The City That Nearly Killed Me

I’ve been home for a week now and am still healing from my long weekend in New York. Zakk Wylde would say I am boozed, broozed and broken-boned. Speaking of, he played a tribute to Les Paul just a few days before I arrived in New York but The Puss was there and taunted me with pics from the show. Could you possibly imagine hearing The Blessed Hellride jazz style? I would have left a very wet chair behind had I been there. Okay, stop imagining and just watch.

I admit it. I have a major metal crush on Zakk Wylde. The Puss had a full photo album of metal porn for me when I arrived. Needless to say, we listened to a lot of Black Label Society that weekend.

New York and Jersey City fucking killed me. It was basically a 5 day bender without luggage (Scare Canada lost and didn’t get my luggage to me until 12 hours before I left). So much fun, so many drinks, lots of hockey, great food with many bruises and an x-ray record to prove it. Yeah, I, uh, landed face first on Meow’s tile kitchen floor and haven’t been able to chew on one side of my face for over a week now. What can I say? I’m clumsy on a good day, nevermind when morning booze is involved.

I could go on and on about the sights, the fun times, the New Jersey Devils we went to see where they beat Toronto, or the evening of wonder when we went to watch the Canucks game where Toronto blew a 3-0 lead, but the food we ate and restaurants we went to were the highlight. Well, not the ESPN Zone but pretty much everywhere else.

Where do I start? The beginning would make the most logical sense. The first morning we went out for breakfast was this great little place called Marco & Pepe. Pretty non-descript little place on a corner, I probably wouldn’t have given it a glance had The Puss not taken me. HOWEVER, stop the fucking bus, I’m getting off and living in their breakfast.

We, as per the usual, start with a boozy coffee (you know, to make sure you don’t go into withdrawal), The Puss gets the ham and eggs and I order the French toast. Oh sorry, it’s not bread, it’s fucking croissants! Picture it, not bread but croissants, dredged in eggs and milk and then fried. Why have I never thought of this before? It was fucking unbelievable! I think this will become my new breakfast for when I actually want them to stay. Add bacon.

The next meal that was amazing was our deli lunch. C’mon, it’s New York., as if I’m not going to have a Jew lunch. Lansky’s. calls itself an modern classic Jewish Deli. It also had half a dozen geriatric old Jewish men sitting around that were probably owners to add to the “old time” feel. It was an absolute shame that I had cracked my face the day before and I couldn’t wrap my mouth around the ginormous pastrami sandwich, but ended up having to eat the pastrami with a fork.

The next morning we went to a place in the west village that was an absolute fucking treat. I wish we had places like this in Vancity. Okay, first thing, remember that pianist from the video with Zakk Wylde? So, though I don’t get to see Zakk, the pianist and his quintet were playing at Garage the morning we went for brunch. How cool is that?

Not only do they have a pretty decent brunch menu where everything is a standard $15.95, they also have the most fucking amazing upgrade. Get this…you pay $6 to drink unlimited mimosas, bloody marys or screwdrivers for an hour and a half. Are you serious? Are you asking to lose money? Please, do you know who we are? We basically ended up paying $1 per drink at breakfast. Fucking lovely. That, paired with an applewood smoked bacon and Vermont cheddar omelet. Do me a favour, check out the menu and look at the description of the French toast. Retardedly delicious looking.

Okay, one more place to mention. When my bag was finally delivered, it was so late in the day that we just decided to pick some place close to eat near The Puss’s place. We decided on a place called the Light Horse Tavern. Tavern, it was not. It was this swank little place that had a jazz duo playing and a menu that was not at all pub food. Also, check out their brunch menu. *melts *

We started with a really nice bottle of Chilean red and grilled corn on the cob with chipotle butter and pecorino cheese. I read it, I heard the waiter talk about it but it just didn’t make sense to my palate. Really? Would that taste good? Easy answer: fuck, yes. Speaking of the waiter, he was probably some of the best service I’ve had in such a long time. He really romanced the menu, was on top of everything and had a great personality, which always helps. If I was The Puss, I would go back alone and find that man in my pants.

After the corn, we had mussels steamed in white wine with chorizo, garlic and roasted tomatoes. I’m normally not a huge fan of mussels but now I’m thinking that it’s just been the preparation that I haven’t been enjoying. These mussels did not remind me of vagina, but were so wonderfully flavoured, the chorizo, wine and garlic married so well together, the shellfish was perfectly cooked and I thought about bathing in the broth. I didn’t but did devour mass quantities of bread soaking it all up.

As we were looking at the menu before we came over, all I knew was that I NEEDED to have the lobster gnocchi. Just thinking of the words make me weak in the knees. Butter poached lobster, chive potato truffle gnocchi, wild mushrooms, roasted beets and bacon crème fraiche. Do I even have to use words? Bacon fucking crème fraiche. Woooo….

To cap off the best dinner as well as the best and blurriest weekend, The Puss had the chocolate bread pudding with caramel ice cream and a peach Belgian beer. I had the (of course) vanilla crème brulée with mixed berry compote, 2 fingers of Balvenie and a pint of Magners. Unfortunately, it took me until dessert to realise that they had the much coveted Magners. We don’t usually carry it in Canada, and as far as I understand, it has to be special ordered which is lame because it’s one of the greatest dry ciders ever.

One of the greatest meals I’ve ever had, service so great that he even helped me make up a lie to tell work about how I had injured my jaw and why I was bruised, my bag had been returned to me which had subsided my OCD and all was good in the world. I would do this whole trip all over again in a heartbeat, minus the bag loss and face falling. Big smile on my face just thinking about it again.

Is It Weird That a Double Bass Drum Makes Me Feel Funny in my Pants?

Metal and double bass drums go together like hangovers and greasy breakfasts. You can have one but it’s just not the same without other. The double bass drums add a much more full sound, almost a warm sound. Weird to think of some of my favourite bands like Slayer, Entombed, Lazarus A.D., Pantera and Black Label Society sound “warm”…

The sound of a band with a thundering double bass drum really does make me funny in the pants. I fucking love it! No, I’m not sitting on speakers, I mean just the sound of them hammering my ears. I can’t say that I don’t like drummers who don’t use two bass drums (Nicko McBrain from Iron Maiden almost refuses to use them and he’s still fast as) but I do seem to be drawn to bands whose drummers do.

Last weekend I was having drinks, talking metal with a couple of dudes and one of them recommended that if I hadn’t yet, to give DevilDriver a serious listen. I’ve known of them, heard the name and have read about them on metal news sites but have never really given them much time. This dude’s opinion seemed relatively trustworthy so I ended up downloading their discography on Sunday afternoon.

They’ve been a band for about 8 years and the singer is a crazy man who is the former singer of Coal Chamber. I popped in their second album, The Fury of Our Maker’s Hand, on my way to work this morning and once they got over that ridiculously boring and stupidly long 52 second melodic intro of the first song, the awesomeness started. Screaming, fast, shredding guitars, pounding drums. Win. When the album came to the third song, I was in metal love. I hit repeat on that song twice before letting it go to the fourth song and then nearly contemplated driving straight past the office so that I could spend a little more time with my new friends DevilDriver.

If you’ve never heard of DevilDriver before, give them a listen. I only wish that I had spent more time listening to them a few weeks earlier because they just came through Vancouver 13 days ago. I also wish they had some decent videos online. The band tried to form the largest recorded circle pit at Download in 2006 but were rejected by Guinness Records, and tried again at Soundwave in 2009. All of the footage is garbage. But please, enjoy what was this morning’s (and evening’s) warm tunes.

Comfy Stuff

This week at work has been hell. I seriously don’t know how I’m going to keep dealing unless things change soon. But wait! I have a 5 day weekend coming to me in 4 more work sleeps, so I’m just going to keep my short-term tunnel vision glasses on and deal with that later. All the stress in my work life has made me crave comfort at home. After a shite day a work, I’ve found it in rye.

Today I decided I would try to find it in food. Burgoo is a place I go to find comfort food. Mind you, being as cranky as I have been it’s not as if I’m about to go out for dinner in public where there are people…stupid people. My hatred for people that are not my friends or family is stronger than it has been in a long time. Instead, I decided that I was going to try to recreate Burgoo’s Sunset Corn and Chicken soup.

Not only does Burgoo have amazing soups, everything else is equally fantastic. Their sandwiches are huge and fucking delicious. They have fondue. Motherfucking fondue! My absolute favourite is their fall seasonal fondue (they have a seasonal every menu item), the Guinness and Irish Cheddar fondue. The French onion soup rules and I’ve only looked at the mac & cheese and drooled profusely. I’ve also been told that their Irish stew and beef bourguinon are king. They also do a dessert called the Hot Chocolate Chili Pot (bittersweet chocolate custard with a hint of spice, served warm with vanilla ice cream) which is like a comfy mouth blanket that I wish I could wrap around my whole body. Oh yeah, and they make fucking wicked cocktails and are about three blocks away from Chez Puss.

I had intentions of walking into the grocery store after work today to find my ingredients for my faux Burgoo soup but got a little distracted. By this…

I know it’s cheating and I’m not a fan of pre-packaged anything but hey, it’s a soup made by Mayor Gregor's company and it looks pretty good. It was pretty close to what I was trying to make but maybe missing a few things. I ended up buying some, then added my own chicken, salt, pepper, cumin, coriander, cayenne, chipotle and a little bit of coconut milk. I thought the coconut milk would really even out the cumin, coriander and spice. It did.

Mayor Gregor: “Trust me, I’m a mayor”

Not quite Burgoo, but close efuckingnough. I got home from work at 5:30pm, made this and my spicy chicken noodle soup and now have 7 days worth of lunches in mason jars in the freezer. By the time the puck dropped for tonight’s Canucks game, both soups were in jars, photos taken, kitchen cleaned, load of laundry being done and I’m on my couch working on my third rye drink. Turns out, what I really wanted was rye, not soup. The soup looks good…for later.

I now present the below in honour of the only person that I can think of that loves rye more than I do. If you don’t know why this video is related, Google ‘Blacktooth Grin’. It’s also the song I was singing in my head as I walked into the office this morning getting ready for the day ahead.

Where Has All The Metal Gone?

Are you there Vancouver Metal Scene? It’s me, Moonbeam. Um, I miss you. A lot. You bring me so much joy and yet you don’t seem to be around these days. I know there are some pretty good shows coming up but I really need a live show fix pronto. See, things have been really frustrating in my many parts of my life lately and I really need to take that out on you. So if you could go ahead and throw in a fucking awesome show within the next week or so, I totally promise that I’ll do anything you ask of me. Thanks.

I feel like I haven’t been to a show in ages. In fact, I believe the end of November is the last time I went out somewhere to raise my fists and bang my head. I need the kind of sweet relief that only a stinky, sweaty, beyond wasted metal show can give me. So, if February 5^th and Arch Enemy can hurry up and get here now that would be greeeeeat.

I think I’m feeling this lack of metal love because I’ve now heard three people talking about Maryland Deathfeast (http://www.supremebrutality.com/) and I can’t go. Who in their fucking right minds decided to bestow this metal honour to fucking Baltimore? It would cost me $750 just to fly there. What a waste! Oh wait…Entombed will be there. So will DRI. And Eyehategod. And Converge. And 50 other bands. Gargh! Whatever. I’ll be in Vegas the weekend before and that will make up for it (I hope). Maybe some of these bands will be on tour and I may be able to catch them elsewhere. Please, Entombed! Please! I will give you the first foul existence from my womb to see you!

I have to share a link to a restaurant that The Puss sent me last week. I think this is the result of a BBQ fanatic and metal head having a restaurant baby. The only baby this place would give me is a sweet, sweet pork baby. His name would be Piotr VI. Then Entombed would then have to take him from me because they answered my black prayers by coming to Vancouver.

http://www.rocknrollribs.com/

Heh heh…lazy roadie wings, backstage chix sandwich and a drummer’s dozen (13) wings. Alright Florida, you can live.

Merry Christmas...Again...

Well, better late than pregnant...Merry Christmas...again!

January 7th is the 7th day of the Gregorian calendar or the 359th day of the Julian calendar. The Julian calendar is the calendar that was observed by (what is now) the eastern European and many Orthodox churches. Therefore, this means that yesterday was Christmas in old country! No, we don’t go stupid and do gifts again and all that bollockery, we just do a big dinner again, old country family style.

My mom and Nana brought out the cabbage rolls (sarma), roast half a pig, old country cheese log (pita), too many desserts and a whole whack of other stuff (I might have just barfed in my mouth thinking of how much food there was on the table). The only part about this second Christmas that I look forward to is my mother’s chicken cordon bleu. I know, so old country, right? She makes it only for me, it’s amazing and you get to take out a lot of aggression on chicken.


My mother's recipe is something like pound the fuck out of the chicken (aka tenderize) until it's flat. Fill it with one part feta, one part mozzarella and one part Black Forest ham. Form it into a ball, dredge it in flour, egg and then bread crumbs. Fry all sides in a frying pan. Place in a baking dish and then bake until the babes look done (usually about 20 minutes or so) at 350ºF. Those are her honest to goodness directions, minus the f bomb. I love my mom. You doubt old country?

Her chicken also makes me food drunk which means that I drink copious amounts of wine at dinner. Which leads me to going home and deciding that pouring myself 4 fingers of scotch is a good idea and even better when combined with cold meds. Let's just say that I woke up this morning at the time that I should have been at the office, have not showered, can smell the booze on myself but am still very much looking forward to leftover chicken for the next few days. I'm also wearing a red shirt. I know, who knew I actually owned clothing that isn't black?

Hellbent for Cooking

Oh man, did I ever stumble upon a gooder! I found a story on Blabbermouth about this metal cookbook “Hellbent for Cooking” by Annick “Morbid Chef” Giroux a couple of months ago and it FINALLY arrived on my doorstep yesterday. It’s even better than I expected. Also, is that not the most awesomely metal apron ever?

The author claims to have a lethal addiction to heavy metal and heavy rock only rivaled by her obsession for cooking (hmmm…sounds like some chick I know…). She decided one day to combine her passions and started approaching bands to submit their favourite recipes where she has compiled them in this book. There are submissions from unknown and underground bands to legends such as GWAR, Armored Saint, Sepultura, Anthrax, Judas Priest, Possessed and Death. This book also kicks serious ass because every recipe has a photo of the food and a brief write-up on the band.

Yeah, and recipe titles such as Mummified Jalapeño Bacon Bombs, Incinerator Chicken Wings, Rolled Swamp Bombs, Sweet Breads on Bed of Seared Heart, Welfare Nachos, Hamburgers of Devastation, Pagan Pie, Macaroni Against Monotheism, Misanthrope’s Last Supper, Speed Metal Vegan Tofu, and my favourite, Black Metal Berry Pie. Check out the lattice on the pie here.

At Least I Wasn’t as Drunk as Don Cherry

Oh New Years, how you drunkened me. I had wanted my New Year celebrations to be quiet, laid back, enjoyable, full of food and spent with close friends. This it was. It also turned into a ridiculous 3 day bender.

New Years Eve was spent with vancityrockgirl and her hubby at theirs and we had decided on a fondue theme. (Side note: when a coworker of mine asked what I was doing for New Years and I explained that I was having a fondue night with a couple, he asked if we were swingers. I nearly peed myself laughing at a 40+ year old man asking if I was a swinger based on the fact that there was fondue involved. Anyways, out of the 70s and back to the future…) The meal was ridiculous. It always is when she and I are involved.

The evening started with a ruby red vodka martini. Ruby red vodka, blood orange soda and…vitamin water!?! What? I know, right? Get the vitamins and water out of my booze for fuck’s sakes! Surprisingly, it was really good (and we had no other mix). We made two more rounds with different flavoured vodkas.

We chose to do two different fondues for dinner. Hers was a broth fondue that she served up with steak, turkey, shrimp, green beans and asparagus. I’m not a fan of the traditional oil broth and her broth fondue was sort of shabu shabu-ish and freaking delicious.



Mine is the cheese fondue the furthest away. I decided to go with a Gruyère and Cider Fondue which turned out really nicely when I made it the night before but was a fucking disaster on the night of. A lesson to be learned, never try to do-ahead fondue. I ended up having to use almost half a tall can of cider to compensate for the texture that just wasn’t coming together properly when re-heated. Also, rather than using Calvados, I used white wine because Calvados is stupidly expensive. I served it with kielbasa sausage, ciabatta bread cubed, red grapes, cherry tomatoes and apple slices.

Gruyère and Cider Fondue
4 c (450g) Gruyère cheese, coarsely grated
2 tbsp cornstarch
1 c dry apple cider, such as Strongbow or Gaymers
1 tbsp apple cider vinegar
1 tbsp Calvados, applejack brandy or pear brandy

Toss cheese and cornstarch in a large bowl to coat. Bring cider and vinegar just to a simmer in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Reduce heat to medium low (mixture should be barely simmering). Add a handful of cheese to the cider mixture. Stir until cheese is melted. Add remaining cheese 1 handful at a time, stirring until melted between additions. Increase heat to medium and cook until fondue begins to bubble, stirring constantly. Stir in Calvados and season to taste with white pepper.

After these two fondues were done, the three of us grabbed our drinks, went for a smoke and collectively couldn’t wrap our heads around the amount of food that had just been consumed. But it all looked so lovely and little! There’s no way that would have filled us up! Yup, it had and the chocolate dessert fondue was ignored.

Lots more drinks, a Star Trek movie (2009), the animated corpse of Dick Clark, lots more drinks again and I wake up with a cold. Another lesson learned: fondue + people with colds = fon-don’ts. Sorry, I’m such a fucking nerd and I couldn’t resist the fondue joke.

Long story short, birthday party on New Year’s Day, lots more drinks, hockey watching, people, eating, good times. January 2nd rolls around and this chocolate fondue hasn’t yet been consumed. Fear not, Moon and Puss to the rescue! Our day started at 10:30am by making the fondue, opening yet another bottle of prosecco and more hockey. In fact, we did nothing but drink and watch hockey all day. I was on the floor, she was on the couch and I think I may have ended up with bedsores from the lack of activity.

Breakfast (we never made it to the marshmallows)


I’m so glad this holiday season is done. My liver is even more thankful. Another thing I’m thankful for is that throughout my drunkenness, I was still more sober than Don Cherry and I declared so on Facebook, though I have no recollection of it. Youtube Coach’s Corner for January 2nd and holy hell, he’s a fucking mess. Even I noticed.