Author: rakemag

It’s obvious that 112 Eatery is run by people who passionately love food, and especially love to serve it. Restaurant power couple Nancy St. Pierre and Isaac Becker (who was formerly head chef at Lurcat) strive to perfect every detail, providing not only attentive service, but also gorgeously presented meals. You might say that the menu under-promises and over-delivers. Take what is listed simply as cold cuts with pickles: This appetizer turns out to be a plate generously piled with imported cured meats, homemade gherkins, and brilliant freshly made mustard. The French cheeseburger comes topped with a creamy, melty chunk of Brie—and for seven dollars. Humility—what a nice change of pace. 112 N. Third St., Minneapolis; 612-343-7696

The legions of people who grew up eating at the Convention Grill know to expect the frosty tin when they order a malt. This old-fashioned accoutrement is standard-issue at a restaurant that prides itself on generosity: Its skyscraper burgers come heaped with onions and surrounded by enough fries to satisfy even the most strapping construction worker. This bounteous attitude extends to the dining atmosphere. The Convention doesn’t mind kids and it seems that all the waitresses have smiles to spare. 3912 Sunnyside Rd., Edina, 952-920-6881

What a revelation a good order of fish and chips can be. Normally, we are stuck with fish sticks or cardboard nuggets processed from some kind of fish slurry. Proper fish and chips—the kind Mac’s serves—are hot and crispy, never soggy or overtly greasy. On the fish side of the plate, Mac’s batter is touched with a sweetness that nicely complements its base malty flavor. The meaty halibut is firm and flaky. The chips (which, okay, are fries) are plump with a crunchy outer crust. With a good sousing of vinegar, they measure up quite nicely. Don’t be surprised if you have to wait for a table; this joint is small and habit forming. 1330 W. Larpenteur Ave., St. Paul; 651-489-5299

As a North Dakota farm kid, Chuck Klosterman took in a lot of empty roads, endless skies, and fields of corn that stretched to the horizon. His pipelines to the greater world were Top 40 radio and eighties television. And then he heard Mötley Crüe’s Shout at the Devil, which transformed him into a metalhead, who grew up to become a professional metalhead—that is, a music journalist. Klosterman offered obsessive yet engaging ramblings on topics such as the social relevance of Bon Jovi in his heavy-metal memoir Fargo Rock City. More recently, in Killing Yourself to Live: 85% of a True Story, he chronicled a road trip to the death sites of various figures of music history, including Graceland’s Elvis death toilet; the Macon, Georgia, street where two members of the Allman Brothers were killed in separate motorcycle accidents a year apart; Mud Island Harbor on the Mississippi, where Jeff Buckley drowned; and the Lake Street apartment where Bob Stinson drank himself to death. For a musician, dying is the ultimate career move. Since the same effect doesn’t translate to rock critics, we’ve decided to let Klosterman live. But we’re shipping him off to a desert island. Here’s what he’d like to bring along.??

1. Shane Carruth’s 2004 film Primer. This is the most confusing narrative movie I’ve ever watched; it makes Pi seem like Groundhog Day. I’ve seen it twice, but I’m pretty sure it would take two hundred viewings to figure out what is going on. (Note: This selection operates under the assumption that I will have a device that will allow me to play the film—if not, I guess I would just have to read the back of the DVD box really, really slowly.)??

2. Papaver somniferum. These are opium seeds. I have never experimented with heroin, but I can’t foresee any downside to smoking opium on a desert island. It’s not like I have to worry about being late for work. And I don’t have any friends there, so there’s nobody to alienate. ??

3. Black Box: The Complete Original Black Sabbath (1970-1978). I thought about bringing the Beatles’ White Album, primarily because it’s one of the only legitimate albums I can think of that has rock (“Glass Onion”), metal (“Helter Skelter”), blues (“Yer Blues”), pop (“Everybody’s Got Something to Hide Except Me and Monkey”), novelty (“Rocky Raccoon”), hippie music (“Piggies”), nap rock (“So Tired”), and experimental bullshit (“Revolution 9”). But then I remembered I was bringing opium seeds, so I might as well just lie in a hammock and listen to Sabbath until I die.??

4. One pregnant German shepherd. I grant that this is a curious decision for many reasons, one of which being that I generally prefer the company of cats. However, in this context I think I would be better off with a litter of German shepherd puppies that could be trained to serve and protect me. Perhaps they could even work in concert and kill wild boars for my own personal consumption! Obviously, the downside to this scheme would be the risk of eventually populating the island with packs of savage inbred dingoes. But I would take this risk.??

5. One Nerf football. Admittedly, not my wisest choice. But fun.

My favorite question of the moment is “What are you obsessed with?” I realize the idea of obsession scares people off, but I decided to make a list of my current obsessions—is that an obsessive thing to do? Oh well. What’s a little psychiatric disorder going to hurt??The things I am obsessed with, in no particular order, are:?

1. Coffee. Sometimes I lay in bed at night, unable to sleep in anticipation of my morning cup of coffee. (No, I am never switching to decaf.)?

2. Death. How anyone can not be obsessed with death is mystifying to me. It crosses my mind every day in any situation.?

3. The C-level comedy The Money Pit. If I’m surfing channels and I come across this film, I will inexplicably watch whatever is left of it for the fiftieth time.?

4. The complete imbalance in men’s choices for footwear, compared to women’s. Do men really want a mere eight variations of an already-boring style??

5. Trying to identify the voice in a commercial. This one has been known to drive loved ones around me to drink.?

6. Cats. If one appears on television or I spot one outdoors, I will stop whatever I am doing. Like a two-year-old learning to identify, I catch myself saying “kitty” quietly to myself.?

7. Boys in bands who appear to cut their own hair.?

8. Biographies of people who’ve spent time in the nuthouse. I can’t help but believe that, had I been born in 1915, someone would’ve thought cutting out part of my head was a good idea. “There now, Lucia, don’t you feel calmer?”?

9. Vintage clothes. I know it skeeves out so many people to wear someone else’s garments. It’s for that very reason that I am drawn to them. I should clarify that. I’m not bothered by a worn collar, or by the shape of someone else’s foot in a secondhand pair of shoes; however, I am not enthralled with the idea of wearing a dress marked with some flapper’s pit stains. ??

Email Mary at popularcreeps@yahoo.com

Well, it isn’t the Fillmore, but Lucinda Williams’ heartbreaking ditties ought to work just as well in a place that keeps animals confined in cages. After all, while Williams is known to belt out the occasional blues-rock wallop, we would never think of her shows as sunny occasions. Instead, her world-weary, weathered voice and her songs, which often wallow in memories of lost love, have a particular resonance with the the lovesick, the homesick, and the imprisoned (perhaps animals as well as humans). This time, when she croons “I wanna watch the ocean bend” (a line from her sea-longing “Ventura”), we’ll think of the far-from-home dolphins in nearby Discovery Bay. Likewise with “Lonely Girls” for the trumpeter swans, “World Without Tears” for the red pandas, and even “Fruits of My Labor” for the popsicle vendor camped outside the amphitheater. 13000 Zoo Blvd., Apple Valley; 612-604-4466; www.uptowntix.com

We waited all winter long, it seems, to hear the Olympic Hopefuls’ power-pop melodies outside on a sultry evening as the sun goes down. What better setting for serious booty-shaking when the all-stars sha-la-la through the infectious “Let’s Go”? On this occasion, they’ll play the open-air Ruin Courtyard at Mill City Museum, hard by the Stone Arch Bridge and Mississippi River. However enchanting the surroundings, though, we can’t help but wonder if the summer heat will tempt the troupe to peel off their tracksuits. Bring on the bun-huggers! 704 S. 2nd St., Minneapolis; 612-341-7555; www.millcitymuseum.org

John Hiatt’s sprawling catalog of recordings is chock-full of minor classics and overlooked gems. His latest

album, Master of Disaster, was recorded with the legendary producer Jim Dickinson at the equally legendary

Ardent Studios in Memphis (where Dickinson also produced Big Star’s Sister Lovers and the Replacements’

Pleased to Meet Me). As they did on Master of Disaster, Dickinson’s sons Cody and Luther—prodigious music

makers in their own right—will back Hiatt at the Zoo, and their own country blues band, North Mississippi

Allstars, will do an acoustic opening set. Hiatt is consistently engaging as a live performer, and between

the cozy setting and the music—which turns from intimate ballads to bar-rockin’ jams, and back— this has the

makings of a seriously sweaty affair. 13000 Zoo Blvd., Apple Valley; 952-431-9200

Those born too late to truly appreciate Carole King’s 1971 classic, Tapestry, might believe that her greatest contribution to pop culture was Really Rosie, the soundtrack for an animated show based on Maurice Sendak’s children’s stories. Catchy numbers like “Pierre,” the cautionary tale about a snotty boy who was eaten by a lion, and “The Ballad of Chicken Soup With Rice” kept us sitting too close to the TV all those years when they were slipped into the Electric Company and Schoolhouse Rock mix. But the truth is, King’s songwriting career goes back forty-plus years; recently she’s collaborated with Semisonic’s Dan Wilson, a songwriter whose impulse for sweet and bouncy pop suggests that he, too, may have spent some time sitting too close to the television. Her new album, The Living Room Tour, comprises two CDs’ worth of recordings from last year’s tour, which she is said to have enjoyed so much that she’s hitting the road again this summer. 612-339-7007; www.hennepintheatredistrict.com

Is this a misprint? Nope. The Suburbs’ Chan Poling, Semisonic’s John Munson, and Steve Roehm (“Your Neighborhood Trio”) are indeed playing American songbook standards on the chill stage at the Dakota. A little Rodgers & Hammerstein, a little “Love is the Law”—it’s a surprisingly sweet blend in the hands of these accomplished local rock gods (the act has been a sensation at St. Paul’s French Press Jazz Café). Maybe we should blame Happy Apple for showing everyone that jazz is the truly freeing sonic art form, or maybe the aging rockers around here are just turning into swinging gents. Either way, we’re feeling the love for these guys, who keep making it interesting to play and see music in this town. 1010 Nicollet Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-332-1010; www.dakotacooks.com ?