Happy St Patrick's Day

Happy St. Patrick's Day. I celebrated this week by refurbishing a Bodhran, a traditional Celtic drum that I had originally purchased on a trip to Ireland. The heat and dry air of Las Vegas dried out the original goat skin drum head and so I removed it and replaced it with a skin I purchased from Wooden Voices in Madison, Wisconsin. It was a very rejuvenating task for the drum and me. There really is nothing quite like having hands on with wood and skin. The project took nearly a week due to the fact that I let patience and deliberation have major roles in this production.

I soaked the new skin in a large bucket and set about removing the torn skin from the drum. During the course of the project I realized that there were several parts and pieces of the original drum that I wanted to upgrade and replace. Brass tacks were replaced by screws on the tuning ring. Old paint was sanded away and the bearing edges sealed with polyurethane wood sealant. It took three tries before I was confident that the skin would stretch and dry correctly. The first time I set the skin on the frame and simply observed as it dried for 10 hours. It dried unevenly and ended up with waves and wrinkles. For the second try I added another coat of sealant to the bearing edge and re soaked the skin. I stretched the skin again, this time I placed an 18" bass drum hoop over the edge of the drum to help give some continuity to the stretch, but by doing this I learned that the drum frame itself was a bit out of round and the gaps needed attention special attention. I kept tension, stretching it by hand continually for about 2 hours until it had formed closely to the frame and began drying. About 8 hours into the second dry, waves again formed on the head at the points where the bass drum hoop wasn't tight against the skin and frame. I removed the skin and soaked it one more time for a final stretch.

For my final try I took the skin from the tub of water I squeezed excess water with my hands and then set it flat on a beach towel. I rolled the skin into the towel in layers to further remove excess water. This time I stretched the skin entirely by hand and continually for about an hour until it was uniformly formed across the frame and down the sides. No waves and no lumps on the skin. After a period of drying and a bit more stretching that lasted another hour, I stapled the head to the frame in a double row about 3/4 " from the top edge and cut away the skin below the staples. Watching the skin dry the first two times I saw that it dried unevenly because it may have been thicker in some areas, thereby holding moisture longer than other, thinner parts of the skin. I solved this by letting it dry in a dark place and checking every 20 or 30 minutes to see if any waves or "baggy" areas formed. When they did, I took the drum and put it in front of a fan with the air concentrated on the moist areas. I felt the head to determine if it was drying evenly and the tension was uniform. This took another hour or so to make sure that the thicker, wetter parts of the skin dried out at the same rate as the rest of the skin. Finally, I reattached the decorative ribbon over the staples to give it a bit of a regal "finished" look.

Now get me a Guiness, a beautiful lass and a pub session and I will be set.

bjk.

The Lounge

Someone recently asked me what a Lounge was?

The lounge is a place in a hotel where the bar is located, is staffed by a bartender that knows how to say just enough, is populated by travellers lonely, anxious, or both; living their lives based on the hope that where they are is not what they truly are. Passing time becomes a pastime. Often a pianist or small band will lend their souls to the mood, conjuring some entertainment value and trying for tips. By the time most entertainers arrive at the place in their lives where they take a lounge gig, they don't have much left to give, singing sad songs and living the blues (even the songs with upbeat lyrics and music have a way of sounding sad when sung in a lounge by a man whose life has been wrung out of him). Me or someone I know is appearing nightly, two shows on weekends, trying to find new lyrics to the same old songs, living for tips and hoping beyond hope that a fresh new melody will finally show up.

BjK.

Lately I am having trouble with bartenders. I am not sure if they can't hear me, understand me, or if some higher power is intervening and steering me down a road away from ruin. A few weeks ago my friends Debbe and Lee Sussman invited me to attend the opening of the new art mall at Neonopolis in downtown Las Vegas (which is VERY cool, by the way). In addition to the live music and general gala atmosphere there was a portable bar set up. I asked the bartender for a martini, very dry. I watched as he meticulously poured about one oz. of vodka and another ounce of vermouth into a shaker with an ill fitting lid. A few half hearted and messy shakes later I was treated to about an ounce of a very vermouthie tasting concoction in a plastic cup. Lee began to protest, but i waved him off and solved the problem by buying another shot of vodka and tossing it in the cup to dry this one up a bit. I tipped heavy just for the sheer entertainment value of an inexperienced bartender struggling with a leaky cocktail shaker. About half way through the drink my tongue accepted its fate and allowed my brain to enjoy it's part of the bargain. The artists and their work are all impressive and enjoyable. My taste in art, however, does not appreciate my income and so the walls at home remain white. The bartender remembered the tip and made up for the first disaster with a generous pour when I went back for a "Vodka on the rocks."

Wait, there's more...

A few days later I met a friend for dinner. I got to the Hofbrau House a short while before him and sat at the bar near the door, ordering a small size seasonal brew. The bartender quickly became involved in a mini drama with the draught pressure. The tap spewed plenty of froth and not much liquid, so he began filling several glasses, apparently hoping that they would settle into an amount equal to one beer... so I thought. I appreciated his approach to the problem, but it had taken 5 or more minutes and I still didn't have a drop to drink. He had already wasted quite a bit of beer trying to angle the glass, and several other techniques. I told him that I didn't mind a good head on a beer and I would take the one that was settling out if I could get it right away. His distress was immediate and obvious. I told him that I just really wanted to start drinking a beer and I wanted the one that had been sitting in front of him to start sitting in front of me. He poured a bit from one glass into another, which again spilled a good share into the drain. I figured that he was not getting what I was telling him, so I decided to make it clear. Crystal clear! I said, "here's the deal. I want the glass that is sitting there in front of you. I want it even though it isn't full. You can top it off when one of the other glasses settles and then I'll have that one too. I don't mind that half of it is head. Can I just have that one right now?" He was perplexed and seemed a bit peeved. Still though, he didn't make a move. Finally I stated "Can you just give me THAT beer, right now? I'll pay for it and we can figure out what to do with the other glasses later." With that he pushed the one glass in front of me and in another quick move he dumped the other two glasses into the drain. My jaw dropped and I asked him why he threw the contents of the other glasses away when they had already come such a long way in the process? He realized his mistake. (You understand that I would have waited for the other glasses to settle if only I had one in front of me to drink.) He muttered something about the way that the tap pours and has to fill up a glass so that the computer can register the charge, and blah, blah blah. After 8 minutes I had half a beer. It took a while to finish. I got one more and the same problem happened, only filling the glass with half beer, half foam. This time he served it right up - fresh and cold. When I got the tab to settle up at the bar before heading in to the dining room, he had charged me for two. I paid cash and I tipped him heavy. I'll consider it my tuition in the school of "You might think that you're helping, but you are really just confusing a guy that is in a corporate situation designed to look like a real beer hall, caught between getting you your drink and trying not to get bitched at for pouring too much beer from a keg that is obviously being kept at a temperature that is too cold to allow it to be draughted properly." Mmmmm. Dinner was much better.

And still that isn't all...

The other night I was a bit frustrated so I thought that I should treat myself to live music. I got to Boomers at about 12:30 am to see my friend Elvis Lederer and his band. I asked the beautifully tattooed bartender if she would get me a Jagermeister on the rocks. After a minute she came back to report that the bar was out of Jager. Is anyone else starting to feel that maybe I should just quit drinking?

But it is still not over...

I was going to get a bite to eat at Firefly on Paradise. The food there is always good and the service is fast and friendly. Again though, the bartender thing. It had been a busy week (as busy as it gets for someone that is looking for work and trying to keep the skills sharp and the resume current) so I thought I would treat myself to a martini. In a place that deals with hipsters and beautiful people in abundance a martini should be less than no problem, right? Well, I ordered an Absolute martini, straight up, one teaspoon dirty and very, very dry. Shaken not stirred. I began to admire the scenery at the bar so I didn't watch the drink being made. It came quickly and with only one question, "how many olives?" The martini glasses at Firefly are large and the pour is a good one. The only problem was this martini came very, very, very wet. So much vermouth that it was undrinkable except if it had been ordered as a tall glass of vermouth with a splash of vodka. I moved from the bar to my table in the dining room before i realized that the lesson I was learning, was not about communication, it was about determination. I decided that I wanted to have what I wanted and I deserved to get what I ordered, so, waste of alcohol be damned, I was taking that drink back. I explained the deal to the bartender and he was immediately apologetic, quickly giving me a Grey Goose up, shaken and one teaspoon dirty. Delicious. At last. I tipped heavy.

So to sum this up. In a martini, DRY means very little vermouth. VERY DRY means less than that and BONE DRY means, well, you get the point right? With beer if YOU are having trouble getting a pour, you give me whatever you can - right away, even if it is mostly head. You tell me there's no charge for the taste and you set about fixing the problem you are having with your tap while I enjoy my beer. Also, I am from Milwaukee, so you never, EVER, throw beer away, especially while I am sitting there watching you. And finally, when it comes to Jagermeister... Don't run out! Make your own if you have to.

BjK.

Pho Kim Long

Las Vegas offers so many good restaurants that it is hard to keep up with the new establishments and still have days to have a meal at old favorites. There are a few places that I return to often. Pho Kim Long began as a small restaurant with Vietnamese noodle dishes in a small space in a strip mall facing Spring Mountain Road on the west side of Valley View. Over the years it has grown and now occupies 3 or 4 times the space it originally did. I have been a fan the entire time. I get there every few weeks and made a stop again last night. I go there because the menu offers a fairly wide variety, the food is fresh and it is served FAST. The fried won ton is my weakness and I start every visit with an order. Maybe someday I'll get another appetizer. For now I am still committed to the generous portion of meat and vegetable, crispy brown dumplings. The dipping sauce is part of the compulsion and I keep it on the table when the waiter clears other dishes and brings entrees. I ordered the pan fried Sea Bass and shrimp with crispy noodles. Only problem was, I ordered using numbers and not the awkward pointing at the menu technique, so I ended up eating chicken with crispy noodles. That's a 57, not a 56 i guess. The bass was lightly breaded and tender. Three nice size pieces. After a quick taste to determine spicy heat I avoided the chili relish that came on the plate. I really wanted to enjoy the flavor of the fish and so I did, only dipping one or two bites in the sweet and sour sauce that came with the wonton and trying a bit of soy sauce on another bite. The bass tasted great. I needed to be a bit careful to avoid some bones, but having been raised by fishermen and a devotee of fresh fish, it was not a problem. The crispy noodles are a treat no matter what is with them, so I finished off the chicken, baby bok choy, carrots and fried noodles without giving my mistaken order a second thought. Now I have an excuse to return; crispy fried noodles with shrimp. Soon.

BjK.

Bacchus and the Jordan Cabernet

Bacchus works in mysterious ways. He can provide joyous bounty and improve our lot in life, but he may also delude the eye, disrupt common sense and can keep us from attaining that which we desire most. I wanted the status and pleasure that comes from buying and drinking a nice bottle of red wine. I decided to buy the most expensive bottle I have ever purchased outside a restaurant and so I headed to Lee's Discount Liquor on West Flamingo. I am still trying to fathom the mystery that made it quarrelsome to buy this bottle and difficult to drink it. I love my neighborhood and the businesses that populate it. I patronize my favorite restaurant frequently, but unfortunately they do not yet have a liquor license. I wanted to treat myself and friends to a nice bottle of cabernet so I needed to bring my own for dinner recently. I admit that I am not a wine snob and really not very sophisticated when it comes to wine, but I do know what I like and I do know that the Jordan winery in the Alexander Valley had several excellent years with it's cabernet. At Lee's I found a 2004 Jordan for under $50 so I splurged. At the register there was a line and when I finally got to to cashier he seemed to have a problem scanning the bottle. A longer line was forming behind me and eventually the clerk turned his LCD toward me (and the others in line) and asked if I knew which bottle I had chosen? I looked at the label and told him that it was the 2004. The clerked looked at me and then pointed to two possible choices on his screen. Mine was $49.95 and the other was considerably higher. He had no idea which was which so he put it on me, seeming to accuse me of somehow switching bottles!? Again he asked which I had picked. I have to admit that by then I was feeling a bit embarassed. Pick up your little microphone, I thought, and call someone to do a price check. "It's the 2004" I reminded him and said that I was sure that it was from the bin marked at $49.95. Again he eyed me and said "well, I guess I'll believe you." I shrank. Thanks for the vote of confidence buddy. A line of my neighbors, none of whom I'd ever met stood behind me and also sized me up. I handed over my credit card and wished that I had gotten the 129.95 bottle, just to save face. The clerk then told me "I'll need to see some I.D." Even though this is a routine request, his tone was again accusatory. I complied and then I asked to see his I.D. "What?'" he asked incredulously. "Why not, you're the one who doesn't seem to trust anyone," I said. The staredown did not last long and I won. A hollow victory nonetheless. The next few uncomfortable moments of the transaction passed quickly and quietly. I walked to the door with what should have been a triumphant purchase, instead feeling like a guy that should have just grabbed a box of Gallo and been done with it. No status, No pleasure, Seventy five dollar VISA charge... priceless. Well, it gets better. I got to the restaurant and after a 15 minute wait beyond the time of my reservation my friends and I were seated. I had spoken very highly of the food at this tiny place and my guests were excited to enjoy it. The waiter commented very positively on the bottle of Jordan and opened it to breathe. I am going to make a long story short. After we finished a bottle of Chardonnay we waited for someone to clear our glasses and get new ones for the red wine. Our dinner was on the table - cooling. After 3 obvious attempts by the waiter to ignore our situation I asked him to change glasses for us. He said "normally I don't do this, but for you... " Now I was embarrased again, but also confused. I will remind you again that I am not a wine snob, but I do know that it probably isn't the best idea to put a $50 bottle of red wine into glasses that contain chardonnay and backwash, right? "Bacchus!" I said to myself in the same tone Jerry Seinfeld used to say "Neumann," on his show when he'd realize the source of some grief. As usual the food was wonderful. We did not stay for coffee or dessert. My guests insisted on paying and as is their habit, they were generous to our waiter. I also thanked him and palmed him $20 hoping to buy back some of the status I assumed would come with the bottle of Jordan. The wine was fine. The Jordan Winery had provided excellent grape juice, but Bacchus would not let me enjoy it fully without exacting some mysterious emotional price that I had not or could not pay, either to the cashier at the liquor store or to the waiter at my favorite restaurant. There is no moral to this story. I only tell it to cleanse myself and share. There are other places to buy wine. There are waiters in other restaurants that will be happy to bring me a clean glass. Bacchus, we shall meet again.
BjK.

King Day (and the end of an era)

The beauty of this Monday is twofold. First we celebrate Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and his legacy of courage and inspiration. Second, we end the Bush era of government in the United States. I noted the first just after midnight as I sat with a friend at King Tut's on Charleston at Jones for the Sunday night Jam Session. I was reminded of the second by the "fabulous" Ms. Conception as she finished her number at the SINDAYS promotion at Krave. At King Tut's I got to sit in with the house band and a guest singer playing Honky Tonk Woman and Walking the Dog (with the intro, I might add). As I left, I wished my friend "Happy King Day." I glanced at my watch and realized that if I made the lights I could catch the show my friends Pete and Minta continually remind me of and invite me to see at Krave on Sunday nights. I got to Krave just in time to see the coolest, funniest and best interpretation of a song featuring the word "pussy" that I have ever seen. Ms. Conception is truly a spectacle and spectacular. After she finished the song (and with her merkin still in full view) she announced that "tonight we celebrate the end of Bush!" It goes without saying that Ms. Con made more than a few comments about shaving bush. The whole bush thing was outrageous and hilarious. And it made me think that as we celebrate King Day and the end of the Bush era and look forward to the promise of a new administration, maybe we can finally live in a nation were all the musicians and drag queens will be able to join hands with the politicians and religious fundamentalists and walk together as brothers and sisters in freedom and justice. When we let freedom ring, we let it ring from every part of every city, in every part of every state in this great nation and we recognize that the day has come when all of God's children, Black, White, Brown, Red and Yellow people, Jews and Gentiles, Christian, Muslim, Atheist, Hindu and Buddhist people, Gay and Straight people will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old negro spiritual: 'Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!'

(Thanks to Dr. King for inspiration and paraphrase in the last paragraph)
BjK.

Haiku

Sadly I am sick
Frustrated and home in bed
I practice Haiku

Chicken Soup for soul
Chicken Soup for cold and flu
Chicken Fried I crave

But seriously...

Overcast sunrise
Last of the night revealing
Sleep has not yet won