Why I Will Never Post a Negative Review

Before I head out for a low key New Year's Eve with friends, full of laughter, I'm sure, but involving no new-to-me restaurants that may/may not result in a post, I thought I'd address a question I've received more often in the last few months:

Why don't you ever write negative reviews?

There are a lot of great blogs and reviewers out there who review restaurants/plays/insert-cultural-excursion-here with a discerning eye and impart their opinions positive or negative.  Some of these reviewers have made a career (how cool is THAT?!) out of these opinions, and some just enjoy painting a picture for readers of their experience, whether or not that picture is a happy one. However, I started this blog in large part as a venue to make recommendations to friends.  I like to go to restaurants, run races, check out plays, go to concerts, and instead of filling emails with long lists of possibilities when friends ask me about favorite spots/activities, I thought a blog would be an easier (and more amusing) method of answering those inquiries.

So because this blog was always an extension of my "oh-my-word, you MUST check out this restaurant I went to last night..." dialogue, it has been shaped similarly.  I get no joy in offering negative reviews. My view is that any restaurant can have an off night.  Having waited tables for years, I'm positive every waiter/waitress has their share of off nights. So when I do have experiences that I'd prefer not be repeated, I just don't review it.  Odds are, unless the experience was somehow offensive in its awfulness, I'll be back to give it a second shot anyway. Why obsess over one visit that ended poorly when there are more enjoyable things to discuss?

I offer a few more criticisms when reviewing theater productions.  I'm comfortable doing that because it's rare that I attend a show that I wouldn't recommend on some level.  If I saw something I truly hated, again, I'd just refrain from blogging about it.  So much of these experiences are shaped by personal preference, I'm open to the idea that what I loathe, someone else might love.

And while some of this always-positive angle is self-serving (I just don't LIKE negative reviews, they just feel boring to me), part of the decision not to lambast an experience is because social media has become more powerful than I'm comfortable with sometimes.  I'm just a young, professional, single woman who likes going out and experiencing her city. I'm not a chef, nor an actress (though I like to cook and I did act a great deal in a past life), and my race-running prowess is often graced with the caveat that I'm slower than the majority of runners. All that to say, I'm not an expert on any of these subjects.

A blog lets me feign some level of know-how or know-of and that's more responsibility than I'd like to accept. Some of my experiences are great, and I love giving shout outs to those establishments.  But when my experiences leave something to be desired, I would hate to know that statements I make in frustration could damage the reputation of hard-working restauranteurs, race directors, actors, etc. My voice is a quiet one in the blogosphere, but it takes so little these days to damage a spot's ability to attract guests. A couple angry Yelp reviews, a few Tweets of ire, and all of the sudden Mom-and-Pop corner bakery is empty on Saturday morning. That's not anything I want on my conscience. The men and women behind the places I often review have embarked on a career I admire but doubt I'd ever have the guts to pursue.  I recognize that and offer a sincere high five.

There are simply too many restaurants, races, plays, concerts, museums, art shows, festivals, and other doodahs to enjoy in these Cities to waste my time bemoaning the ones that don't live up to my expectations.

And with that explanation as my midnight kiss to this blog, I'm looking forward to lots of "oh-my-word, you MUST try this new spot I found, race I ran, exhibition I saw, band I heard, food truck I tried..." posts in 2014!

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The Mason Jar

After a beautiful afternoon of snowshoeing, all that's desired is a cozy dinner spot and a glass of wine. As I'm a big fan of the Minneapolis Cupcake location, I was excited to give the Eagan Cupcake location's adjoining restaurant, The Mason Jar, a whirl.

Filled, of course, with mason jar light fixtures and kitschy mason jar art, the space is embracing a literal decor, which comes off warm and a bit cheesey (and who doesn't love cheese?). Not a bad set of adjectives for a spot with a pretty killer happy hour special of half price beer/wine and $6 pizzas.  My friend and I each had a glass of wine, a cup of soup, and split the Ms. Piggy pizza and our bills were just under $12 apiece. That is really tough to beat! The pizza was delicious, as was the vegetable soup, and the service was good, especially considering they're likely still working the kinks out at such a new location.

There were several items on the menu that I tucked away as justification for later visits (multiple hot dish options, fun appetizers, housemade pot pies).  Being the companion restaurant to the always yummy Cupcake bakery (link here to my review of the Minneapolis location), you'd expect great things out of any baked recipe, so I'd wager a glass of wine on their having a pretty great pot pie crust.  Add to that an impressive beer list with local favorites and the promise of cupcakes for dessert and this new spot is a fun, mason-jars-are-just-too-adorable addition to the restaurant file.

Phantom of the Opera

In a new staging made famous by an impressive chandelier and significant pyrotechnics, the star of the Phantom of the Opera is still the organ-laced, dramatic score.  Andrew Lloyd Weber's most famous work is restaged by Cameron Mackintosh (also responsible for the Les Mis restaging) and all the darkness and heavy-handed romance is still there for your viewing pleasure, and I say that with nothing but affection. 

Mark Campbell's Phantom is perfectly oppressed and oppressive, making him not only a pitiable "creature" but an overbearing villain master-minding his ingenue's rise to fame out of a quasi-creepy obsession.  Julia Udine is a sweetly powerful Christine, bringing the audience to a series of "Bravas" after several of the famous songs, including "The Phantom of the Opera" and "Think of Me."  Supported by an  Ben Jacoby's excellently devoted lover, Raoul, and a perfect diva in Jacquelynne Fontaine's Carlotta, Campbell and Udine are given all the necessary support they need to soar through Weber's masterpiece.

The set seems to be a magical music box of its own, opening this way and that to reveal the nooks and crannies of the opera house.  I was most impressed by the appearance of stairs leading to the Phantom's lair, which immediately reminded me of Harry Potter's Hogwarts staircases. The use of shadow and statues set in relief against twilight skies provided the perfect backdrop for the Phantom's sad but beautiful story. 

Phantom plays at the Orpheum through January 5th.  And students/educators, don't forget your chance to score $25 rush seats 2 hours before every performance!

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The Buttered Tin

This place would have been a dream come true when I worked 2 blocks away in downtown St. Paul! Alas, The Buttered Tin made it's debut a couple of years after my stint on the other side of the river. I'm sad to miss out on what would have been daily proximity, but I'm happy to find another cozy brunch spot to add to a growing list of favorites.

I trekked there on an icy Sunday after church and despite a white knuckle drive from Minneapolis, the warm, bright interior helped me forget the negative windchill outside. At noon on a Sunday, we waited 45 minutes for a table of 3, so keep that in mind if you're in a rush.  The shop is small so aside from one small bench, those waiting for tables will be standing.  But once I had a mug of coffee in my hand, I didn't mind. And when I vaguely recall sunnier days, I can imagine a summertime wait outside being just fine. Perhaps those days will return. Perhaps...

I ordered the tuna melt and was very happy with the choice.  No overly mayonaisse-y mess here, hallelujah. Tuna mixed with olives and peppers and covered with gruyere on housemade focaccia? Yup. That's how that's meant to be done. As happy as I was with my choice, eyeballing another table's biscuits and gravy and my friend's beautiful hashbrowns made me second guess my choice of lunch over brunch fare. Just a reason to go back, I know, and the tuna melt was reason enough.

Service was great. Warm and casual, and quick once we were seated, our waitress was rather perfect and I'm bummed I don't remember her name. She deserves a hearty, "thank you!"  We never had to ask for our coffees to be warmed up and on more than one occasion I wondered, "when did she refill my water glass?" That kind of service just made me want to sit there and chat all afternoon, maybe grab one of those red velvet cupcakes. At the very least, it made me anxious to return.

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Born Yesterday

Contrary to popular belief, A Christmas Carol is not the only production currently making a home at the Guthrie. Born Yesterday is playing through January 5th and it's well worth a visit on its own merit and not just as choice #2 should the rush seats for Christmas Carol sell out.

A dramatic comedy set in post-WWII Washington, D.C., the show's central arc is Pygmalion-esque. A dim-witted damsel comes under the tutelage of a kind and somewhat lovesick glasses-wearing reporter (Paul), all for the benefit of strengthening a facade of propriety for the damsel (Billie) and her not-husband (Harry), whose business depends on Washington favors.  That underbelly of Washington muscle is almost its own character, standing just behind the curtains, smirking at an uncivilized mess. 

Pygmalion roots it may have, but this is no My Fair Lady.  Jeff Still plays Harry with a deft hand, able at once to both patronize and adore his mistress.  He is cruel and yet, on occasion, seems to convince himself and the audience that he does love her.  The trick, of course, is that he loves her wound up in a tight little cage, wings clipped, with only a mink coat here or there to blind her from the misery of her life. It's no wonder Billie's often chasing a bottle around the hotel room, a beautiful set perfectly depicting the decadence of $235/night in the late 1940s. 

As the books and Paul's sincere attention start to open Billie's eyes to her trap, some of the hilarity is brushed aside for more shadowy conversations. Political corruption, freedom, education, the rights of men and women...all the heady topics of the day are seemingly encapsulated in that shiny hotel room. Alexis Bronkovic, as Billie, and John Patrick Hayden, both in their Guthrie debuts, are excellent.  Bronkovic's Billie is crass and flirtatious and wholly ignorant not only of Harry's shady dealings, but also of her own misery. Hayden's Paul manages to be brilliant without steamrolling his student.  Despite questions that would make any teacher's eyes roll ("What's a Supreme Court?"), Paul provides encouragement without being patronizing.  Most importantly, he guides Billie on a path of her own, never lecturing, but only providing the means by which Billie can educate herself.  She is her own rescuer, making her a damsel that eventually grows tired of her distress. 

Rounded out with a strong supporting cast of a self-loathing lawyer and a corrupt senator, Born Yesterday is a fast-paced, funny, emotional ride.  So don't forget it in your rush to see the Christmas classic, this one may be headed to classic territory, too.

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Dulono's Pizza

Dulono's has been my go-to on lazy weekend nights for a few years. With beer, pizza, and bluegrass starting at 8pm every Friday and Saturday, it's often where I head when I'm anxious to get out of the house but don't have a hankering for exploring new-to-me locales.

The music is sometimes hit-or-miss for a true blue bluegrass lover. Some nights are better than others, but even the less exciting acts are good background ambience for beers and pizza in a cozy, kitschy booth. I've almost always stuck to the House Special pizza (pictured), because I'm a sucker for olives, but I bet all the specialty pizza are worth a whirl (although I can't get behind the cheeseburger-themed one, there's something about pickles on pizza that disturbs me). I split a Medium, which was plenty for two people, but having a cold, leftover slice of this in the morning would not be a bad thing.

Family-friendly, reasonably-priced, and quick to deliver those pizzas to table, Dulono's is a welcome dose of ease, lacking in any pretension, in the often over-priced and crowded Uptown haunts. Just around the corner from Cause Soundbar, Huge Improv Theater, and the Jungle, Dulono's would be an easy supper to start off a night of further entertainment, too.  No reservations necessary (do they even take reservations??) but for more well-known bluegrass acts you'll want to get there early for a good table.

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Tribes

My first thought in seeing the set for Tribes in the McGuire Proscenium at the Guthrie was, "I want to live there." Walls plastered in books, floor to ceiling, with a grand staircase not unlike the ones housed in the great libraries of the world, it seems a book lover's paradise.

It takes a mere 2 minutes to realize, however, that the family within these book-blessed walls are not dwelling anywhere near paradise. Flinging obscenities and insults at one another as casually as other families pass the mashed potatoes, a table of wounded or wounding parties is the audience's first glimpse of Nina's Raine's raw, poignant exploration of what it means to belong. While Christopher, a father of so little warmth one wonders if we would have rather had cats instead of children, alternates between mocking his daughter's dating choices and degrading one son's vocational failures, our protagonist sits quietly at the end of the table, occasionally asking for clarification on the origin of the table's anger.

Billy, our protagonist and the youngest of Christopher and Beth's children, is deaf.  But his family, and most vehemently his father, has raised him in the world to be something other than deaf.  Never taught to sign, Billy lipreads and evaluates expressions in order to translate the world around him.  Repeatedly he asks his family what is going on, and repeatedly he is lovingly dismissed. "It's nothing." "Not important." Even before we meet the woman that will break Billy out of his communicative vacuum, the audience can sense that there is a well of feeling in Billy being casually brushed aside. Repeatedly.

Not only surrounded by the book-laden walls, constant reminders of a mutual language without mutual expression, the sound designers also awaken us to the sound inherent in deafness.  Not a blank, empty silence, but a constant roar and scratch emerges, made more poignant by Sylvia's comment that she never knew how noisy it would be to be deaf.

Sylvia, played beautifully by Tracey Maloney, meets Billy at a party. Avoiding the peril of being in a room of deaf signers and being unable to communicate, Billy's conversation with Sylvia, hampered though it is by Sylvia's failing hearing and Billy's inability to sign flows surprisingly well. Sylvia straddles the hearing and non-hearing world as a woman with deaf parents who is slowly, herself, going deaf. Her ability to communicate fluently with the deaf community, a community Billy's father has looked upon with disdain, fascinates Billy.  But behind the apparent attraction, there is a hesitance in Sylvia, perhaps from that first moment, as she finds herself moving more fully towards a world she wishes she would not enter. How do you mourn the loss of your hearing in the company of those who've never had it?

As Sylvia and Billy's relationship strengthens, as Billy is heard by those outside his family, we watch his family crumble into a mess of missed cues, mixed messages, and stammering (literally, in the case of Billy's brother, Dan) attempts at communication. Sally Wingert, as Beth, tries to soften the barbs flung between her husband and children but as we listen to her clumsily describe a novel she has no clue how to write, we're left with the suspicious that she's equally clueless as to how to manage the language used and abused in her own home. And while Billy's sister, Ruth, played by Anna Reichert, comes to the realization that her vocal talent is no match for the operatic talents around her, Billy's brother, played by Hugh Kennedy, struggles with voices of a different kind.  Dan, especially, decays with the absence of his brother.  Insomnia and the incessant voices in his head (more of the anxious variety than schizophrenic) reduce him to the stammering boy he was as a child.  Apparently, despite Billy's frequent dismissal, his form of communication and connection was a necessary balm for his brother's wounds.

As the play reaches its crescendo (I won't give it away), every character, at some point or another, seems to be saying, "you're not listening to me, you're not understanding." Billy's defiance, his brother's brokenness, his father's desperate justifications, and Sylvia's sad admission, all echo the desperate need for connection within those book-laden walls.  And upon curtain, we're reminded that even those who loved us first and may have done their best to love us right, may still fail us.  But if out of that failure comes a desire to listen and to speak the same language, then maybe the failure is not fatal.

Tribes is a brilliant, emotionally raw, often funny exploration of the language we know as a family, the tribes we have no control over and the tribes we choose. See (and hear) it. Tribes plays at the Guthrie through November 10.

*Just a note, lots of cussing, so if you're sensitive to that, take note.

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