Category: Blog Post

  • The Best Place to Hide A Wine Bar

    If you really wanted to hide a sophisticated little wine bar
    where nobody would find it, where would you put it? Eden Prairie? Hilltop?

    How about, in the back room The Newsroom on the
    Nicollet Mall?

    You could easily walk into The Newsroom., a high-decibel
    newspaper-themed restaurant plastered with newspaper headlines and packed with
    video monitors,  spend the evening
    dining on deep-fried Brie curds, chicken Caesar salad and coconut shrimp, and
    never have an inkling that  there’s a terrific
    little wine bar called Taste in the back, with a completely different
    menu and wine selection. You could even search the Newsroom web site and not
    find a single mention of it. And if you came on a Monday or Tuesday, all you
    would find is a darkened room.

    On a Wednesday night when we visited, there was one lonely
    soul at the bar, and nobody in the little mezzanine hideaway where we settled
    in on a couch. Is it always this empty, I asked our server. Yes, she said.
    Nobody knows about it. We could have canoodled all evening with anyone – except
    our server – intruding on our privacy.

    The list of wines by the glass – actually small carafes –
    includes a few familiar names: a J. Lohr Chardonnay ($13.50/$25), a Rodney
    Strong Cabernet ($14/$26), but most are more obscure: a Quinto dos Grillos from
    Portugal ($13.50/$25), a Salneval Albarino ($11/$20) from Spain, a really
    delightful Ruche di Castagnole from Italy, (imported by Bonny Doon, ($8.75/
    $15.50). The prices seem a bit high, until you notice the size: the smaller pour
    is eight ounces, and the larger is 16 ounces – the equivalent of three glasses
    at most places.

    The menu is built around tastes -bite-sized portions of
    cheeses, hot and cold appetizers and sweets priced from $1.95 to $3.95 The
    cheeses ($1.95-$2.25) are well-chosen – a nicely ripened wedge of Humboldt Fog
    goat cheese, a creamy blue Fourme D’Ambert, an Italian truffled goat cheese and
    several more. The only big blunder is the bread, ($1.95 for a quarter baguette,
    $3.50 for a half) with no crust, and the soft, cottony texture that comes from
    being stored in plastic. 

    The cold starters run the gamut from a tuna ceviche, (four
    tasting spoons for $3.95), coarsely chopped chunks marinated in a habanero
    cilantro vinaigrette to a beet salad with micro greens and a sherry Roquefort
    dressing ($2.55), while the hot starters range from asparagus risotto croquettes with grilled tomato sauce ($2.65)  to a sake-infused
    scallop served with green tea soba noodles ($2.95). Some items were memorable (like the pear carpaccio with blue cheese crisp ($2.95), and others were not – like the cross-cut
    coriander cumin fries with a gorgonzola cream sauce ($3.95), but the pricing is very reasonable and the overall batting average is pretty high. Weekdays, the happy hour specials (offered till 6:30), include a featured wine and a selection of draft beers for $3 a glass, plus mini-sandwicbes and appetizers for $2-4. 

    We passed on the desserts, but the options include a
    chocolate wafer with chai ice cream, blueberry blini with lemon crème fraiche,
    and a blue cheese and port mousse with pear (all $2.95).

    Taste Wine Bar, in The Newsroom, 990 Nicollet Mall, Minneapolis, 612-343-0073.

  • The Three Pointer: Redemption Song

    Game # 25, Home Game #13: Indiana 118, Minnesota 131

    Season record: 4-21

    I usually condense two weekend games into a single trey, but tonight’s victory over Indiana was sufficiently exciting and worthy of individual comment that I’ve decided to file this now and let you folks add comments to this and tomorrow night’s road game against New Orleans. I’ll return for a trey after the Golden State game on Wednesday night. Until then, Happy Holidays, and hoops, to all.

    1. The Iron Man

    "When you’re having fun on an NBA floor there is nothing better in the world," said Sebastian Telfair after he played all 48 minutes of the second-highest scoring game in Timberwolves history. Amen to that, Bassy, for you are the MVP of the best three quarters this squad has played in over a year, perhaps two. And the shocking transformation Telfair has made from handy punchline to hardy point guard is complete. He’ll have bad games, maybe even a bunch of them, but now it should be regarded as a slump rather than confirmation of his eventual ticket to Europe and the entree to moralistic fables about NY playground kids not making the NBA leap.

    For weeks now, Telfair has been accruing evidence against initially heavy odds that he belongs in this league, as a credible backup if not a starter. His 780 minutes are second most on the squad behind Jefferson. He’s averaging 10.3 ppg on 42.5% shooting–hardly great, but not awful, and better to the eye than on paper–and boasts a 2.8-to-1 assist-to-turnover ratio, Tonight he seized the opportunity the Pacers provided him. As coach Randy Wittman said after the game, "We knew [Indiana] would trap outside and if he got by the big men on the high pick and roll he could get what he wanted."

    Simple enough, until you realize that the key to Minnesota’s 40-point second quarter was relying on a point guard who didn’t go to college and is only nine months older than Corey Brewer having the sense to recognize the looming trap and then the sinew and quickness to thread through it and finish at the hoop. Coming into the quarter down a whopping 20 points, 20-40, Telfair stuck a 16-footer and drove for a layup in the first 75 seconds. A minute later, when Indiana changed up the trap, he fed to Antoine Walker for a trey. Then a flurry; three driving layups in three minutes time and that huge deficit had been halved and then some with more than six minutes to play in the period. When the quarter was over, the entire Indiana team had scored 15 points and dished out 4 assists, while Telfair registered a dozen (5-6 FG 2-2 FT) and issued 4 assists himself, three of them treys by Walker plus a jumper by Corey Brewer. Put simply, Bassy was responsible for 26 points in the second quarter and the Wolves, after being absolutely flattened in the first quarter, yielding 11 baskets on Indiana’s first 12 shots, miraculously had a 5-point lead at the break.

    Three things in particular stand out about Telfair this game. One is his synergy with Corey Brewer, a staple this entire season. Brewer and Bassy are very similar in many respects; both put great pace into the game, fueled by a natural desire to keep going until deterred. Both try to leaven their suspect shooting with smart and quick passing; rarely do you see either one of them simply dribble and survey the floor. And both play all 94 feet on defense, knowing they must rely on speed and guile instead of brawn, looking for poke-check steals, scrambling to stay in front of their man as long and often as possible, and willing to expend the energy rather than concede the layup on a Timberwolves turnover.

    The second is Telfair’s toughness. Tonight he went way up against one of the Pacer’s bigs, trying to keep a high rebound afloat, only to bend back a tad too far in his effort and be slightly undercut enough to land on his rear and back–just as Pacer center Jeff Foster was heading up court to trample him with one calf while kicking him in the head with the other. This was the second quarter of a game in which Telfair never sat. According to Wittman after the game, he probably won’t sit tomorrow night versus Chris Paul and the Hornets on the tail end of a back to back. But while his second half numbers indicated some fatigue tonight–he had 11 points, 4 assists and a turnover after going 16-7-0 in the first half–he expended his emergency fuel where it mattered most, continuing to play staunch defense on Jamaal Tinsley, who shot just 3-10 FG and finished with 8 points and 10 assists after coming into the game averaging 14.8 and 8.7, respectively.

    Finally, one of Telfair’s four second period layups, perhaps the last one, was a dribble-drive through three defenders culminating in a hand-switch of the ball while he was in mid air, and a left-haned banker. It had echoes of the playground and Jordan about it; the kind of shot you only attempt, let alone make, if you’re clueless and desperate or in a groove and very, very confident. When asked by Myles Brown of slamonline.com after the game if this was his best game of the season, Telfair replied, "absolutely." Brown followed up by inquiring what the difference was between the Telfair of two years ago and the one today, Bassy shrugged, squinted for a couple of beats, and then said simply, "Confidence."

    2. The Leader

    The flu bug nailed Rashad McCants as well as Marko Jaric, who both stayed away from the arena tonight. Buckner, Foye and Ratliff are hurt. So is Antoine Walker, but not enough not to heed the call and slap some tape on his aching ankle. Yup, less than a day after telling the Strib that he’d tried to come back too soon earlier this season and was going to let the ankle heal this time, ‘Toine suited up, then buried the Pacers for 23 points in 24:58 en route to a game-best plus +21.

    Remember that high pick and roll Wittman was describing? Well, if the Pacers chose to defend Telfair’s drives, Walker was waiting out beyond the arc. He sank a half-dozen of them in 10 attempts, forming an inside-outside attack that turned the game for the Wolves after that brutal first quarter.

    But it was more than the points, or the solid defense Walker played on ersatz star Jermaine O’Neal. (A not-so-brief detour here to rip O’Neal. Those of us spoiled by years of watching Kevin Garnett never take a night off got a taste of what it looks like when a perennial all-star attitudinally lies down like a dog. Even on two good ankles, Walker has no business negating O’Neal in the low block. JO’s game was epitomized by a play in the fourth quarter where O’Neal was content to watch a long rebound from Al Jefferson’s missed shot go out of bounds. Except that Jefferson hustled over and grabbed it by the sideline, then spun into the lane and dropped a layup over O’Neal. "I think we got him frustrated," Wittman said after the game. That’s charitably diplomatic. O’Neal finished with 8 points on 3-11 shooting and 5 rebounds in 33:59 (he did add 6 assists), plus a minus -18 in a 13-point loss. By contrast, Jefferson had 29 points and 13 rebounds (2 assists) in 33:18. It was a pathetic display by Indiana’s most talented player, who looks to be engaging in a "work slowdown" in an effort to be traded.) No, along with accurate treys and dogged defense, Walker once again demonstrated how a wizened vet with little to gain on a terrible team can exercise the kind of leadership simultaneously designed to brighten the moment and enhance the future.

    For one thing, ‘Toine broke out the shimmy, that little end zone dance transferred to the hardwood that once punctuated particularly meaningful ‘Toine treys on a fairly regular basis. When Walker was in his prime, that shimmy felt arrogant, self-aggrandizing and stupidly provocative, a red flag to the other team. Tonight, in a game where the Wolves had just encountered a first quarter beatdown, had seen their star, Al Jefferson repair to the dressing room for stitches after being elbowed in the mouth, and had been called out the previous
    game by their coach for not having the gumption to respond to a challenge, ‘Toine’s first official shimmy in a Wolves uniform was perfectly timed to announce that the cavalry was here. It announced that not only weren’t the Wolves going to meekly slink away or choke after a lead had been established, but they were going to revel in their temporal greatness and stand confident in their ability to withstand the blowback. If the Wolves lose that game, as they had lost so many others, ‘Toine looks like a fool. But 59 seconds after the Wolves had come all the way back to finally tie it at 52, Walker nailed a trey to boost the lead to 5, at 57-52, with 45 seconds left in the half, and then took that chance, esentially announcing to his team–"I got your back, let’s have some fun and send a message that we plan on keeping this lead."

    Then there is the strong mentorship that Walker is exercising with Gerald Green. Many times during televised road games the camera would catch Walker, waylaid in street clothes with his ankle injury, leaning over talking to Green at GG’s customary spot at the end of the bench. Over the weeks it has become apparent that Walker talks to Green a lot. Tonight it was obvious that Green appreciates the attention and looks to ‘Toine for support and direction.

    With both McCants and Jaric felled by flu, Green was the first player off the bench as the first quarter carnage was wrought, with Walker joining him on the court about a minute and a half later. Now I’ve pretty much done nothing but rip GG whenever I’ve raised his name thus far this season, so let me say that whatever influence Walker had on Green tonight, it was still Green who looked to pass instead of shoot for almost his entire first stint on the floor. It was Green who fought through the brief panics about not knowing who to guard and eventually landed his assignment, usually in time enough not to burn the Wolves. And it was Green who slowly but steadily built from square one, gaining the confidence to do more than the most rudimentary team activity on offense and defense, finishing with 12 points, 4 rebounds and 5 assists in 16 minutes, his best game of the season thus far.

    But having Walker around certainly didn’t hurt. ‘Toine was talking a lot to GG, and shepherding him occasionally on defense. After one  timeout, Walker gathered his teammates together as they took the floor and was talking animatedly in a semi-circle with them before play resumed. On the next two defensive possessions, Green was yelling out switches and impending picks, clearly communicating–the first time I’ve seen him do that this year. What’s more, Walker rewarded Green’s initial ball movement by canning a feed from GG for a trey at the end of the first quarter and again within the first three minutes of the second (remarkably enough, at that point I’m not sure Green had taken a single shot).

    In the third quarter, Wittman countered Indiana’s zone by bringing Green and Walker in together with 7:10 to play in the period and the Wolves up five. Green immediately went off, nailing a trey and a 20-footer in between two assists to Jefferson, one a beautifully executed pick and roll. Walker and his other teammates kept stoking him and for the first time all year, Green began to play both naturally and intelligently, with the right rotations and shot selection. With a little more than four minutes to play in the quarter, Walker threw a football pass to a streaking Green, who was fouled on the layup attempt. As the crowd cheered, Walker extended his arm to the sky and held up his index finger in celebration. At the other end of the court, Green spotted him and extended his arm and index finger. Then he hit both free throws, bumping the Wolves’ lead to 16.

    After the game, a buoyant Telfair said that he and his teammates had been asking for a shimmy out of Walker. "He said if he hit a couple of shots tonight he might do one," Telfair claimed, then later added, "He was a huge factor in this win. And he’s really helping us in the locker room."

    3. The Gambler

    In the last trey, I highlighted the fact that Coach Randy Wittman had called out his team after the Golden State loss, strongly implying that his players lacked the confidence, bravery and competitive spirit to rebuff an opponent’s challenge and then rebound with a run of their own. Noting that some players were injured, I said a coach can’t use that kind of language too frequently, and questioned the timing.

    I still think it was a gamble, that, if the Wolves had gone into the tank, would have further jeopardized Witt’s effectiveness this season. But that was a chance the coach was not only willing to take, but obviously felt like he had to put out there, and tonight he was proven to be right and effective in his tactics. In fact, it is almost as if he wrote the storybook. After the Golden State loss, Witt repeated the contention that when an opponent hits the Wolves, they have to absorb the blow and fight back. Earlier this season, but not earlier this week, he had said when a team hits you in the mouth you have to fight back. Well, tonight the Wolves were not only missing Jaric but their premiere outside threat, McCants. What’s more, their best player, Jefferson, literally got hit in the mouth at a time when the Wolves had already allowed 12 assists and generated only one turnover while allowing the Pacers to shoot 75% (15-20 FG) in the first quarter. And the Wolves did exactly what Wittman had dared them to do, and mocked and belittled them for not doing; they essentially said "enough is enough" and overcame a 20-point deficit with renewed effort and determination and sheer toughness.

    After expressing how proud he was of his team, Wittman also took the opportunity to call out the Strib for suggesting, in a front page story today, that the current Wolves team might rank among the worst ever in the NBA in terms of wins and losses at the end of the season. After enduring so much criticism in recent days–from present company included–the coach probably felt justified in doling a little of it back. "These kids, they’ve got feelings too…We are all human beings and that hurt," Wittman said to beat writer Jerry Zgoda, who wrote the piece.

    Yet whatever tension might have existed necessarily dissipated in the wake of such a convincing, and unlikely, of course, victory. After a few good natured comments, Wittman concluded his postgame comments with a simple, "Merry Christmas, you guys."

    And to all a good night.

  • Men: Great Hearts, Weak Noses

    I had dinner with Robert Bly last week. Now you may think the biggest perks of my job involve food and wine and freebies but it’s not true. The best thing is meeting people like Bly and being able to ask anything I want.

    And here’s what I wanted to know: What’s up with men?

    I was sitting in a booth at Cue, drinking a glass of M. Chapoutier Côtes du Rhône, which you may know by now is one of my favorite affordable wines. I also like that Chapoutier is one of only two winemakers in the world who puts a braille label on all of his bottles because, he says, wine selection shouldn’t be limited by people’s ability to see.

    Bly was sipping a Bombay Sapphire martini while eating roasted ringneck pheasant. And we were discussing Peer Gynt, the 1867 Norwegian play about a hapless, self-absorbed young man, which Bly had — just hours before — finished adapting so that it contains, for the first time in history, Ibsen’s original rhyme scheme in English.

    "This is a great play about a wild young man," Bly told me. "Gynt is loved by women but hardly knows his own father. And the play asks what happens to such a man?"

    This, of course, is a perennial theme of Bly’s as well. In addition to being an internationally-recognized poet and translator, he wrote Iron John: A Book About Men and helped found the Mythopoetic Men’s Movement, a 1990’s-era self-help method for men that involved storytelling, new age shamanism, forest gatherings and drums. Yes, it sounds like voodoo.

    But ask Bly about the rites, as I did that night, and his explanation is clear: "We were just pleased to be with other men who weren’t brutal or cruel," he told me. "The men who came weren’t angry with women, they loved women. If anything, they were angry at their fathers." The one thing his followers shared was a hunger to be recognized by older men. "The question they were asking," Bly said, "was, Am I worthwhile as a man? That’s all they needed to know."

    It happens, coincidentally, that I have for several months been reading books by men: those muscular, intelligent but addled, sex-fueled American types ranging from Saul Bellow to Richard Ford. Currently, I’m in the middle of Richard Russo’s Bridge of Sighs, a novel as uneven as a hastily-gathered deck of cards, but one that I nevertheless like.

    It’s about a man named Lucy. (You can imagine, I’m sure, why he needs assurance that he is worthwhile.) As a child, Lucy is accosted by a bunch of older boys and locked in a trunk down near the blood-red Cayoga River. Terrified, he passes out and awakens hours later to the sounds of a couple having sex on the ground at his side. (Why they didn’t wonder about a trunk on a riverbank, I cannot say. . . .this is one of the ragged elements of the book.) The woman hears him shifting and throws open the lid of the trunk — naked from the waist up, of course — thus freeing the boy who gets out, walks home along the river, and finds his father waiting for him on the bridge by their house.

    It cannot be coincidence that there is everything in this scene that Bly described: the brutality of boys and the joy at seeing a bare-chested woman and the desire only to be gathered up by his father and safely transported home. It is, I’m beginning to see, a ubiquitous and rather winsome theme in men’s literature and lives — this need to be comforted, to be carried, to be loved.

    I’m a big fan of men: wife to one and ex-wife (still good friend) to another, as well as the mother of two nearly-grown sons. I can speak to the softness that exists in all of them, the hunger, as Bly put it.

    So I found myself wondering one day about men and wine. There is a strange, swooning, wide-eyed fever that men bring to their drinking. The same one, it seems to me, they bring to most everything else, be it war or stamp collecting or golf. And maybe it is the reason that most of the world’s winemakers and tasters and raters and vendors even today are men, though women have been proven, scientifically, to have a far more acute sense of smell. Biologically speaking, Robert Parker should be a woman in her 30’s, not a 60-year-old guy with an outdated JD.

    As a woman wine writer, I can hardly claim prejudice. After all, you’re reading me. But I’ve been examining these men and their stories, thinking about what I can take from them — Bly and his moonlit drum beating, Russo and his childhood fear and fantasy, Chapoutier and his gallant but quixotic mission to make wine buying easier for the blind. Then there’s the man I met the other day.

    I was at Costco, where I’d gone to buy a case of the Chapoutier Cotes du Rhone for a party. Why would I battle the traffic and noise and hotdog stink of that hellhole? Because here the Chapoutier sells for $8.59 a bottle rather than $12. This fact — and a Xanax — were enough to get me through the horror of a Christmas shopping throng. Only then, there was no wine! Luckily, I found a man in a red apron who lifted another case off a high shelf.

    Selling wine was his hobby, the man told me. And he wasn’t just a fan of the wine I was buying, he was avid, recommending it to everyone he knew. As I was checking out, he came running over to hand me a sheaf of background materials. I mentioned that I was a writer, told him my name, and said I might post the information. . . .then felt ill and called it an early night. He called the Rake first thing the next morning and demanded to know where my new column was, leaving his number so we could alert him the moment it went up.

    I’m not complaining. In fact, I think if there’s something we women can learn from men, it’s to indulge in a little reckless enthusiasm and genuine need. Men in the woods, telling each other fairytales and beating drums. It kind of makes sense.

  • Andy Cilek Thinks You’re an Idiot

    Last year, instant runoff voting
    was approved by an overwhelming majority of Minneapolis residents. 65
    percent of voters, to be exact. Given that it’s difficult to find
    65 percent of people to agree with something as uncontroversial as whether
    Britney Spears’ contributions to the gene pool violate environmental
    protection statutes and constitute illegal dumping, a 65 percent mandate
    seems fairly miraculous – and all the more unassailable for its unique
    nature in today’s partisan atmosphere. So why is Andy Cilek and his
    Minnesota Voters Alliance suing the city to prevent the new system from
    starting? Especially when Minneapolis residents seem fairly convinced
    the new system will help third party candidates, increase election turnouts,
    and generally make the world a better place, complete with smiling,
    magical, winged unicorns cavorting in the streets with adorably fuzzy
    animals and martini making robots in every household.

    To answer the question of why
    a "non-partisan" killjoy is looking to piss all over a rare bipartisan
    voter mandate that somehow didn’t bring the Earth’s rotation to
    a world-ending halt, we need to start off by defining instant runoff
    voting. Keep in mind however, that there is no hope of understanding
    a system obviously designed by the Elder Gods – a system created with
    impossible angles never meant to be understood by the base animal that
    is man. In fact, the poor unenlightened masses Mr. Cilek and his ilk
    are so desperately trying to protect were clearly hopped up on special K and were offered special service
    packages
    in return
    for their vote when they stopped off at polling places last year. That’s
    the only explanation for the measure’s passage. But despite this fundamentally
    unknowable nature of this concept, the effort must be made.

    Instant runoff voting, at its
    most base level, involves ranking candidates on a ballot in order of
    preference so that, in the event no one receives a clear majority, the
    candidate receiving the fewest "number one" votes is dropped from
    the ballot and everyone who gave those "number one" votes has their
    "number two" votes applied – and on down the line until someone
    receives a majority of the votes. Fairly simple and straightforward,
    no? So why does Mr. Cilek think Minneapolis residents are too addlepated,
    inbred, and generally too fucking dumb to understand the process?

    In fact, to help illustrate
    just how close the average Minneapolis resident’s mental capacity
    is to that of Jessica Simpson, the Minnesota Voters Alliance engaged
    in a highly scientific survey to demonstrate that Minneapolis voters
    didn’t even understand what they were voting for last year and just
    filled in the pretty circle on the ballot. Mr. Cilek’s flunkies talked
    to "about 300 people" and found less than three voters who could
    explain the instant runoff system. Of course, it’s entirely possibly
    the survey was taken at a Sigma Chi fraternity party on the U campus
    (keg stands are really an underutilized opportunity to take the pulse
    of the community), or while canvassing the city’s finer gentlemen’s
    clubs (I’ve heard the dancers at Sinners are particularly well informed, though
    the ones at Schiek’s have fascinating opinions on farm subsidies)
    – but we may never know, since there’s no published methodology,
    or even official results. We’re just expected to take the Alliance’s
    word for it – non-partisan political organizations being so credible
    these days. Plus, to put it bluntly – I have no damn clue exactly
    how my TV works, but I manage to tune in to Robot Chicken just fine. And I’ve got news for
    you…Seth Green is a
    fucked up little man
    .

    Of course, the stultifying
    idiocy endemic to Minneapolis isn’t the only reason the Alliance opposes
    instant runoff voting. It’s unconstitutional and disenfranchises voters!
    I’m not a constitutional scholar, or even a Talmudic one, but I can’t
    really see how a system used by all sorts of countries that have managed
    to figure out the whole affordable health care thing, and even a few
    states right here in the good ol’ U.S. of A. that don’t seem to
    feel that it violates the whole "one person, one vote" concept.
    And as for disenfranchising people? I, and most other political analysts,
    fail to see how giving people the opportunity to vote for the candidate
    that best matches their ideology, be it Republican, Democrat, or cannibalistic
    anarcho-syndicalist, without feeling as if they’ll be wasting their
    vote. So Mr. Cilek response is to use his angry monkey style– that is, throwing a whole bunch
    of shit against the wall in the hopes that some of it sticks. This is
    not to be confused with tiger style, crane style, or the ever popular doggy style.

  • Home for the Holidays

    Well, for starters, be sure to peruse our January issue. We had ourselves some fun with this one, so … enjoy.

    We’ve also had some teriffic online exclusives lately. If you haven’t already done so, be sure to check out John Ervin’s "Higher Than Fi" and Ann Bauer’s "Scientology: The Local Source" and "Keeping the Faith" — actually, Ann has had some fabulous blog posts as well, so don’t miss out on those. And if you haven’t checked out our new guest blog, Just Passing Through, be sure to do so. Rich Goldsmith is wrapping up this week, and we’ll have some great urban images from Taylor Carik next week.

    Now… assuming you’re not going to spend all weekend reading The Rake website…

    FESTIVAL
    Drumming and Dancing and Fire, Oh My!

    What better excuse is there to play with fire then to celebrate the winter solstice on the darkest day of the year? Join the Cedar Cultural Center’s celebration of this Pagan holiday with a drumming, dancing, fiery jam. Come at 6:30 p.m. and learn how to juggle with Mr. Fun from Mystik Toyz. The fire dancing begins at 8 p.m. — complete with batons, poi, devil sticks fire juggling, and fire fingers, fans and wand numbers. Many local drumming guests will be led by world percussionist Robin "Adnan" Anders and his group Boiled to Lead. If you’ve been in the Twin Cities any time during the past twenty years, you’ll have heard of them. —Kate McDonald

    Friday at 6:30 p.m. Cedar Cultural Center, 416 Cedar Ave. S. Minneapolis; 612-338-2674; $10, children free.

    DANCE
    Crying Babies All the Way! This Ain’t No Regular Ballet!

    Crying babies and restless toddlers are welcome and wanted at a special performance of the James Sewell Company’s ballet Amahl and the Night Visitors.
    This child-friendly performance on Saturday morning will be short, and
    the lights will remain on. Dubbed “First Chance Dance,” the experience
    is meant for the youngest of ballet enthusiasts and includes a pre-show
    in the lobby with live model dioramas that will show scenes of
    multi-culture giving traditions. —Kate McDonald

    Saturday at 11 a.m., The O’Shaughnessy at the College of St. Catherine, 2004 Randolph Ave., St. Paul; 651-690-6700; $10.


    MUSIC
    Heiruspecs for Homegrown Hip-Hop

    Gotta love the homegrown hip-hop. It’s hard to believe that Heiruspecs has been around long enough for a ten-year anniversary show and subsequent album release concert, but this group has been a favorite on the local scene since their early beginnings at Central High School, in St. Paul. Their show on Saturday will also feature performance by Power Struggle & The Show Is The Rainbow. —Kate McDonald

    Saturday at 5 p.m., The Turf Club, 1601 University Ave., St. Paul; 651-647-0486; $10. —Kate McDonald

    Matthew Santos Comes Home

    I get a lot of emails and PR kits for upcoming events now. That’s no surprise. Still, I try to pick the most promising events, regardless of how hard I have to dig for them. Sometimes, though.. sometimes… a PR person leaves an impression. I’m not saying this show isn’t promising — quite the opposite, in fact — but I just have to send some kudos out to this incredible woman whose enthusiasm and obvious commitment to the band became contagious. So, let’s welcome home another Minneapolis native. Matthew Santos is playing this weekend at the Fine Line, and this is no small potatoes. While Santos is best known for his collaborations with other well-known (and even Grammy-nominated) musicians, this weekend’s gig will be a solo performance, so we can fully appreciate the real deal. (See the full line-up here.)

    9 p.m., Fine Line Music Cafe, 318 1st Ave N, Minneapolis, 612-338-8100; $7.

    COMEDY
    The Comics Come Crawlin’ Home

    Comics who have abandoned Minnesota for the more humorous-centric states of our nation are coming home for the holidays, and Bryant Lake Bowl is reaping the benefits this Sunday. Their annual show will feature Casey Feigh, Matthew Sullivan, Lizzy Cooperman, Maggie Faris, Andy Ritchie, Johnny Pemberton and Hugh Moore — proving that they remember their Minnesota-nice roots enough to put on a hometown show even after they have hit the big time.

    Sunday at 7 & 9:30 p.m., Bryant Lake Bowl, 810 W. Lake St., Minneapolis; 612-825-8949; $20.

  • Talk Radio for Women

    So what do you get when you take a huge risk on launching a female-oriented FM talk radio station back in June of 2002?

    You get blackjack!!!!!!

    When Todd Fisher first told me that Hubbard Broadcasting was going to launch a new talk-radio format…. I was elated! Finally, a well-respected family-owned business was going to put their money into a venture ridiculed by so many people in the world of broadcasting. Guess who’s laughing now… I hope the Hubbard Family!

    If this company went public I would invest in a heartbeat!!!!

    Well, it’s almost 2008, and I, for one, want to say "Congratulations" to anyone out there that followed a dream despite skepticism from advertisers and derision from program directors.

    Let’s start with Lori and Julia, who are not only sisters-in-law but also business partners in a company called Body Perks, whose nipple enhancers have been worn by Samantha on Sex in the City.

    To purchase Bodyperks go here. Do not go out and buy knock-offs of these little jewels, because Lori and Julia deserve to reap the financial rewards of THEIR invention!

    So, these two sisters-in-law pitch a show to Ginny Morris, and — with the help of Donny Michaels (who looks great working with a mostly female staff) — the LoJo Show has become a hit.

    Why? Well, although Lori and Julia are not trained radio personalities, they are two strong woman that are not afraid to share their opinions on everything from sex to politics. I have watched Julia transform from an overalls girl (she was wearing overalls the first day I met her) to a Hot Mama, and Lori, who was a successful corporate executive with Carlson Travels, became another Hot Mama that has been told she looks like Sharon Stone.

    Donny? Well, you would think he would have a few more wrinkles from working with these two crazy gals, but instead he has turned into a metro-sexual dad who looks great in Pink!!!!!

    So, why is FM 107.1 so successful? Here is my opinion, as someone who has spent years in radio:

    When you have a line up like this… how can you go wrong?!

    Ian and Margery — 5:00-9:00 A.M.
    This real-life married couple — who are actually married in real life — always have something fun to say about each other, as if they were newlyweds.

    The Kevyn Burger Show
    — 9:00-11:00 A.M.
    Kevyn is a self proclaimed cheapskate that has recently braved her Breast Cancer Diagnosis with humor and courage. Kevyn could have pulled the sheets over her head and battled this fight privately, but instead she dealt with it head on and has found a loving husband to support her through everything.

    The Colleen Kruse Show — 11:00 A.M.-1:00 P.M.
    Rake columnist Colleen Kruse started out working with the multi-talented Andrew Zimmern, but has gone on to prove that it’s not just her great taste in shoes bringing her success — it’s her mindful stories on being a super-hip Mom with moxie.

    The Stephanie Hansen Show — 1:00-3:00 P.M.
    I worked with Stephanie years ago, when I was on the KS95 morning show and Stephanie worked in sales. I always thought this woman was too opinionated and sarcastic to be in sales. She needed her own show, and by gosh she now has it!!!

    Lori and Julia — 3:00-6:00 P.M.
    I have no doubt the LoJo show will go into syndication, because Lori and Julia are not afraid to put themselves on the line, be self-deprecating, and most important, have the confidence and gift for gab that it takes to pull off a national radio show! Lori and Julia also have regularly name specific stores, items, and movies they like, and — much to the delight of the sales department — their recommendations have so much clout that it’s not unusual for a store to sell out of an item that has earned the LOJO stamp of approval.

    Now, I don’t have the time to spotlight all of the FM 107 shows, but I do want to highlight a few more radio personalities with whom I have been lucky to work:

    Colleen Lindstrom — who filled in for two weeks as a producer for Lino Rulli and I with a big smile and a bucket full of sunshine, even at 4:30 A.M. Colleen is now a part of the Get Real Girls Show, which airs from 8:00-10:00 AM on Saturday mornings.

    Joan Steffend and Liv Lane — who also contribute their opinions on everything from marriage and raising kids to decorating tips. Liv is also married to my producer, Brad Lane. My husband and I have purchased several pieces of furniture from Joan’s sales, therefore I am a bit prejudice. 🙂

    Alexis Walsko and Allison Kaplan — from Shop Girls, which airs from 10:00-noon on Saturdays. Both of these woman know the best places in town to shop, and I have to give a shout out to Alexis, who not only looks like a young Marilyn Monroe, but is a blast to party with.

    Last but not least, Jason Mathison, from FOX 9, is now going to have a show on FM 107. Not only does Jason do the best impression of Jack from Will and Grace, he is a fantastic entertainment reporter, who… unlike most people who cover entertainment… is the real deal with a heart of diamonds and gold!!

    Now you have my take on why FM 107 has no where to go but up up and away, and I want to wish a sincere congratulations to the shows I have been able to hear and enjoy and the shows that I look forward to hearing and enjoying.

    For more information go to FM107.1 — Living Life Out Loud.

  • Where to Dine on New Year's Eve – Part I

    Monday night is cheap date night at the Bryant Lake Bowl
    two soups or salads, two entrees, a bottle of wine, and two lines of bowling
    for $28. And since New Years Eve happens to fall on a Monday, they are offering
    a Not So Cheap Date Night – the same deal for $32, but with better than usual
    entrees and wine, and tablecloths on the table. They don’t take reservations
    for dinner, but you can guarantee yourself a seat if you reserve tickets for
    the Scrimshaw New Years Eve Spectacular, performed at 7 and 10:30 at the BLB
    Theater. The show, by perennial Fringe Festival favorites the Scrimshaw
    Brothers
    , is billed as "comedy,
    music, dance, special surprise guests, and more broken resolutions than you can
    shake a Scrimshaw at!" The full BLB menu is available in the theater.
    There are some risks attached to sitting in the dark in a theater full of
    people who are eating and laughing at the same time, but heck, New Years Eve is
    the night to live on the edge. Showtimes are 7 p.m. and 10:30 p.m., and tickets
    are $20, or $15 with a Fringe Festival button. You can reserve tickets online by going to the BLB website, or by calling 612-825-8949.

    Bryant Lake Bowl, 810 W. Lake St., Minneapolis, 612-825-3737.

    At BLB’s sister restaurant, Barbette, new executive chef
    Sarah Master is raising the gastronomic level a notch or two with a selection
    of a la carte New Years Eve specials such as bison carpaccio with arugela and shaved pecorino ($9), red deer with cherry-vanilla demi-glace, glazed vegetables
    and mustard spaetzle ($27), and
    butter-poached lobster with asparagus, tarragon potato cakes and caviar crème
    fraiche ($35).

    Barbette, 1600 W. Lake St., Minneapolis, 612-827-5710.

    The very romantic Grand Café is offering a six-course prix
    fixe menu for $65, and a modified version for vegetarians for $10 less. The
    structure of the menus is the same, but the vegetarian agnolotti are stuffed
    with celeriac, while the carnivores get foie gras; the seafood course of diver
    scallops with lobster sauce is replaced by polenta with sweet carrot sauce, and
    while the meat eaters get with a potato and cepe pave, the vegetarians get the
    potato and cepe pave without accompanying animal flesh.

    Grand Cafe Minneapolis, 3804 Grand Ave. S., Minneapolis, 612-822-8260.

    Creating a menu that combines the spirit of a Northeast
    tavern with the structure of a five-course $65 French prix fixe menu isn’t easy, but the chef
    at the Sample Room has risen to the challenge: the first course offers choices
    such as country pate en croute with Cumberland sauce, (in lieu of meatloaf),
    and performing the role of bratwurst, a house-made maple chicken sausage.
    Entrees choices include a beef tenderloin, chicken breast stuffed with
    prosciutto, and striped sea bass with sautéed spinach and walnut butter sauce,
    but also a tavern classic – roast breast of turkey with brown gravy and butternut
    squash puree.

    The Sample Room, 2124 Marshall St. N.E., Minneapolis, 612-789-0333.

  • One Curmudgeon's Opinion: The Ten Best Films of 2007

    Ah, year’s end: the time to reflect on the bounty that was the 2007 movie year. There were many truly great films, one that I would actually call a classic, scores of excellent documentaries, and even a bunch of major studio flicks that are actually worth watching and only missed this collection by a hair (I’m thinking Sweeney Todd and Juno–which was the fruit of a major studio).

    Sadly, the Oscars are going to ignore some of the best, and it’s becoming apparent that, for the third year in a row, the Academy is going to ignore the finest performance by a male lead for the third year in a row. In ’05 no one, in my mind, was better than Jeff Daniels in The Squid and The Whale: a brutally honest portrayal of a man falling apart in his career and his watching his sons desert him. In ’06, Toby Jones was Truman Capote in Infamous (showing us both the joy and the despair of being Truman). That film was utterly destroyed by the inferior Capote a year earlier. This year, Tommy Lee Jones was perfect in the deeply flawed In the Valley of Elah. His examination of a soldier coming to grips with the death of his son–and, in essence, his faith in his country and the military that ostensibly protects it–was simply magnificent. Since he didn’t even get a Golden Globe nomination, there’s not a junebug’s chance on a windshield that Jones’ll get any recognition.

    Sadly, this was also a year that saw some of the finer big-budget films fall to the wayside, as garbage like 300 and Wild Hogs raked in the dough over Grindhouse and Zodiac. But them’s the breaks, I suppose.

    Without further bloviating, here’s my favorite from the year:

    10. Grindhouse One of the battiest and most enjoyable three hours you could spend in a theater. Real grindhouse fare is only fun if you’re dead drunk or stoned, and even then it’s damned tedious. Directors Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino know this, and made a pair of crack films that stand up to repeated viewing. The fake trailers, fake blood, awesome car chases and sexy chicks made Grindhouse a barrel of fun. Why Miramax didn’t release this in the summer–and during the drive-in theater season–is beyond me.

    9. INLAND EMPIRE Yes, it is supposed to be in all-caps. David Lynch’s most bizarre film (and that’s saying a hell of a lot), INLAND EMPIRE bookends his masterpiece Mulholland Dr. as the most thorough and damning examination of the nightmare that is Hollywood, the devourer of dreams (and dreamers).

    8. My Kid Could Paint That Sad, beautiful, and the most thought-provoking documentary of the year. Amir Bar-Lev’s little film about four-year-old Marla Olmstead, who may or may not have painted giant abstract paintings that have sold for many hundreds of thousands of dollars. Some people walk away from My Kid Could Paint That convinced Marla painted these, more come away feeling like her parents are charlatans. But everyone comes away conflicted about the nature of modern art, child rearing, and their own complicity in Marla’s damaging fame. Watch it with your children for an even more complex experience.

    7. Brand Upon the Brain! Read my review here. A wonderful film. I doubt fifty people saw this thing when it was in town. Soon to arrive on DVD, but where?

    6. Killer of Sheep Shot in 1977 in the Watts district of Los Angeles, and suppressed for these thirty years because director Charles Burnett had never secured the rights of the songs in the film. Worth the wait: Killer of Sheep is an unsparing look at the vicissitudes of poverty, how adults try to maintain their dignity and children try to find joy in the midst of such despair. Utterly heartbreaking.

    5. The Lives of Others This tale of an East German Stasi officer who finally becomes a human being was made even more poignant with the death of its star, the great Ulrich Muhe, who died this last spring from stomach cancer. No doubt he was suffering when the film was being made. A wonderful movie about the power of art to wreck the calculating evil of the state.

    4. Great World of Sound This sweet, melancholy little comedy never made it to Minneapolis–it’s amazing that the damn thing ever saw the light of day. Less a comedy than a thorough and uncompromising look at the life of snake-oil salesmen: in this case, losers with the Great World of Sound company, a so-called recording studio whose one goal is to fleece aspiring musicians. The director, Craig Zobel, could have taken the easy route and made the myriad auditions of amateur singers into fodder for cheap laughs or American Idol parody. But no one in Great World of Sound gets off easily, though everyone–even the rip-off artists–emerge with their dignity intact. A fascinating movie, less funny than moving, and anchored with a wonderful performance by Kene Holliday. When this finally hits DVD, put it at the top of your NetFlix queue.

    3. There Will Be Blood (opens at the Uptown on January 4) As epic and weird as Moby-Dick, Paul Thomas Anderson’s There Will Be Blood is bound to be a big, fat flop, box-office wise. The story of an oil man who inherits a son, meets a mad evangelist, and, of course, strikes oil and sticks it to both the major corporations and, in a sense, God. The insane ending is making everyone fidget, the movie is long, uncomfortable, filled with disagreeable characters who look as if they’re going to rip one another’s heads off, and has a screeching soundtrack reminiscent of Stravinsky‘s most disturbing work. This is one strange masterpiece that will haunt you for days.

    2. Zodiac Sadly, no one knew quite what to do with this movie. Zodiac looked like another great serial-killer thriller from David Fincher, the guy who gave us Seven, and the studios tried their level best to market it as such. But it’s far from a bloody slasher: Zodiac is instead a movie about frustration, about paranoia, and its nearly three hours leave you exhausted. And that’s great. The story of the men–police officers, journalists, and even a political cartoonist–who tried desperately to catch California’s Zodiac killer, and lost their lives (figuratively) doing so. These men are obsessives, following one lousy lead after another, and the movie does the same. Fincher’s direction
    is perfect, as obsessed with detail as the detectives who must search every nook, cranny, and dust mote at the scene.

    1. Ratatouille In reviewing Evan Almighty, The Onion brought up an interesting point: "Historically, throwing money at a comedy has never made it funnier, because there’s nothing more cost-effective than a joke, and nothing more ruinous than a spectacle trampling all over it." However, I can think of two exceptions to that rule: The General, Buster Keaton’s Civil War comedy that used the spectacle of soldiers, cannons, and a train crashing into a river to great comic effect (and could not do without it). But in sending a real locomotive crashing into the drink, Keaton made The General the most expensive silent film of all time, and might have ended his career. Then there’s Ratatouille. Now, Ratatouille’s budget, well over a hundred million dollars, is not so much the result of spectacle, but the cost of labor. See, this isn’t the 1930s, and you can’t hire animators to make a cartoon that’s as good or better than Snow White and Pinocchio and pay them in pennies, dirt, and empty promises the way Uncle Walt used to.

    But I digress. Ratatouille is sweet to look at, and could be the finest animated movie in history. Look at that kitchen–the reflections in the copper kettles, the crumbs under the stove, the way the marble steps are worn out just so. You could stare at the far corner of the screen, away from the action, and get an eyeful of rich detail. Director Brad Bird moves his camera through this crowded kitchen with the dexterity of Keaton leaping through windows and ladders. Ratatouille works on so many levels: the film is a feast of good humor, rich characterization, with a witty script and dynamite direction. It is slapstick and screwball mixed together (one is violence, the other sex), and is a touching examination of the sticky relationship between artists and critics. The vocal talent is spot-on, Patton Oswalt simply perfect as Remy, the rat who so yearns to cook that he’ll risk his life. Of course you should watch this delight with a child: the stuff they won’t get they’ll ache to understand, and maybe, just maybe, you can get that picky eater to chow on the titular–and vegetarian!–dish.

    Once again I have to gripe: Ratatouille garnered rave reviews across the board, and yet critics have seemed squirmish to place this on their year-end lists. Why? Cartoons don’t rate? Children’s films don’t rate? Rest assured, Ratatouille, which deserves every Oscar and accolade there is, will instead get its sole nomination in the Best Animated Feature category, along with Bee Movie and other lousy fare (even Persepolis, which will probably be nominated for Best Foreign Language Film, will be spared that indignity). I guess it doesn’t matter. Ratatouille ranks up there with the greats: His Girl Friday, Bringing Up Baby, and Sullivan’s Travels to name a few. All of which were ignored by critics and academies as well.

  • Balls of Bourbon

    Been a bit boozy lately, haven’t I?

    Well, it is the season of holiday parties, family gatherings, and all manner of cold-weather frolic that can be greatly enhanced by hot cocoa with a "bump"…

    It’s Nana’s fault.

    The old girl was a former society debutante who started smoking when she was a Campfire Girl and cocktailed promptly at 4pm until the day she died at the ripe ol’ age of 90.

    From her I inherited my lack of height, two crystal decanters etched with the words SCOTCH and BOURBON, and the habit of asking for a "skowsch" of water with any single malt over 18 years old. She wasn’t the kind of grandmother that cuddled, but she was a pip and I rather liked her most of the time.

    And now, during these festive days, there is a certain expectation from my social set that I arrive at a function with my signature treat. I bring bourbon balls.

    Not a cookie, not a bar, these little high-octane balls will sit on any holiday table and command attention. It’s the wafting nose of sweet Kentucky mash. The little beauties aren’t cooked, so every bite reminds you what it’s like to be over 21. Some people will shy away, opting for a weak snickerdoodle, but those who induge will find soft notes of vanilla and hints of nutmeg that play well with the rich bourbony flavor.

    Throw one home for Nana.

    Bourbon Balls

    3 cups Nilla Wafers

    1 cup walnuts

    2 cups powdered sugar

    1/4 cup cocoa

    2 tsp. nutmeg

    1/4 cup corn syrup

    1/2 cup + bourbon (Maker’s Mark, Jim Beam, etc.)

    granulated sugar for rolling

    In a food processor, grind up Nilla Wafers. Pour into a large bowl. Grind nuts, add to bowl. Add sugar, cocoa, and nutmeg and stir to evenly combine. In separate bowl mix corn syrup and bourbon, stirring until the syrup is dissolved. Work the liquid into the dry mixture, with your hands for best (but sticky) results. Knead the mix until all ingredients are combined, adding more bourbon if needed. The mix should be firm and sticky, not overly gooey.

    Pull off a small chunk and roll between your palms into about a 2-inch ball. Roll the ball in a shallow bowl of sugar until coated. That’s it.

    Store your bourbon balls in an airtight container and let them age for a few days.

  • Warming the hearts of skanky drunks everywhere

    Dear scantily clad women shivering
    on 1st Avenue
    at bar close, waiting for the cab the bartender called for you 45 minutes
    ago, 

    Thanks to U.S. District Judge
    James Rosenbaum, no longer will you have to wait to get home and get
    your swerve on with that friendly soul who was so kind as to buy you
    five vodka and Red Bulls. You see, prior to this decision to throw the lawsuit to block
    the expansion of cab services in Minneapolis

    out of court, Minneapolis desire to expand its taxi fleet was on hold,
    still operating under an asinine cap system, holding the city to a preset
    number of taxis. In October, 2006, the city decided to address the issue,
    opening taxi service up for expansion. The Minneapolis Taxi Owners Coalition
    quickly sued to block the expansion, fearing for their contract with
    HBO for the next season of "Taxicab Confessions." Given how reliant other cities
    are on cabs, this would seem to be a large-scale issue. In fact, last
    year the city had only 343 cabs – not nearly enough to hold back the
    rising tide of fumbling drunks determined to shirk the sacred responsibilities
    of a lush, which include:

    • paying for parking
    • driving drunk
    • causing a five car
      pile up on 35W in an ill-advised, drunken attempt at road head

     

    Due to Judge Rosenbaum’s
    decision, taxi licenses will no longer cost would-be cabbies $25,000
    and a night of "initiation"(generally involving livestock, nudity,
    and unspeakable acts performed on the Mary Tyler Moore statue at 7th
    and Nicollet). For the next two years, the cap will be raised by 45
    licenses, and will be completely removed in 2010. The only restrictions
    placed on the proliferation of these rolling drunk tanks being that
    10 percent of the city’s cabs must be high efficiency or wheelchair
    accessible vehicles.  

    Of course, the decision doesn’t
    only bode well for the metro-area’s cleavage-baring and playa population.
    The majority of cab companies in the Twin Cities are minority owned,
    and one of the parties advocating blocking the lawsuit (and one of the
    first in line for the $425 taxi licenses) is at least partly minority-owned
    as well. And there’s certainly pent up demand, as evidenced by the
    busy signals so often heard when calling any of the major cab companies
    during bar close or afternoon rush hours. And visitors to our fair city
    from larger metropolises will no longer be baffled by the futility of
    using a cab for reliable transportation – an important key for tourist
    revenues. The upcoming Republican Convention couldn’t possibly have
    anything to do with the city’s decision to change the rules…could
    it? 

    Regardless, take heart, skeezy
    men and skanktastic women of First Avenue. Judge Rosenbaum has heard
    your cries for clemency and has the city well on its way to providing
    you with a chariot for all your debaucheristic needs. No more shall
    you shiver in the cold waving frantically for a cab, the handkerchief
    you wear as a top blowing in the chill wind as you teeter unsteadily
    on stiletto heels completely unsuited for a night of equilibrium annihilating
    drink. For Minneapolis and the U.S. Federal Courts have conquered the
    diabolical Taxi Owner’s Coalition in the name of drunkards and inebriates
    everywhere, and never shall you be forced to wait for a cab to experience
    the disappointment of a fumbling drunken one-night stand again.