his soul for Hollywood’s magic hardware, and now he’s paying the price…

    On a side note, the great critic Anthony Lane has an incredible article about Barbara Stanwyck in last week’s New Yorker. A wise cineaste would do well to read the piece, marvel at the writing, ignore what’s new at the Hollywood Video and rent The Lady Eve, Sam Fuller’s The Forty Guns, Stella Dallas, or Double Indemnity, among the many classics that starred that classic broad.

    Also, check out that weird southern rag The Oxford American, which has an entire issue dedicated to Southern Films (available at select newsstands through June). Uneven as usual, the American is nonetheless fascinating, especially Gerald Early’s great piece on exploitative films. Includes a DVD of film clips. At the very least, you’ll come away with a handful of titles to grab for your Netflix queue.

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  • Fashion Strides

    skort.jpgBecause registration just opened for the Twin Cities Marathon (and, as of now, is still open), I’m still stuck on the issue of running fashion. Huge strides (hardy-har!) have been made in this area as of late, with much thanks to the running skort (an Adidas version is seen at left, as modeled by my friend D’Ann during a recent spree at Marathon Sports) and Stella McCartney (see below). And yet, I still see plenty of sweaty saps circling the lakes in their soaked cotton gym shorts–you know, the ones that creep higher and higher up the slicked plump inner thigh until meeting at the center of the crotch. Tsk-tsk.

    main.jpgIn any case, over the past two years, I’ve been very happy to witness the gradual relaxing of standards for running attire. Used to be runners were expected to look dumpy. Not anymore. As a matter of fact, at last week’s TC 1-Mile Race, I spotted the funkiest running getup I’ve seen to date. I almost collapsed under pressure of envy! She was wearing a sports bra and “compression” shorts over this last-season Stella McCartney for Adidas tennis dress. (Sorry about picturing the unattractive mannequin, folks. I wasn’t packing the Elph that day.)

    As far as I’m aware, the only place to see and touch Stella McCartney for Adidas is at the Mall of America’s Paiva store. But for convenience sake, I’ve provided a link to the ShopAdidas selection of stuff from our fair lady Stella. But, since this is also an issue of comfort, the Twin Cities’ finest running specialty stores are currently stocked with all kinds of great-looking, high-performance skorts.

  • Early Indications: Strib to Lose 50 from Newsroom

    Word from the still on-going meeting Star Tribune publisher Par Ridder is holding in the paper’s jam-packed assembly room-cafeteria is that Avista Capital Partners will cut approximately 50 more newsroom jobs within the next two weeks through an enhanced buy-out plan. The plan will compensate employees two weeks for every year of service up to a new maximum of 52 weeks, plus an additional six months health insurance coverage.

    The paper announced on its intranet service that it will seek 145 job cuts from the company as a whole.

    Gallows humor was abundant as Ridder trotted out essentially the same “Business Literacy” computerized slide show he gave last year at the St. Paul Pioneer Press. This is the one where all indicators point down, except of course executive compensation and shareholder value.

    Another story making the rounds this afternoon is a sighting of Ridder out for his morning jog this AM … wearing a St. Paul Pioneer Press t-shirt.

    Ridder’s note to the Strib staff:

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    >Employee Meeting Recap
    >by Par Ridder, Publisher and CEO
    >May 7, 2007 – At an all employee meeting today we announced that as part of our ongoing efforts to reduce costs, the Star Tribune will be reducing the workforce by about 145 employees, primarily through a voluntary buyout program. I want to summarize some of the key points from the meeting that give context to this decision. The Star Tribune is in the same situation as most other metropolitan newspapers across the country. Our revenue has been declining for two years now, while expenses have been increasing. Our performance for the first quarter of 2007 was much worse than we anticipated, and there are signs that this trend will not reverse soon. Our revenue decline is primarily due to a steep drop in Classified advertising. We are facing both weak markets in real estate, automotive and employment and a migration of advertising in these categories from print to online. Declining revenue and increasing expenses mean that our profit has dropped substantially these past two years. For us to be a healthy, viable business, we must stabilize this situation-first by getting our costs in line with our revenue. Our costs fall into three main areas: compensation, newsprint and all other. Compensation is by far our largest expense category. In addition to other efforts being made to reduce costs, we have determined that we will need to go down about 145 jobs this year in order to achieve the necessary expense reductions. While we will be looking to reduce newsprint and all other costs as well, we are now faced with the necessity of having to reduce our workforce. Most other major metropolitan newspapers around the country have already taken this step. The senior vice presidents and I have put together a plan that seeks to get the majority of these reductions through voluntary buyouts. Those who are eligible for this voluntary program will be notified. However, if we do not get enough volunteers, we will have to move to layoffs to get the necessary reductions. There also are some job eliminations in this plan. It’s important to understand that our business model has fundamentally changed. This is not a temporary situation but a major shift in the media environment that we will be wrestling with for years to come. As I mentioned in the meeting, dismantling a newspaper is not a strategy. However, cutting costs will allow us to stabilize our business as we work to reallocate resources so we can get the Star Tribune growing again. This summer we will be having all company meetings to create our strategy going forward. Everyone will be invited and I encourage you to attend. From the ownership change to the change in leadership and finally this announcement, this clearly has been a tough few months for everyone. Thank you for your professionalism and hard work as we navigate this difficult time.
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  • Celebrating Jazz, Punk, and Renoir

    MUSIC
    No Frills, Just Thrills

    karrin_allyson.jpgWhat really separates a great singer from the mass of decent voices out there is a certain kind of effortless maturity, a natural grace. When Karrin Allyson sings she does so without pretention, without fanciful ornamentation. Instead, she simple works the song in a genuinely artistic fashion. She tosses in a scat chorus. She sits back on certain beats. She turns from an obvious opportunity to a more meaningful one. This two-time Grammy nominee knows her craft. Allyson has a spectacular voice, and she uses it magnificently, bringing out every layer and expressing every depth of emotion within songs of all genres, from very expressive ballads to upbeat bossa novas, from pop to blues to bebop.

    7 and 9 p.m., Dakota Jazz Club and Restaurant, 1010 Nicollet Ave., Minneapolis; 612-332-1010; $35, $25.

    Listen to Karrin Allyson.

    It’s Dance Night, with an 80s Beat

    flip1.jpgGosh, what do we call this now? The new wave of new wave? I think I’ve lost track here. Thanks to their sloppy brand of scratchy post-post-punk, The Rapture was hailed as a forerunner of the post-punk revival that was taking place in the early 2000s. In 2003 they were dubbed “Post Punk Disco Pioneers,” and now, as “new rave” sweeps the nation, The Rapture provides the soundtrack to old-school technicolour rave nostalgia. We’re not talking glo-sticks here, people. What we’re talking is pure dance-inspiring energy. We’re talking upbeat. We’re talking vigor. And believe it or not, we’re not talking noise. The Rapture might be doing their punk-disco best to get us on that dance-floor, but they sacrifice nothing of their wry lyrical angst in the process. Luke Jenner’s asperous vocals and Safer’s melancholic wailing keep the underbelly dark. Basically, yes, life might suck, but get thee to a dance floor and just go mental. The Rapture is joined tonight by another band with a get-up-and-dance attitude and a superbly trashy punk mentality, synth pop band Shiny Toy Guns. Simultaneously retroactive and futuristic, Shiny Toy Guns blends seductive femme-fatale vocals with gritty analog beats and system-igniting synths.

    8 p.m., Fine Line Music Cafe, 318 1st Ave. N., Minneapolis; 612-338-8100; $18.

    Listen to The Rapture.
    Listen to Shiny Toy Guns.

    You Can’t Go Wrong with Frigid Primates

    Arctic73.jpgIf the new dance-punk-thing just isn’t for you, then perhaps you need some freezing monkeys. You can never go wrong with monkeys. I mean, hell, these guys are the real deal. They’re even from the U.K. That still means something, right? In a nutshell, the Arctic Monkeys are part of the indie rock scene alongside similar contemporary guitar bands such as The Libertines (minus the druggy death glow), The Futureheads, and Franz Ferdinand. The frigid monkeys wrap a taut punk rock approach in pop melodies and tomes of adolescent growing pains. Everybody loves growing pains.

    8 p.m., First Avenue, 701 First Avenue N., Minneapolis; 612-332-1775; $25.

    Listen to the Arctic Moneys.

    BOOKS AND AUTHORS
    Art-Related Fiction

    2421642959.jpgIf dancing isn’t your thing, you might be looking for something a bit more low-key for this gloomy Monday. You’re in luck. Bestselling author Susan Vreeland will be reading from her new novel, Luncheon of the Boating Party, an exploration of Renoir’s painting by the same name. Vreeland, two-time winner of the Theodor Geisel Award, is known for her historical fiction on art-related themes.

    7:30 p.m., Barnes & Noble Booksellers at Galleria, 3225 W. 69th St., Edina; 952-920-1060.

  • Shroomin'

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    Every year I get the fever to forage. The thought of walking around a park for a couple of hours and coming out with an armload of wild edibles is like winning the lottery to me. Pirate like, even.

    Today I am especially craving mushrooms, morels. Maybe it was the overdose of cheap and tawdry guacamole over the weekend that has me dwelling on dusky, earthy flavors. I want rich and buttery soft.

    I missed the mushroom class at Whitewater State Park this weekend, but it remains one of the best places to hunt morels. It may seem odd, but as mushroom hunting is a secretive sport (to the lone hunter go the spoils) there are few public gatherings and events. The Minnesota Mycological Society is a great resource, but you need to join up to go on their forays. Understandable.

    Personally, I’d rather go out on my own, on a soggy Monday when others are at work, and trust in fortune.

  • Lileks the Reporter? Hard to Imagine.

    As previously mentioned, James Lileks, was one of five Star Tribune columnists summoned into meetings last week and, uh, “offered” the opportunity to volunteer to give up their columnizing for straight reporting gigs.

    As Lileks himself writes here, it seems he was given something firmer than an offer, and his mini-column, “The Daily Quirk”, will cease publication in two weeks, and, if I’m following this correctly, he’ll begin beat reporting about the internet, which as he notes is a whole different schmeckler than writing ON the internet.

    As someone who was always baffled by how the Strib used Lileks — from the “Backfence” to the “Quirk”, with no long(er) form feature writing or, better yet, off-beat right-wing political punditry in between — this “reassignment” smells like the familiar tactic of humiliating someone to the point they leave on their own.

  • Night Falls, And Keeps On Falling

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    Waking, by reason of their continual cares, fears, sorrows, and dry brains, is a symptom that much crucifies melancholy men.

    —Robert Burton, The Anatomy of Melancholy

    All he could do was transcribe the interminable babbling voice of the night, the insinuating perverse voice of the demons.

    —Pietro Citati, Kafka

    What if an individual is perceiving a daydream and a series of external sensory inputs at precisely the same time, and has lost the capacity to distinguish one from the other? What happens to his perceptual world? Clearly he will be peopling his universe of awareness with elements that are altogether private, presences generated from within which for him will be a genuine part of the real world; these are what he sees, or hears, or is otherwise sensing. And should he then be unable to differentiate these from his everyday perceptions, then indeed he may move into a haunted, nightmarish world, and be a very troubled human being.

    —Joseph D. Noshpitz, “Reality Testing: A Neuropsychological Fantasy,” in Comprehensive Psychology

    A common notion about the relationship of sleep to mental health is that total sleep loss…deranges the mind and may result in some kind of breakdown….When serious sleep disturbances are present, as they almost always are in the mentally ill, the patient’s history often indicates that the sleep disturbance preceeded the actual break from reality.

    —William C. Dement, Some Must Watch While Some Must Sleep –Exploring the World of Sleep

    On particularly dark nights the seven black rabbits that live somewhere in the bushes in my backyard emerge from their burrow or bunker (or whatever it is that rabbits live in) and move about upright, staggering and lurching around on their back legs.

    It seems to me that they’re uncommonly large for rabbits. Some of them probably stand at least four feet high. There’s nothing even remotely human about their movements.

    They were particularly active in the winter months, and I spent a good deal of time watching them closely from the darkness of my room. One night, quite inexplicably, I saw them hang a puppet from a tree by its neck. I eventually concluded that they were members of some kind of rabbit version of a religious order. I’d see them coming and going from my garage at all hours. I gathered they were building tiny coffins.

    I surmised this last bit of information from the fact that I had seen what were unmistakably funeral processions and burials. I’d watched as the rabbits shouldered caskets through the snow in the moonlight, and dug holes with their long legs. It was clear that my backyard was becoming a rather crowded burial ground.

    What exactly the rabbits were burying remained a mystery for a number of months, until the night I saw several of them drag a baby across the yard and disappear into the garage.

    They’ve been a bit scarce of late, now that the snow’s gone, but I have occasionally seen them out there milling around the garage or skulking furtively up and down the alley. The last time I saw them I could have sworn they were smoking cigarettes.

    I’m not sure how exactly one would go about negotiating with rabbits, but I would very much like to strike some sort of deal that would involve these creatures delivering to me a living infant. I’ve wanted a little bitty baby of my own for quite some time now, ever since I lost contact with so many children of my acquaintance.

    Should I somehow manage to procure a child from these animals, I shall name it either Ezra or Ezrena (or perhaps Theodore), and I will love the child and it shall be the King of Nothing Never, and a keeper of beasts, and full of joy.

    The victim of insomnia, having seen the slowness of the dawn, arises with every nerve tattered and the capacity for happiness ruined. His morning is a desolation.

    —Arnold Bennett, Things That Have Interested Me. Third Series. 1926

    Melancholics are not so sleepless as maniacs, yet the want of sleep is often an early and prominent symptom. They do not readily sleep, and if they do, they awake soon to be tormented by the vilest misery that it is possible for human creatures to endure.

    —A.W, MacFarlane, M.D., Insomnia and its Therapeutics. 1891.

    Under [insomnia’s] influence injurious changes are permitted by the patient to be made in his daily habits; pursuits which formerly engaged his attention no longer interest him; even important business concerns are sacrificed; and against such tendencies no pre-existing vigour of intellect will afford any defence; the strongest minds (intellectually considered) may sink into apathy and feebleness.

    —James Russell, M.D., “On Sleeplessness.” British Medical Journal, November 16, 1861.

    After dinner, my friend drove me, in a carriage, some five miles back into the country –the greater part of the way, along the margin of Migunticook Lake, and under a terrific precipice, whose boulders every moment threaten destruction. In fact, the whole of a bright sunny day, cooled with healthful zephyrs, was spent in pleasurable excitement. Interesting conversation beguiled the evening; and, after family worship, I sunk to rest in a luxurious curtained bed. Ere long, I slept; and, about five o’clock next morning, was awakened by the crowing of the cock. This was the only night’s sleep I have had these last six years and seven months; so help me God. Since then, my nights have been tedious, as usual, without sleep, and some of them distressing.

    —“An Example of Protracted Wakefulness,” Boston Medical and Surgical Journal. July 31, 1845.

    Experience in private practice, and extended observation in the wards of general and lunatic hospitals, have taught me that the ordinary hypnotics are frequently unreliable, and that in some instances their use is attended by results as bad as, if not of more serious consequence than, the conditions they were intended to remove. I do not wish by this somewhat sweeping assertion to be understood to condemn the ordinary hypnotics, or to doubt their efficacy in suitable cases; but it seems to me that we run great danger of becoming routinists in the matter of sleeping-draughts….Like most of my fellow practitioners, I constantly meet patients who have run through the whole gamut of sleep-producing drugs, and find their last condition, in many instances, worse than their first.

    —Edward N. Brush, M.D., “Some Clinical Experiences With Insomnia,” The Practitioner, January 1889.

  • Lost Weekend

    Things would seem to be trending downward at the moment, wouldn’t you say?

    The Twins have scored a total of 12 runs in their last five games, and managed just five in the weekend series with Boston. Their best hitter is headed for the disabled list –he’s already there, actually. The reigning MVP is batting .150 (and slugging .225) with runners in scoring position. Sidney Ponson is still in the starting rotation, and still finding a way to allow almost two base runners every inning.

    Sure, Torii Hunter has a 21-game hitting streak, and has been tearing it up, but what difference has that made? I’ll tell you: None. Or basically none. The team has lost two straight series, and five of its last seven games. The schedule is increasingly inhospitable, and if things don’t get turned around in a hurry the Twins could find themselves looking at a double-digit deficit in the Central by the end of May.

    It’s all very discouraging right now, but last year demonstrated that things can indeed turn around in a hurry. Of course most organizations would be lucky to have a season like that every twenty years, but what the hell.

    If you’re not pissed about the whole Roger Clemens charade, something’s seriously wrong with you. The handling of that announcement today was straight out of the Vince McMahon playbook. I guess the only real surprise was that Clemens didn’t emerge from Monument Park in a cloud of smoke during the seventh-inning stretch. Or, you know, they could have had the Rocket parachute into the ballpark and land on the pitcher’s mound.

    But, no, truly, the way the Yankees did handle it was actually worse. It was too hokey and sickening to even be entertaining. The man is forty-five years old, and New York is going to pay him $20 million to pitch four months of the season. The whole thing is just wrong, wrong, wrong.

    It’s so fucking wrong.

    Blow hamstring, blow.

    That’s all I have to say about that.

  • Stribbers Await Monday Meeting

    Just to give you an idea of the anxiety hanging over their weekend, Star Tribune employees left the building Friday hoping for the best, but expecting the worst from announcements scheduled for 3 pm Monday, (tomorrow).

    Operating as per usual with little to no information, rumors were that new owners Avista Capital Partners, via their hirelings, editor Nancy Barnes and/or publisher Par Ridder, would reveal their need for new staff reductions, beyond those taken in the voluntary buy-outs of late February.

    The most repeated rumor — rumor, I say — had Avista requiring 60 positions out of the newsroom and 200 company-wide. As draconian as that sounds, many other similar-sized papers have seen as much in recent weeks, as owners slash staff well ahead of revenue declines in order to assure investor profits through the near-term.

    A second rumor had Avista fattening up the previous standard buy-out offer of two weeks for every year served up to a maximum of 40, up to a maximum of 52, with maybe some lingering medical benefits.

    It is not known if Mr. Ridder will take the buy-out offer.