Prince

I debated writing anything about Prince's Saturday performance at Myth Nightclub. I mean, it's Prince. And I am, by no means, a music reviewer any more than I am a restaurant or theatre or festival reviewer. I would say, moreso than a reviewer, I experience certain things and I want to share them. I write to share, not to warn, or complain, or even to overly promote. Over the 6 years I've lived in the Cities I've slowly, sometimes painfully, built a little world for myself peppered with pretty awesome experiences.  And it's those experiences I want to record for posterity.

So, in the interest of sharing, here we go...

Prince has been on my bucket list for a long time.  Knowing that he was from Minneapolis, that his presence was inextricably woven into the music history of the city, just made the thought of seeing him seem all the more elusive.  When he played at the Dakota recently I was crushed to learn of the exorbitant ticket prices and just resigned myself to yearning for some magical moment when I'd happen to be at some late show at First Ave and he'd pop up and decide to play. A quasi-ridiculous daydream, I know.

I thought the Myth show would be another such heartbreak when the $280 tickets went on sale. That is 25% of a round trip ticket to London. There is no part of me that can justify $280 for a ticket, not in this paying-off-student-loans period of my life. And I will admit there is some part of me that was bit peeved at the Purple One for being so inaccessible. At some point Prince was a poor, scrappy kid buying records in between paychecks, right? He wasn't always so removed from the rest of us.

But mere hours before the show, some cheaper tickets went on sale for $140 and $99.  I opted for the cheapest ($112 with fees) and still shut my eyes when I hit "submit" on the payment button and hoped however they were dividing these strata of tickets would make sense.

I was solo with my ticket (a dear friend went for the stellar ticketing and probably felt Prince's sweat on her at some point) and I wished we'd gotten there a bit earlier just so I could have had a closer view from the beginning. I'm very short so standing behind 3-4 rows of people (is everyone in Minnesota 6'2?) was just not going to work out. I could see snips of someone (Prince?) for the first 2 songs and then decided to risk it and check the balcony for the second time and see if I could squeeze somewhere with a better vantage point. Success! I landed tucked in a Rachel-sized space dead center of the balcony with a perfect view.

I know other reviewers have said Prince never really took off, but for me, as someone who'd never seen him live and never dreamed I'd get to, the experience was just impossibly fun.  Swinging from newer songs (Screwdriver)  to some classics (When Doves Cry, Purple Rain with Bobby Z on the drums), the pendulum moved from pounding tempo to piano-laden croons. I suppose that could be called uneven, but to me it was just a perfect taste of everything I love about Prince. Unpredictable. Kind of weird. Guitar licks and vocals that just make your jaw drop in their intensity. Slow jam instrumentals that confuse you until you place the tune (Even Flow by Pearl Jam). It just all felt perfectly Prince to me, which was all I wanted for my $112. And I suppose what I loved the most was Prince's warmth, his constant shout outs to his "hometown," his heartfelt admiration for Bobby Z's lifelong loyalty as they played Purple Rain together. Prince seemed happy to be onstage, happy to introduce his new band, happy to show off a bit, and happy to sit back and let the crowd sing along. And for me, that happiness was definitely infectious.

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

Lola's Lakehouse

Waconia is not my normal stomping ground by any stretch of the imagination. For better or worse, I stick to Minneapolis for the most part, although I'm always anxious to explore outside my adopted Metropolis.

As my folks now live far (!) out west of the Cities, on a lake, with all that Minnesotan lake-ness, we found ourselves without a viable restaurant on Memorial Day. With so few choices in small towns, you have to drive to other small towns to find food.  But I was happy to land at Lola's Lakehouse with a view of Lake Waconia and a warm dish of steamed mussels to share.  As we had a vegetarian in our midst, it was great to see so many vegetarian options, and not just your standard veggie burger fare but additional flatbread choices.

After sharing a delicious bowl of mussels steamed in a white wine sauce with fennel and leeks, my sister's first mussel experience, I settled on the walleye cakes and a salad. I loaded those walleye cakes with Tabasco, but I think that's a personal preference.  The flavor and crunch of the cakes was great and the size of the plate was really perfect for supper when accompanied by the house salad (sucker for shaved parmesan). My mom enjoyed the fish and chips and I may have hypothetically, and happily, stolen a healthy chunk of one filet.  Lightly battered, these are just a solid rendition of the classic and a perfect vehicle for that malt vinegar.

I can embrace the smaller town life of my parents, as long as I can enjoy a view of the water and always head home to the city.

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

Maeve

The more I wander around the Northeast Minneapolis Arts District, the more time I want to spend there and the more frustrated I am with myself that I've avoided it these last several months.

After a recent trip to Dangerous Man Brewing I had an hour to kill and a stomach to fill  (poetry!) so I wandered over to Maeve, a lovely cafe just kitty-corner to the brewery. I wasn't starving but once I looked at the menu I kinda wanted them to deliver my lunch for the rest of my life.  And I could have a nutella panini for breakfast?? Really? Man, I love a good sandwich, with or without chocolate hazelnut spread.

No nutella this time, and no sandwich, but Maeve's Chopped Salad, which was a crisp, light, filling plate of greens, ham, herbed chevre, and warm buttered bread. I admit that just seeing the herbed spheres of chevre made me decide that from now on I need to serve chevre that way. So cute and pretty and fun to eat, not to mention delicious.

I sat at the window at the high seats looking out over the sidewalk.  A pile of magazines and newspapers were stacked to my left and another diner sat alone to my right, typing away on her laptop.  This is definitely a place one can enjoy a solo trip, but it's a great place to just chill and chat with friends, cozy and comfy, with a small but satisfying menu that should make even the pickiest sandwich connoisseur happy.  And I bet those sandwiches wrap up real handy if you want to bring them over to Dangerous Man...

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

Dangerous Man Brewing Co.

I frequented Dangerous Man twice last week, which says something in and of itself. The first time I was traveling solo and stopped in to pick up a gift card and figured, heck, I should just have a beer. It was a Wednesday around 5 pm and the place was pretty quiet, with a handful of people scattered around, a couple in suits clearly stopping in after the office, and others with laptops nursing a study-supportive brew. I asked for a recommendation and was directed to the Chocolate Milk Stout, which clocked in at $3 for a 10 oz pour.  I'm not usually a stout person, but sometimes a dark, creamy beer seems like the best possible remedy to rainy day doldrums.

This beer is amazing! Really. Amazing! Like I said, stout isn't my thing. I tend to like a lighter, sharper flavor, but everything about this beer made me want to keep drinking it forever. I was sad to walk away after only one 10 oz, but could also see what a happy addition Dangerous Man must be to the neighborhood.  If I lived nearby I'd be tempted to close out every workday (and weekend, right?) with a quick stop at this cozy, welcoming corner locale in Northeast Minneapolis. The taproom is closed on Sunday and Monday, but you can prepare for the Monday gloom by picking up a growler for home.

My second trip to Dangerous Man was on Friday night with a group of ladyfriends and the place was busy but not suffocating. We opted for a few chairs on the long picnic table in the center of the room and as is the nature of sitting down at a table across from strangers, we struck up a conversation with the fellas across the table.  Dangerous Man seems to be the perfect place for easy conversations with friends and strangers alike, everyone smiling at the beer in their hand, everyone toasting the end of a week.

They don't serve food at Dangerous Man but they're walking distance from some great places and they encourage you to bring food inside with you. Next time, I'll be stopping by a to-go order of fish and chips from the Anchor before settling in for another Cream Ale (my choice on night #2), a perfectly light and summery ale that just begs to be sipped in the sunshine.

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

Regla De Oro Gallery

Until I spoke with owner, Jessica Smith, I thought Regla De Oro Gallery was a new addition to the Lyn-Lake community. Not the case, this lovely shop simply relocated to its new digs next to Eat WSK this past November. A move of only a couple blocks from its previous location, it was still brand new to me and I imagine others in the community will similarly kick themselves for having missed out on this gem until its move.

But better late than never, folks! Specializing in local artists and fair trade gifts from over 30 countries, this Ten Thousand Villages affiliate is the perfect spot for gift-seeking.  And, if you're like me, a quest to purchase a couple of gifts will likely end up with a selfish purchase, too.  I sometimes avoid shops with the word "gallery" in the title, largely because I assume such shops are well out of my predominantly frugal price range. But Regla De Oro has price points to satisfy every wallet. The adorable finger puppet set pictured with this post was less than $20 (a gift for a one-year old's upcoming birthday) and the earrings (yeah, those are totally for me) were less than $15.  But if you want to invest in jewelry or art with a steeper price tag, there were lovely pieces on display that would suit your fancy.

Rotating local artists and donating a portion of proceeds to arts education and social justice non-profits, Regla De Oro is a conscientious shopper's dream.  So next time you're poking around Lyn-Lake looking for gifts for loved ones (or yourself), stop by and support our local artist community and Regla de Oro's impressive list of fair trade gift communities.

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

An llliad

In An Illiad at the Guthrie, Stephen Yoakam brings to life the rage and resulting agony of the oft-relived battle between Achilles and Hector. He delivers it with an impassioned plea to the audience to "see" it, and not only the "it" of that long-ago battle, but the "it" of its tragically familiar premise. Rage, violence, the expectation of battle, the hubris of war, pride before the fall, all so easily packaged in some Homeric tale. Easy to shove aside, easy to ignore in its pertinence to the modern day.  But Yoakam does not allow the audience to escape the correlation he insists upon.  This isn't a long ago story, or a story of men unlike the men and women we know today.  It's the same story, retold a million times. 

The bulk of the 100 minute play allows Yoakam, The Poet, to use his storytelling gift to describe the environment of Troy and Greece, their path to war, and the violence that ensued. Yoakam is white-bearded and wears layers of well-worn clothing that could place him in ancient Troy or the hills of modern Pakistan. He's tired of the story and yet cannot avoid telling it. At key points he pleads for understanding from the audience, and when he struggles to find it, the harshest correlations begin. These boys sent to war are the same boys to war everywhere. Thebes or Kentucky. 

In one particularly harrowing moment, a tired Poet, collapsed on an overturned bucket, laments the list of wars that have destroyed lives since the Achilles-Hector battle. A list that sounds distant, perhaps, until the wars get closer to the modern age, until the wars listed involve our own country. 

Despite the jarring truths, at no point was I exhausted by the heaviness.  Yoakam's delivery is so well balanced, so perfectly teetering between brokenness, resignation, and a desire to impart the past to new ears, that the audience doesn't feel punished by the barrage of human failings. The Poet's words never feel accusatory, only sad.  Even when the Poet points out how quick his audience is to claim they would never succumb to such rage, even in those pointed statements Yoakam's Poet deftly shines a light on our frailties, our Achilles heel perhaps, but does not seek an apology for that frailty.  That's the sadness of it all, that resignation to a human condition built for violence despite the lessons of so many ancient battles. 

The poet often calls on the Muses for help in the telling of his tale, and often mocks the way the Gods screw absolutely everything up for we mere mortals. But the power of the Poet's story, his bloodthirsty depiction of rage before and against the Gods, gives him a certain God-like quality, as well. Some lesser God, maybe, not mischievous like the usual Hermes messenger, but a foil to that mischief, a messenger from the Gods who is tired of his role, tired of telling a story whose ending will never, ever change.

An Illiad plays in the Dowling Studio through May 26.

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

Zen Box Izakaya

I'm a frequent Guthrie-goer, and so have enjoyed many a meal at Sea Change, Kindee Thai, and Spoonriver. And with this agonizingly long winter, I've avoided wandering the extra couple blocks to Zen Box Izakaya.  After last night's meal, I realize my weakling Southern aversion to a cold jaunt robbed me of many tantalizing opportunities at this gem.  I'm committed to making up for lost time!

These plates are made for sharing, a comment voiced on the menu itself as well as by the servers, and while I could have easily hoarded a couple of these plates to myself, I have to agree.  The best method for enjoying the many options is to embrace the tapas-style serving and share, share, share. This would be a great place to come if you have different dietary needs in your party, too. Lots of veggie-friendly options for those that don't want to eat the animals. 

We started off with a beer flight of three selections, Surly Bender, Hitachino, and Sapporo. Heavens, how have I never had Hitachino? Note to self for future excursions.  The mixed drink list was enticing, too, with options incorporating lychee fruit and other yummy things.  Someone needs to report back on those.  Or, maybe I need to report back. 

We shared four dishes (aside from a scoop of Sebastien Joe's Surly Bender to finish things off): sashimi duo of salmon and tuna, takoyaki, spareribs, and shumai tempura (not pictured).  The sashimi duo ($14) was just perfect, and provided a larger portion than I expected. I would happily have that and a bowl of soup for lunch sometime, preferably sitting in the sunshine-ready tables outside. 

My favorite of the evening, takoyaki ($6), is a ball of battered octopus with Japanese mayo, Tonkatsu sauce, aonori (blue seaweed), and bonito flakes (thin dried flakes of smoked bonito fish). It sounds like an awful lot to be going on in one little ball, but man, it's perfect. Steaming hot when you take that first bite, the octopus flavor and mayo are a perfect combination of salt and sweet. 

The shumai tempura ($6.5), shrimp dumplings, were an excellent next step in the meal. And the fact that I enjoyed them speaks volumes considering I'm really not a tempura fan usually. Some tempura batter is just too heavy, masking whatever is underneath.  But this had a very thin coating of tempura and you never lost that fresh shrimp texture and flavor. The house-made ponzu sauce should be bottled and sold. 

We finished off with the heaviest plate of the meal, the miso pork spareribs ($6), braised in a white miso with daikon.  By the time we received this dish I was pretty full, so my friend had the luck of eating two ribs to my one, lucky duck. These were deliciously tender but with just enough oomph left in them to keep them attached to the rib (I don't like that "falling off the bone" business).  The white miso was light and soft, and my friend, who normally dislikes miso, raved. 

The service, too, matched the expert dishes.  We let the server know we were headed to a show and she and the rest of the waitstaff, made sure we had plenty of time for each dish with a comfortable window to walk the 2 blocks to the Guthrie. And we even figured out (for next time) that the parking across from Zen Box is significantly cheaper than the ramps across from the theater. All the more reason to make this your next stop before taking in a show!

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

Senor Wong

A roommate of mine in college used to make her own kimchee. I remember thinking the glass jars looked to contain mangled body parts, wholly inedible. It's so sad to know I lived for months in the company of homemade Korean food and never asked for a taste. 

Nowadays, I take every opportunity to inject more kimchee into my life. Lucky me, Senor Wong was a recent stop for a late supper. We walked in around 8:30 on Saturday so finding a table was no problem.  We split three dishes, a Korean spare rib appetizer, a bowl of crazy noodles (not pictured because it came out fuzzy), and a banana-soaked donut-y dessert that I loved but cannot remember the name of...

All three choices were good, especially with my requisite dollop of the table side red pepper/chili oil.  The kimchee was flavorful but not as kicky and spicy as some others I've enjoyed.  I don't mind adding my own heat, but a little more zing would have been cool.  The spare ribs were tender and deliciously spiced, a great way to kick off the meal.

The crazy noodles are a perfect-for-sharing bowl of rice noodles with ground chicken and garlic sauce, similar to a pad thai in some ways, with less sweetness. Again, I added a good deal of the chili oil paste to this dish.  

The dessert was great.  The waitress described it as a type of donut, but I didn't feel like it had any distinct donut flavor (there seems to be a Minnesotan attachment to that mini-donut flavor, which I find odd).  I was risking it with a donut anyway given my general aversion to donuts (I know, weird). This was lighter than I expected and the roasted bananas were the perfect sweet finish. If all donuts tasted like this, I might give them another go. 

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

May Day Festival

It's fitting that the first sunny, spring-like, maybe-summer-really-will-come type of day was home to In the Heart of the Beast's May Day celebration at Powderhorn Park. The trees are still brown, the grass just fighting to turn green, but you could tell from the sheer numbers of festival-goers that nobody cared, as long as summer is officially on its way. 

Kicking off with a parade and ending at Powderhorn for the May Day ceremony, complete with welcoming the sun's journey across the lake, revelers oohed and aahed at the Heart of the Beast's puppetry creations. And I, more than once, regretted wearing just a boring outfit.  If ever there was a time to braid ribbons into my hair, paint rainbows on my cheeks, and wear a lime green tutu in public, this would have been my moment.  At least half of the crowd took their outfitting seriously, bursts of color and flowers bedecking every bit of space. Even if you're not the type to go all out and dress as your favorite animal, any festival-goer would appreciate the excess of people-watching opportunities. 

Several food trucks were in attendance, as well, adding to the state fair-esque choices of corn dogs and cotton candy.  Booths line the lake set up for various non-profits and left-leaning political movements (some of which I were unaware existed), highlighting, perhaps, the population most likely to attend the festivities.  But regardless of your spot on the political spectrum, there's joy to be found in sitting on a patch of grass and watching some puppetry in celebration of winter's end and summer's promised arrival. The theater's beautiful creations alone were reason enough to brave traffic for a view of the parade and/or a spot on the Powderhorn lawn. 

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite 

Walker Art Center

I rarely wander to the Walker Art Center. I'm much closer to the MIA and the MIA's perpetual free-ness tends to win out over the Walker when I'm itching for visual inspiration.  But I'm trying to take advantage of the Walker's free first Saturdays more often and the promise of jewelry artists selling pretty things this Saturday was the added oomph I needed to get me there.

My knowledge of art largely hits a wall around the 1940s or so. Before that, I'm likely to stumble upon pieces, movements, and artists I recognize. There's a familiarity with Impressionism, Dadaism, Cubism that lends itself to comfort, largely because these are the movements I remember from my liberal arts education. After WWII, however, I'm in a maze of stimuli that require constant reference to the explanations on the wall.  This doesn't bother me.  In fact, it's probably why I find modern art infinitely more fascinating than prior periods.  The ingenuity and irreverence, not to mention the scope and sheer size of some works, tends to stop me in my tracks.  There are pieces that resonate immediately, and pieces that even upon reading the artist's intent, I still struggle to "get" on any level. But that's what makes the wandering worthwhile. Inspiration mixed with confusion is not a bad state of being for a lazy Saturday afternoon.

The Walker is free the first Saturday of the month and Thursday evenings. Take a wander!

Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite