f 7inchSlam.com: Eleven Months Later


Eleven Months Later

Welcome back. What have you been up to, there, pallie? Hopefully you re-read over these posts again and again drooling over calories long burned off and grooves since worn thin on our turntable, because obviously no one wrote anything at all. But I've decided to begin the slow and painful update process that I labored over so many moons ago. And now that I've invested the twenty-five dollars it costs to get an unlimited Flickr account, I've written myself into at least a year of servitude for you, my loyal readers. And yes, this means that the records sent my way will be reviewed in a timely manner, and I'll take a lot more pictures of the stupid things I've been ingesting. So hold on for the ride. Let's begin. Rot Shit Tour Food, January 2008. Go.

First thing's first. I love Memphis. This is going to sound crazy, but one look at a supermarket there while I slipped away as the rest of the drones were getting the van fixed was enough to tell me that I needed to try something new and delicious here, given the variety of fresh ingredients even a lowly Kroger (still a far sight better than most slop n' shop supermarkets) can possess:

I'm not sure if they have a farm in back of the building or not, but look clean and fresh and well-aligned everything is! As someone who will organize his silverware on his plate to make a server's job less stressful, my pre-OCD brain got quite stoked when I laid eyes on the tantalizing collection.

Here's another:

I purchased an apple, a Naked smoothie (tour requires vitamins that no gas station can provide), and a piece of this very tasty chicken. No sense overdoing it right away:

And before you raise your hackles at me for not going to Gus' for chicken or Payne's for BBQ... A) Payne's was closed. B) I got to sit in a Midas for five hours with a nonsensical redneck couple and four mentally challenged travel companions. I spent my time drawing aliens until I couldn't take anymore. Then I began to walk down Summer Avenue, but with no jacket on, I ducked into the first interesting eatery I saw. And this one actually happened to be in a gas station. Say whazaaaap to my main man Clyde. Welcome to his spot, appropriately named Clyde's:

I wandered into a gas station to find a very clean and very hospitable lunch counter. And this place happened to be what my black friends would term: "The Spot". Things were buzzing. Clyde called one his boys to see about fixing our van, but after learning that our vehicle was being held for ransom by a major corporation, I decided to just sit down and order something I'd never had before in lieu of trying a favorite. I tried Clyde's Plate Special and ordered liver and onions with mashed potatoes and cornbread.

I know what you're thinking, and I can stop you there. Liver and onions tastes great! My mother makes an amazing meatloaf, but liver and onions has a similar texture to a skirt steak or something a little tougher than your average crumbled beef. The trick is the gravy. Clyde makes a gravy that is chunky without being lumpy and delicately flavored so that the beef flavor doesn't overpower anything. It also goes GREAT with his mashed potatoes. They were some of the finest I've ever had, and I have no qualms with letting y'all know. And I'm sure even the veggies out there can show some quiet reverence when discussing real Southern cornbread: quite frankly, one of the most delectable culinary standards available.

Count Drugula happened to show up and ordered some chicken and dumplings. Since I thought this was only an item included on Chinese menus, I figured I may as well try this, too. I'm also quite glad I did, because this was another great dish I inexplicably have never eaten, either. Good look, Clyde. If you're down in the Dirty, head over. Tell them the white boy with a camera sent you. I'm sure you'll get the hookup.

There were lots of sandwiches on the menu, too, and not much pork, which one of the dudes sitting next to me said "Don't play roun' heah". But they had sausage on their breakfast menu, so that didn't make much sense. They did sell all-beef hot dogs instead of the pork kind, though, so who knows what I'm saying. We said our goodbyes and headed off to our gig. Quite a fun time. Give Clyde's a go.

I forgot to mention here that I woke up to a lovely real-life breakfast courtesy of Ms. Alicja Trout that consisted of a tasty omelet, home fries (which everyone else missed out on because they were too foolish to lift the lid of a pan on the stove), and butter and jam toast. Not only was she nice enough to mail my Blackberry charger back home to PGH, but this! Thanks Alicja! Alright, that's it for Memphis. Let's get colder.

Welcome to Minneapolis. This is what you drink there:

This is the restaurant any aspiring punk should attend:

Oh, hey, look, a bunch of assholes:

Welcome to the Triple Rock Social Club. One of the dudes in Dillinger Four either owns this place or runs it or something. All the servers there were PUNK ladies that you generally see knitting their own tampons and riding around on tall bikes and other dumb bullshit like that, but they're sweethearts and provide great service (at least to us at 6 PM on a Monday). There is a huge venue at this joint, two huge well-stocked bars, and enough vegetarian options to make even the most hoity-toity veggie wimp take notice and hail the joint as a godsend.

Since I am quite boss and fear nothing, I ordered the Cook's Revenge. This means that the kitchen just makes up something and sends it out. I wasn't sure what to expect, but they invented some kind of crazy Mexican vegetarian chili salad with tofu and fresh spinach and orange wedges. And you know what? You may be insecure and hide behind eating MEAT AND ONLY MEAT with your perforated colon and high blood pressure, but I am a man of the world who eats only the best/worst out there; and on tour, you need all the vitamins, fiber, and veggies you can get. So I fucked that salad up and it tasted great.

Count Drugula stepped up to the plate and ordered the Po'Boy. This tasted better than almost anything under the sun. He almost finished it. I took over with three or so bites left.

Vinnie had a chicken/bacon/swiss number. Looked good:

John K. was one of two actual vegetarians with us. He ordered the mock duck sandwich. Good look. I have now decided to cook real duck at some point very soon, because the veggie option was much better than any of that Boca/Morningstar whatnot.

Wild Bill would not shut up about going back to the Triple Rock so that he could eat the vegetarian Thanksgiving dinner (which is always on the menu). Here's that:

They've got LOTR pinball, too:

Hey, what's up Columbus? Sure, you know this place now because of the Feelers and Psychedelic Horseshit and Times New Viking and Pink Reason, but I've been entranced by this burg for years now, and the Blue Danube Restaurant is only one reason why. I stopped in there and ordered one of the filthiest things I've ever eaten, besides that time I forgot to wash a mushroom and ate soil... the Reuben Dog.

Yeah, that is a huge all-beef dog on a hoagie bun with corned beef, Swiss, sauerkraut, and Russian dressing. Yeah, I ate the whole thing. Yeah, it fell apart and had to be eaten with a knife and fork:

I had it with some great mac n' sleaze and peas were the vegetable that day:

Rich from Psychedelic Horseshit had the fish sandwich. Looked good to me:

Yes, you will ultimately look like shit on tour. It happens:

Also, if you take a look over at bigoleschleep.com, you'll notice that I got to go hang out at some swank rock show in the backstage area. Wanna see what people get to eat back there? Sure you do. They get:

Fruit, booze, and cake...

Fancy vegetable trays where cut-out peppers hold the dip...

Paul Newman Chocolate Bars... wha....?

Million dollar kettle-cooked chips... and some dumbass taking pictures of all of it. Hello rock superstardom!

Don't forget Waffle House. Vinnie ate this:

Finally after nine or ten days, we rolled back into Pittsburgh. The excitement I felt towards the prospects of taking a shower, sleeping in my own bed with clean sheets, changing out of the awful sweatpants I'd been wearing under my jeans in the Midwest the whole time, and eating a healthy delicious meal cooked by none other than Lil' Suzz was palpable. Thanks Suzz!

Tofurky sausage (as high in fat as a burger and therefore the tastiest fake meat around) with asparagus and red and green peppers:

And linguine:

And beers. This is the only one Ciggy did not drink while I was gone. He owes me about twenty-five dollars for fancy beers now. Motherfucker.

That is how to relax when you're home.

More coming up. Please comment/write in/anything. Let me know what you want to see. I'm happy to be back. This was cathartic. And now I need lunch. So I have definitely done my job!

To buy Rot Shit records, go here.
To read more from me about tour or whatever, go here.
To see my favorite thing on the internet, go here.

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Blogger LauraB said...

The Reuben dog at the Dube is one of the great culinary inventions of our age. And just looking at that case of Hamm's is making me have to crap--it brings back a weekend spent in WI/MN last year that ravaged my bowels after rampant consumption of said beer.

3:07 PM  
Anonymous David said...

Saw y'all at Murphy's that night.
I never really thought about the grocery store thing. I used to live just outside of Harrisburg, and I get up there every few years. I think you've got a point about the produce section.

1:01 AM  

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