JD McPherson with Farewell Milwaukee at First Ave

This was my first time at First Ave solo. I've been dozens of times with dear souls in tow. I've seen shows I've loved, shows I barely remember, shows that marked the beginning and end of wonderful things.  But I've never stood solo, beer in hand, rocking out the way one only does in the company of strangers.

I debated going by myself. It wasn't intentional, the soloness, just the result of a last minute scheduling snafu. But I'm thrilled that I swallowed my pride and drank my beer by myself. Farewell Milwaukee was fantastic, the lead singer gushing about having watched his idols play First Ave. The crowd was a happy, almost-Friday crowd and I felt perfectly comfortable being the girl who squeezes into the best spot on the floor. If there's only one of you, you can squeeze wherever you like!

But the joy of the evening was JD McPherson and Co. There is no weak link in that band. It's just a treasure trove of talent (yeah, alliteration!). And at its center is JD, whose voice is equal parts Elvis, Johnny Cash, and Etta James (no joke). It's like bourbon with an undercurrent of rock and roll mashed potatoes. Stick to your ribs nourishment in musical form.

I loved every moment of my solo First Ave experience. This just adds to my general impression that this non-Minnesotan can be content in this chilly city, home to venues like First Ave that overflow with warmth, the pulse of guitars, and music worth a solo hunt for a parking space. Rock on.

Beaujo's

I went to Beaujo's for the first time on a first date over four years ago.  I wore a coral-colored sundress and my shoes hurt.  I've remained friends with that first datee, much to my happiness.  And I'll be forever indebted to him for introducing me to this cozy little gem, even if the romance never quite grew legs.

Beaujo's has never been a place I ate a solid meal.  While I know they serve sandwiches and flatbreads and such (and given my luck with their lighter fare I'd imagine their denser dishes are equally yummy), I've always felt more inclined to soups and breads and cheeses when nestled at a table with friends.  I've sipped glasses (too many?) of reds while having painful heart-to-hearts with girlfriends. I've dunked crusty bread into thick broths while bemoaning the death of chivalry. And, most recently, I've escaped the chill of the late autumn air with a bowl of ginger squash soup and a pile of tapenade and goat cheese-smeared crackers.

Beaujo's, quite simply, is a place I end up when I want to laugh, gossip, cry, flirt, or relax.  It's a place that feels like a happy nook within which to experience the perfection of conversation + food. A nook to make memories in.

Pig and Fiddle

I have been wanting to try out this "younger sibling of the Muddy Pig," Pig and Fiddle, in Edina for ages. It says something about my corned beef sandwich that I plowed through it before remembering to take a photo. Hence, a photo of my empty plate with a few remnants of the pile of crispy frites I doused with vinegar.

I'm always a sucker for pub fare. Memories of my summer studying in Bath (which has its own Pig and Fiddle, where I had my first Strongbow) make me a softy for vinegar-soaked fries, a ploughman's plate, and a pint of something smooth.

We lucked out and tested the pub's flight of California beers, courtesy of Rubicon. The stout, in particular, was fantastic.

The menu is chock full of stick-to-your-ribs fare and the rabbit stew alone will inspire my return. But the focus here is a thick list of unique brews, peppered with lots of local favorite breweries like Surly, Summit, and Fulton. Happy hour lets you shave $2 off those beers, making test-driving a few new brews a little less painful on the wallet.

A great addition to the 50th and France area!

Quang

I've had a rough couple of weeks.  In the midst of the less-than-ideal turmoil, happily, I have been surrounded by good friends who encourage me to eat things other than my depressive staple of oatmeal and sweet potatoes.  And that encouragement, for whatever reason, often leads me to Quang.

I first tried Vietnamese food while living in New Orleans, where my two dearest friends and I would tuck into a neighborhood Vietnamese joint and bemoan our student loans, our spawned-of-Satan professors, and the general exhaustion that saddles every law student.  We went there when we were sad or sick and we went there when nothing else on the planet sounded remotely appetizing. It was comfort food, those big, steaming bowls of pho or messy piles of noodles with rooster sauce.

Quang has the same feel for me.  It's a place I go to when I'm craving something gentle and soothing, something that's warm and hearty but not heavy.  It's a place I go when my nose is stuffed up or I'm feeling heartsick or I'm lonely or I just want something simple that tastes like the other places I've lived in and loved.

I went to Quang tonight with a dear friend, and while we skipped the best spring rolls in town (a mistake, surely), we settled into our bowls of happiness with the fervor of those who've walked a few blocks in the chilly, autumn air.

Quang provides the type of food that perfectly underlies comfortable conversations, conversations born of long friendships and new connections.  The pho is hot, so demands a slow dip of the spoon, and slinging noodles with chopsticks just slows a body down.  The pile of goodies you dump in on your own whim, the limes dancing with the jalapenos and jockeying for attention before the bottle of sriracha.  All are a reminder of every time I've sat in a booth and nursed a wound with a spoonful of pho.  And, as a logical foil, they are a reminder of every time I decided to stop being sad.

And I'm not the only one who seeks out Quang when they're down and out.  While we were leaving, I overheard a snuffly-nosed fella ask for a table of one.  He said he wasn't feeling hot, so he needed some soup.

Yes you do, kid. Yes you do.

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

Jesters Comedy Improv

I don't tend to think of improv when I think of Mexican food, but there happens to be a groovy group playing in a back room at Ol' Mexico in Roseville. So with Skinny Margarita in hand (man, those things are good but pricey, $11??), I settled in for a round of laughs from Jesters Comedy Improv.

If you've been to Comedy Sportz or seen Whose Line is it Anyway?, you know the drill, although Jesters does not divide the performers into teams like the aforementioned.  The Jesters performers take turns participating in a series of improv games, all dependent on the audience's provision of ideas culled by the Host.  The team played well off each other, with some shining moments coming from The Tall, Skinny Guy That Looked Like Buddy Holly and the Host, who kept the show moving despite a few recommendations from the audience that were a bit boring. Improv needs an audience, preferably a happy one.  Ol'Mexico provided a packed room of ready-to-laugh people, which allowed for an energized show worth the $10 price tag.

The Cities don't lack for improv opportunities, but it's these tucked-in-a-back-room-at-a-Mexican-place-with-decent-salsa shows that I really love finding.  With a rotating cast of players (and audience members), no show is identical, so if you're looking for something to do on a Saturday night, take advantage of the margaritas and the $10 entertainment.

Jesters takes the stage at 7:30 p.m. on Saturdays at Ol'Mexico.  The night I went the show was sold out, so calling ahead for reservations is a good idea.

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Good Earth

I've never had a bad meal at The Good Earth, whether I'm at their Edina or Roseville location. I've had a mild addiction to their turkey meatloaf with red pepper sauce and gingered yams.  It's one of those dishes that has kind of ruined me for most purposes at the restaurant.  I rarely deviate from the turkey meatloaf route and despite thoroughly enjoying that dish (obviously...mmm, red pepper sauce...) I regret not being more adventurous with their menu.

After my rare deviation last night, I'm even more frustrated with myself that I haven't tested the waters with other dishes.  The trout with cilantro-pumpkinseed pesto and butternut squash called my name, in part because butternut squash and I are currently in the throes of a passionate love affair. I'm not sure if a person can overdose on butternut squash, but if it's possible, I'm close. And I was also intrigued by the cilantro-pumpkinseed combination as I couldn't quite imagine cilantro flavors being embraced by the earthiness of pumpkin and butternut.  But the tinge of bitterness in the kale was the perfect foil for the cilantro and the plate ended up being a perfectly light, perfectly autumnal evening meal. 

Suffice it to say, the turkey meatloaf is going to have to take a spot on the back burner for awhile.  Clearly, I have some menu exploring to do, of which the trout was simply step one. 

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Monster Dash Half-Marathon

It's not every day that a grown woman has the opportunity to dress up like a leopard and run around in public.  A few days before Halloween, I joined a host of SuperGirls, 80s fitness instructors, cats, dogs, mice, Dr. Seuss characters, and at least one complete set of presidential hopefuls for a 13.1 mile trek through St. Paul.

This was my third year doing the Minneapolis Monster Dash, which hosts not only the half but a 10 miler and 5K, as well.  One of the bigger races I do in town, the Monster Dash also happens to be one of the best organized.  However, I do miss the course from a couple years ago, when we finished around Lake Harriet.  I just find that finish to be infinitely prettier than the Science Museum ending of the current course.  I imagine the newer route has a lot to do with the size of the race, hard to squeeze all those folks around Harriet.  And the 5Kers, at least, get to enjoy the lake.

I'll keep running the Team Ortho races, pricey though they may be, as they remain the best organized races of this length in town.  And I'm a sucker for groovy swag, this year's finisher jacket is going to be a fall favorite.

Follow my runnin' on Twitter @TheMinneapolite