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  • Stars Matter

    It was mid afternoon on a Wednesday. I was putting my
    station together on the line, as my sous chef and I were going over plans
    for the evening.Out of the corner of my
    eye I saw Michael bounce into the dining room. “CHEF, CHEFFFIE”, he shouted. “We
    got it! Four stars! Two for me, and two for you!”

    I knew when we opened Levain that it would be a success. Not that
    I was personally assured of success; I knew full well that there were nuances
    about this market that I didn’t yet understand. But I also knew that Levain was
    a good copy of 71 Clinton (fresh food) in downtown Manhattan. Wylie had nailed
    the casual theme with high end food. It worked with stunning success and
    eventually launched his career to a new level, which led to WD-50. 71 Clinton was
    a killer concept that cut through the airs of classic fine dining restaurants. It
    was an environment that put people at ease but didn’t sacrifice the food; it
    pushed fine dining forward with a greater focus on flavor and less on being
    precious.

    The moment I heard the words come out of Mike’s mouth I felt
    embarrassed. I turned to my sous chef, who extended his hand in congratulations.
    I knew by the expression on his face that he was disappointed.

    I continued setting up my station. Service was going to
    happen the same way it would have anyway. Nobody walking through the door was
    there to celebrate the restaurant. They were there to eat.As dinner drew closer I asked for the proteins
    to be delivered to the line. My sous chef made a point of doing that himself. It
    was clear to me that he had been stewing on our new rating for a couple of
    hours. I knew him, and exactly what was going through his mind.

    “You know,” he started, “this is not a four star restaurant.”

    I turned to face him: “Does it matter what I think?”

    “Of course it matters!” he shot back.

    “I didn’t write the review. What the fuck am I supposed to
    tell him? To reconsider? He is going to do whatever the fuck he wants.He doesn’t give a shit what I think.”

    Slowly and coolly he gestured toward the open dining room and
    repeated, “This is not four stars. You know that. We know that. We have been to
    the mountaintop, and this isn’t it.”

    I scratched my head and turned slightly away. I stared at
    the sconces across the dining room on the far wall and as gently as I could I
    said, “I know. (insert pause, deep breath, hand gesturing) Look at it this way,
    you go to the bar and your friend’s friend shows up. She’s hot, smokin’. Holy
    shit. You come to realize she’s checking you out. She’s flipping her hair,
    getting her groove on. Shit! At that moment, are you going to tell her that you’re
    some fucking shlub? (‘Baby you’re way out of my league. I don’t look any better
    with my clothes off.’)No fucking way. You’ll
    hear yourself making shit up, like ‘My grandmother inspired me to be a chef. It was her strength, her vision.’ Shit. You’ll
    pull her chair in and out if think you have a shot.In the morning, on your way home, I
    guaran-fuckin-tee you’re going to stop at church, get on your knees, and say
    thank you for looking the other way just for one night. No?Hey man. Can’t you just look up and say thank
    you? Take what life gives you and make the most of it?”

    “Thank you.” he said.
    “Put your ego away for two seconds. Think about what we’re supposed to do now. Are
    we supposed to act like we think this is the best we can do? Is this how high the
    bar is set? Where are we supposed to go now when there is no up?Open your eyes. This is bullshit.”

    “Yeah, it’s bullshit. Life is fair all of a sudden? Are you
    really gonna fall on your sword over this?”

    He looked at me like I had shit my pants, turned around, and
    walked away.We never spoke about it
    again.

    He was right of course. Where were we supposed to take
    it? So yeah. I think stars matter if only because they give you an indication
    of where that bar is set and where up is.

     

  • Happy Good Samaritan Involvement Day!

    BENEFIT & WINE
    A Toast to the Cedar

    It’s Good Samaritan Involvement Day, so be sure to fill your day with good deeds. Then continue into the evening hours with a wine-tasting benefit for the Cedar. Now in its third year, the Zipp’s Liquors/Seward Co-op Spring Wine & Food Show features more than 100 wines, beers and spirits, live music, a wine and cheese pairing, a silent auction, and a raffle drawing — all of this accompanied by the joy of helping out one of our top local music venues.

    6-9 p.m., The Cedar, 416 Cedar Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-338-2674;     $40.

    MUSIC
    The Jazz Is Back — The Jazz is NOW!

    After a three-year break due to Artistic Director Jeremy Walker’s health struggles, Jazz is NOW! is back. Celebrate the long-await return with a preview of its NOWnet ensemble (formerly the Jazz is NOW! Orchestra) tonight at the Minnesota Opera Center. Unfortunately, Walker had to abandon the saxophone, but he’ll be on piano, with Chris Thomson and Scott Fultz on saxophones, Jeffrey Bailey on bass, Kelly Rossum on trumpet, and Kevin Washington on drums. The ensemble, as always, will be performing all original compositions.

    8 p.m., The Minnesota Opera Center, 620 N. First St., North Loop, Minneapolis; $10 (students $7).

    A Young Piano Master at Play

    For more classical fare, with masterful piano playing, don’t miss Lang Lang tonight at the Ordway. At only 24 years old, Lang has already sold out major halls across the globe. "His artistry and ability to connect with audiences on a personal level has established him as an international sensation and one of the most exciting and sought after artists of our time." Tonight’s performance includes Mozart’s Piano Sonata No. 13 in B flat major, K.333, Schumann’s Fantasie for piano in C major, Op. 17, six traditional Chinese works, Granados’ Goyescas, H.64, topped off by two fabulous Liszt compositions.

    8 p.m., Ordway Center for the Performing Arts, 345 Washington St., Saint Paul; 651-292-3268; $15-$45.

    How Birds Work

    And for more jazz, hit up the Artists Quarter tonight to discover How Birds Work. What do birds have to do with it? Hear them play, and hear them take flight. "Fiery chops, instinctual communal listening skills, sprawling musical vocabulary, dynamics in flight — that’s How Birds Work." Let the all-star quartet lead you on a unique, experimental tour of jazz tonight — from hard bop to fusion to melodic classics.

    9 p.m., Artists’ Quarter, 408 St. Peter St., Hamm Building, St. Paul; 651-292-1359; $5.

    BOOKS & AUTHORS
    The Post-Birthday World of Lionel Shriver

    Novelist Lionel Shriver has built a career around characters of intense complexity and raw connection, but The Post-Birthday World’s
    perturbed Irina, a London children’s book illustrator, is perhaps
    Shriver’s most thoroughly explored and convincingly drawn protagonist
    yet. To cheat or not to cheat? wonders Irina as she grapples
    with choosing between her devoted partner and his best friend, a
    fervent, flamboyant snooker player. She’s torn between what is and what
    might be, in other words. And while that’s hardly the most original of
    plots, Shriver sharpens her two-pronged narrative with such honesty and
    wit that readers won’t feel compelled to pick sides—the prospect of
    either outcome will have them equally hooked. —Haily Gostas

    4 p.m., University of Minnesota Bookstore, Coffman Memorial Union, 300 Washington Ave. S.E., Minneapolis; 612-625-6000.

    And if you’re up for some shopping, the new Crate & Barrel opens today in Galleria.

  • Malibu Barbie. Yours At Last.

    I never thought it would happen.

    Chevrolet has made a car that people like you will want.

    ..Want like that song you sing to yourself in those private automotive moments when you hope no one is watching.

    ..Want like that Barbie you think about and hope is sentiment you pray no one will share. (Especially not Elliot as he can afford it, or so he thinks).

    I am talking about the new Chevrolet Malibu. It drives better than Saturn Aura and is more comfortable than a Camry. It also shares interior appointments with other "high-content" GM stablemates like Cadillac.

    You don’t need pictures.

    Just think of what it will mean to get your hands on Barbie.

    At last.

    (I am thinking like the Guv’ Pig of New York today, My apologies.)

     

     

  • Eating Christians

    I have learned many things after only two days in Rome.

    I have learned, for instance, that I, who think of myself as a forthright women — pushy, even — have nothing on the people here who will grab a stranger’s arm and lead her into a restaurant or insist on turning heat on in her hotel room when it is already 80 degrees.

    I have learned that the most average table-quality olive oil here makes the stuff we’re buying back home (even the really, really pricey bottles at boutique gourmet shops) seem thin and tasteless. Here, the olio is viscous and green, with a sweet, nutty flavor — one that reminds you an olive is a fruit, and not a vegetable as our guidebook said.

    I have learned yet again (because I’ve visited Europe before and had this exact experience) that the coffee on the continent is vastly superior to everything we have in the States. In fact, these tiny cups of rich, dense, foamy liquid don’t even seem related to oily American espresso and this time, I’m certain I’ve been ruined for Caribou and Starbucks forever.

    I have learned to my chagrin that every other civilized person on the planet — including the kid we stopped on the street to ask for directions to the train station and the elderly man who was mopping the floor in the Pantheon this morning — knows several languages, including mine. I am traveling, for that matter, with a husband who knows three and is able to communicate with the majority of those few who haven’t learned English by slipping into Spanish. While my paltry smattering of poorly pronounced French has been useless.

    But put all that aside.

    My single greatest learning experience to date came this morning, when my husband and I walked from our hotel four miles, across the Tiber River, to the Vatican and beheld a spectacle unlike any I have ever seen. It was Disneyland with Jesus, a vast, commercial enterprise with men hawking knock-off purses and jewelry at the entrance and enormous screens showing video of the current pope. Were I a Catholic, I would be furious, ashamed, moved to convert to Islam. My mother is Catholic and I was positively aggrieved on her behalf. We declined the opportunity to pay €25 euro apiece to tour this “holy” place, tripped over the hordes of beggars who lay crouched in what I think of as a yogic child’s pose, rattling their shorn-off McDonald’s cups for coins. It was sobering to me, the streams of people wearing crosses who appeared to be gleaning something spiritual from the circus of cotton candy vendors, plastic pietas, and St. Francis on a stick.

    We walked away quiet, sickened, not in the mood for lunch. Our next destination was the Coliseum, which took us through the Ghetto, Rome’s Jewish section (which was lovely and quiet and completely devoid of hotdog vendors, kosher or otherwise), and the ancient ruins. Finally we came to the Coliseum, a blackened and broken stone structure, and sat in a park across the street.

    “So this was the place where they had, what?” I asked John (who, by the way, won the trivia contest on the plane on the way over; so I count on him to know all things).

    “Oh, you know, there were gladiators, and lions eating Christians,” he said.

    Well, of course, I’d heard this, but I hadn’t really thought of it. And I have to admit, his saying this really brightened my day. Eating Christians! Now I’m not saying all Christians deserve to be eaten. But I really do think that carefully employed, this practice would solve a lot of problems. There are droves of people pimping the Vatican, and hordes of others brainlessly buying it. Most of them are Christians. And I say, by getting the Coliseum in working order again and feeding a few of them to the lions, we might be able to put a stop to a lot of needless evil. Plus, it would thin out the crowds around Rome.

    Which would mean — here’s the real beauty part — that I wouldn’t have to stand in line so long for my coffee.

     

  • The Three Pointer: Lost in the Crunch

    Copyright 2008 NBAE (Photo by David Sherman/NBAE via Getty Images)

    Game #63, Home Game #33: Portland 103, Minnesota 96

    Season Record: 14-49

    1. When It Matters Most

    Al Jefferson did not score a single point in the first 19 minutes and 4 seconds of this game, which I’d wager is his longest drought of the season thus far. By the time he grabbed an offensive rebound and tossed in the putback, three of his teammates–Marko Jaric, Rashad McCants and Craig Smith–were already in double figures and the Wolves were up 5. In the locker room after the game, Jefferson sprawled easily in his chair and exclaimed that the situation showed "that my teammates had my back." This is the way a leader talks.

    The screws were turned for almost this entire game, making it one of the more enjoyable to watch this year. There were no double-digit leads, 16 ties, and 18 lead changes. In such a game you knew that Jefferson’s prominence would steadily rise, and you suspected that on Portland’s side, a similar dynamic was coalescing around combo guard Brandon Roy.

    And so it went. Jefferson’s point totals through three periods were 0-2-6. Roy’s were 7-5-6. In the 4th quarter, Jefferson led all scorers with 12 points, shooting 6-9 FGs, while the rest of his teammates shot 2-13 FG and coughed up a 5-point lead in an 18-6 run over the final 6:06 of the game. Asked if he got frustrated with the disparity between his own accuracy and that of his teammates during these final 12 minutes, Jefferson replied, "I got frustrated with myself for missing shots and tried to get myself going."

    Roy led his team in fourth quarter field goals (3-5), free throws (3-4), points (9) and assists (2). "Roy got to the rim," Wolves coach Randy Wittman stated. "They didn’t settle for 25-foot jump shots."

    Let’s address this Brandon Roy versus Randy Foye thing head-on for a moment. Through no fault of his own, Foye is apparently destined to be bedeviled with Roy comparisons, due to the Wolves drafting Roy and immediately trading him for Foye. Since Roy was Rookie of the Year during Foye’s rookie year and was an all-star while Foye’s sophomore pro season has been spent recovering from a knee injury, it is difficult to claim, at this point anyway, that the Wolves got the better of the deal.

    Roy is one of those players better appreciated in person than on the stat sheet. There is a marvelous placidity to his style, a level-headedness that has a calming, confidence boosting effect on his team. From the Wolves being up 90-87 with 5:48 to play, he keyed a 14-4 run over the next 5:14, either scoring or assisting on every point but James Jones’s three-pointer, including two kamikaze drives through traffic that, as Wittman admiringly noted, finished at the rim.

    Foye did not have one of his better crunchtime performances, going a little too strong on his classic running banker down the right lane with 1:32 to play and Portland up 2, 94-92, and then having a similar shot swatted away by Joel Przybilla with the Wolves down 7, 101-94, at 34 seconds to go. The contrast was sharp.

    But the greater point here is overall crunchtime leadership–those who have it and those who don’t. And on that count, Foye has shown a willingness and proclivity to make big shots. To further the bedevilment, he doesn’t offer the same versatility of ways to beat you that Roy seems to, and his ballhandling and overall mien is less calming than it is propulsive and perhaps infectiously energizing.

    Crunchtime prowess is probably the most compelling argument for starting Foye at point guard ahead of Sebastian Telfair, even when Telfair returns and is healthy enough to play. As eye-opening as Bassy has been in terms of floor generalship and pacemaking, we have seen, more than once, what happens when opponents practically dare Telfair to shoot when the game is on the line. Meanwhile, opponents would not be remiss in doubling Foye, or at the least preparing for his hell-bent-for-leather traipse down the right lane.

    As a longtime defender of Kevin Garnett, I know how skewed and inaccurate the "can’t score in the clutch" epithet can be; but, that said, understand why someone would invoke crunchtime as a means of separating Lebron James and Kobe Bryant from KG among the top 3 MVP candidates this season. Some guys, for better or worse, in wisdom or lopsided ego, just want to seize these make or break moments. Some don’t.

    And some shouldn’t, which brings me back to the "Lost in the Crunch" title of this trey. Marko Jaric had a nice game tonight: a dozen points, six assists, three steals and zero turnovers. But is anyone surprised that Jaric had 10 of those 12 points in the first period on 4-5 FG and was scoreless in 5:57 of the 4th, with his only FGA a wild, ill-advised airball on a left handed layup attempt with Portland up 1 with 4:30 to play? Is anyone surprised that Shaddy McCants nailed his first 7 shots, executing that jab-step, pull-back-and-shoot move to literal perfection, and went 7-8 FG through three quarters, only to go 1-4 FG in the fourth, culminated by an airball trey with Portland up 5 and less than a minute to go? And is anyone surprised that Corey Brewer strode into a long jumper in rhythm yet still clanked it, then mimicked Jaric’s crazy drive to the basket and left handed airball–two shots that comprised half of his 0-4 FG evening–during the crunchtime swoon?

    After the game, Wittman tempered his criticism of the 4th quarter offense, obviously in deference to the confidence of this clank crew. "We had our chances," he said. "We had good looks. Ryan had several good looks." That would be Gomes, the superglue and team barometer who likewise has proven to be shaky in the clutch. He went 0-2 FG in the 4th tonight, but was missing wide open looks most of the evening en route to his 5-14 FG performance, further besmirched by his zero assists and 2 measley rebounds (such are the hazards of guarding Joel Przybilla, who doesn’t score but boxes out pretty well).

    BTW, here’s a link to the "Clutch Stats Chart" at 82games.com:

    http://82games.com/CSORT11.HTM

     

    2. Free Throw Bugaboo Strikes Again

    At the 5:55 minute mark of the third period, Foye committed yet another of the team’s dumb, reach-instead-of-shuffle fouls on defense, putting Portland in the penalty. At the time Minnesota had hit 8-9 FT, almost exactly the same as Portland’s 9-10 FG, and the Wolves were up 68-65. I leaned over to Myles Brown of slamonline.com and said, here comes a free throw parade. If the Wolves can stay within ten FTs of Portland, they’ll win. Otherwise, they’ll lose.

    Well, Minnesota never again got to the free throw. The Blazers got 16 more free throws, and made 13–more than enough to turn a 3 point lead into a final 7 point deficit. And to anyone who has watched the team play this season, my prescience wasn’t that visionary, in fact rather predictable. Minnesota is next to last in the league in the number of free throws they shoot and have the fifth largest amount of free throws shot against them. That’s how you can score more field goals than your opponents over the course of 63 games and still be 14-49. Opponents have converted a whopping *433* more free throws than Minnesota, which works out to 7 points per game.

    As usual, tonight was a combination of stupid fouls on defense and a lack of foresight and aggression on offense. McCants and Gomes were chief offenders of the cheap, reach-in type that is a Wolves’s specialty. And in postgame remarks, Wittman called out his team for not attacking the rim when Portland’s big, especially Aldridge and Pryzbilla, showed hard on the pick and roll, leaviing the lane open to express layups.

    3. Hit and Run

    Sure hope it is the Gator rook’s nagging thigh bruise and not some "extended look" or pecking order shenanigans that has Kirk Snyder getting many of the early minutes–including the starter’s minutes–that not so long ago belonged to Corey Brewer.

    Yet another too-small sample size and yet another decent plus/minus–a team-best zero–for Chris Richard tonight.

    Crazy schedule makers had the Wolves out west, then back home for one game tonight versus Portland, then back out to the West Coast. Would a road game in Portland that saved two flights given them more of a shot at victory than a home drive-by ?

  • Screens and Shadows

    FILM
    Lunch and a Movie with Joan Prowse

    Joan Prowse has been writing, producing, directing, and editing video for 15 years. She co-founded the Toronto-based independent production company, CineFocus Canada. She has produced and directed more than 20 hours of prime-time arts, biography, and social issue programs. She has a number of award-winning documentaries under her belt. And she has just released a documentary about Aboriginal artist Buffy Sainte-Marie‘s ascent through New York’s Greenwich Village folk music scene in the ’60s. This afternoon, you have a rare opportunity to sit down and have lunch with her as she discusses her latest work at the IFP Director’s Roundtable. Then, join her this evening for a sceening of Buffy Sainte-Marie: A Multimedia Life as part of Augsburg College’s Native American Voices Festival.

    Lunch at Noon, IFP MN, 2446 University Avenue West, Suite 100, St. Paul; 651-644-1912; free, but you are encouraged to bring your own lunch. Reception at 5:30 p.m. and screening at 7 p.m., Ausberg College, Century Room, Christensen Center lower level, 2211 Riverside Ave. S., Minneapolis.

    FILM

    Who Killed Vincent Chin?

    For another great documentary experience, check out tonight’s Labor and Community Film Series feature: Who Killed Vincent Chin? The 1987 crime documentary chronicles the murder of Vincent Chin, "an automotive engineer mistaken as Japanese who was slain by an assembly line worker who blamed him for the competition by the Japanese auto makers that were threatening his job." Directors Christine Choy and Renee Tajima-Pena map out the facts that enabled the murderer to escape justice in the court system.

    7 p.m., UAW Local 879 hall, 2191 Ford Parkway, St. Paul.

    ART & PERFORMANCE
    Looming in the Shadows

    And for a step away from film — maybe a live film of sorts — head over to the Walker for a one-of-a-kind experience with William Yang. Tonight and tomorrow night, Yang brings you Shadows, a multimedia performance using a combination of original photographs and found images to weave together stories of South Australia’s German community across generations, scopes, and continents. Yang’s emotional monologue is set to original vocal and instrumental music by Colin Offord.

    "Through intimate details, Yang uncovers universal themes of suffering under ignorance and fear and the need for understanding and healing."

    8 p.m. (tonight and tomorrow night), William and Nadine McGuire Theater, Walker Art Center, 1750 Hennepin Ave., Minneapolis; 612-375-7600; $20, members $16.

  • Sushi: The Naked Truth — Edamame

    Anyone who has tried to make sushi knows it is harder than it looks. But
    when you are plopped at the sushi bar watching the chef make rolls, nigiri, or
    sashimi it looks easy. I, too, thought it was easy when I first watched my
    master show me how to make a roll — until I rolled my fist roll. When I was
    done I didn’t know if he was pissed or if he was going to burst out laughing.

    But that’s the easy part. The key to making sushi — what is critical — is the preparation before you actually make it: fish selection, fish handling,
    rice selection, method of washing and cooking rice, vinegar mixture,
    etc. It’s the pain-staking little things that determine wether the outcome of sushi is
    ok, or an orgasm in your mouth.

    What does this have to do with edamame? It’s the little things.
    Since we opened, I’ve been hearing guest’s commenting on our edamame. I find it odd,
    because its just edamame, steam, then salt. Simple as that. How can our edamame
    differ from anyone else’s?

    Well, my question was answered on Sunday night. In part three of the
    "Sushi: The Naked Truth" I talk about my new guy, who has worked
    at several sushi bars in the Twin Cities. I was in back working with my
    head hot foods chef Alex. While we were waiting for some edamame to
    finish up, the new guy came back and asked, "Why do you do that?"

    "Do what?" we
    both asked.

    "Cook the edamame to order. It’s a pain!"

    "How did
    you do it at other places, especially when its busy?"

    "Pre-cook it, wrap it in the bowl it will be served in, then stick
    it in the microwave when ordered."

    Most sushi bars do not have a kitchen behind the sushi bar, so it is a pain
    when shrimp tempura or soft shell crab tempura is needed for a roll. With
    our open kitchen we just call back an order if needed, and we have a
    Chinese wok range on the line to speed up orders. Part of every Chinese wok
    range is a big stock pot. Since we do not serve up Chinese stir-fries we
    do not use that pot for actual stock but instead we use have boiling water for edamame.
    In and out, in about a minute fresh to order.

    So, again it all comes down to the small things that make the biggest difference.

  • Jet Lagged and Loving It

    We arrived in Rome yesterday around 2 p.m. This after 18 straight hours of travel, consisting of two hours in the MSP airport (who knew we’d whip through security in 30 seconds?), eight hours on the flight to Amsterdam, four hours in Schipol, and another hour 58 minutes in the air.

    I don’t sleep on planes [I can barely sleep in beds, for Christ’s sake!]. My head was still stuck back home: Did our son make it to school? Was anyone feeding the cat? Had our daughter had anything new pierced in the scant day since we left? Weary and worried, I found Rome formidable.

    Everything sounds and smells different here. The streets are made of cobblestone, which gives the rain a darker odor and car tires a hollow bumping beat. There are throngs of people snaking down narrow alleyways, flashing neon Farmacia signs, tiny stores selling €200 shoes.

    Around 5 p.m., I felt irrationally daunted. Strung out, stupid, and desperately in need of a drink. Still unshowered and in our two-day-old clothes, John and I went to a supermercato called Sma. It was under a furniture store, accessible only through a subway-like set of stairs. The aisles were crazy — some straight, others curling, with no pattern at all — but in the back of the store (or maybe it was the left in the front), there was a small wine section. We sifted through the bottles, mostly Italian, a few French.

    There were rows of a Barbera d’Alba 2006 from the Cooperativa FRA Produttori for €4.99 each, plus one dusty, scuffed bottle of 2005 marked one Euro less. It had to be a mistake, I told John. Throughout Europe, 2005 was the best year in decades. There was no way we could buy this wine for the equivalent of $6. But when we went to the cashier, she rang up the Barbera d’Alba for exactly €3.99.

    I don’t know that any wine has ever tasted so good to me. Fruity and musty with a little bit of the dark, rocky rain I’d been smelling all afternoon. The day softened into evening. We drank the entire bottle in our room at the Hotel Italia, then fell asleep — blissfully — for a little over 11 hours. And when we woke up this morning, the sun was out and everything was new.

  • Really, Really Fresh Seafood

    When Carl Wong sold the Seafood Palace on Nicollet Ave. three
    years ago, he signed a non-compete agreement that barred him from operating a
    food business within seven miles of Eat Street. The agreement expired last
    summer, and the veteran restaurateur is getting back in the business. Wong opened
    a small seafood market and sushi shop called Sea Port Market in the Midtown
    Global Market     a few weeks ago (in the space formerly occupied by the Republic
    of Fish), and he plans to open Jade, a new full-service Chinese restaurant and sushi bar by
    early April, in the MGM space formerly occupied by Chang Bang. Both businesses
    will share a sushi chef, Tony Sin, who previously worked at Crave in the
    Galleria.

    Wong says Sea Port caters to both Asian and Western
    customers. Western customers like their fish already filleted and ready to cook
    – and the Sea Port will usually have a selection on hand, ranging from grouper
    and lemon sole to tilapia and tuna. Asian customers prefer their seafood
    really, really fresh – as in, alive and swimming. The selection varies
    depending on what’s in season, but the live tanks at Sea Port can be stocked
    with everything from live Dungeness, stone crab and oysters to shrimp, lobster
    and geoducks. If you prefer, you can buy a Dungeness crab cooked to order
    ($7.95 a pound) and have it cooked to order in eight to ten minutes.

    The menu at Jade will be a combination of traditional
    Cantonese and Szechuan dishes, sushi, and some more contemporary Asian fusion
    dishes like salmon with asparagus, or charcoal grilled steak with mixed Asian
    vegetables. A buffet will be offered at lunch time, and Wong hopes to also
    start serving dim sum, as soon as he can located a good dim sum chef –
    hopefully by Mothers’ Day.

  • Silver Swan Leads a Lush Life of Wizardry

    BOOKS & AUTHORS
    Raking through Books with Banville

    Join us for Raking Through Books, The Rake’s monthly happy hour
    book club, at Kieran’s Irish Pub. This event offers readers the chance
    to discuss literature with writers and each other in a super-casual
    setting. This month, join John Banville (a.k.a. Benjamin Black). The inimitable Quirke, the irascible and formerly hard-drinking Dublin
    pathologist, returns in another spellbinding crime novel, The Silver Swan. —Jennifer Havrish

    5:30-7:30 p.m., Kieran’s Irish Pub, 330 2nd Ave. S., Minneapolis; free.

    Richard Price

    Bronx born and bred, Richard Price is arguably the country’s grittiest version of a zeitgeist Renaissance man. Following his first two novels The New York Times Book Review
    dubbed him “The Fonzi of Literature,” which may or may not have been
    intended as a compliment. But if early Price seemed like a flyweight
    greaseball with a Mean Streets obsession that verged on the romantic, his 1992 crack masterpiece Clockers
    established him as a writer without peer when it came to breathing life
    into a subject that hadn’t yet become an abstract hip-hop cartoon to
    millions of white kids. These days Price may be better known as a
    screenwriter than a novelist, but his work on HBO’s The Wire has been offered as conclusive evidence that television can possess all the power of great literature. In Lush Life, his first novel in five years, Price returns to his hometown and finds the streets as mean as ever. —Brad Zellar

    7 p.m., William Mitchell College of Law, 875 Summit Ave., St. Paul; 651-225-8989; free. Also tomorrow at 7:30 p.m., Magers & Quinn, 3038 Hennepin Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-822-4611.

    FILM & VIDEO
    Méliès: First Wizard of Cinema on DVD

    At the turn of the last century, Georges Méliès was literally a stage conjuror, and his eye for the magical led to the creation of some of the most startling silent films ever made. Méliès: First Wizard of Cinema is a thirteen-hour collection of 173—count ’em, 173!—short. —Peter Schilling

    THEATER & PERFORMANCE
    Blues in the Night

    If you’re up for some bluesy torch songs — and who isn’t? — then you’ll want to check out Blues in the Night. The Sheldon Epps musical is set in a boarding house, but forget about the story; you can’t go wrong with the songs of Bessie Smith, Benny Goodman, Duke Ellington, Ida Cox, and other great blues legends of the ’20s and ’30s.

    8 p.m., Ordway Center for the Performing Arts, 345 Washington St, St Paul, 651-224-4222; $40.50-$50.50.