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Last week we got a solid 24 hours of rain, uncommon for this area. In the middle of the storm, I was putting up cages around the tomato plants (which unfortunately are being attacked by flea beetles – hopefully they survive the assault) when I noticed two medium mushrooms peeking out from the undergrowth near our plot. They looked promising enough that I consulted our Colorado mushroom book when I got home. I had it narrowed down to either Shaggy Parasols or Shaggy Manes by the time I told Sam about it, and suggested he stop by to pluck them if he felt reasonably sure we could eat them without a trip to the ER. (Regular disclaimers apply: mushroom hunting is FULL of risks, you should only pick ones you are certain are edible, & consult professionals as needed!). Sunday, I find him sautéing up a couple slices of the one of the two now humongous mushrooms. Turns out they were indeed Shaggy Parasols – a good one for beginners, since it has some pretty good tests to ensure it is not the most similar poisonous mushroom. These guys, due to the rain and the rich soil we found them in; measured a good 15 cm across, and maybe 8 cm high. We took one to a friends’ BBQ, where it responded well to a mixture of soy sauce and red pepper flakes on the grill. The second one (minus the sample Sam took out, as seen in the picture) we used in one of our favorite dishes: a traditional risotto, based off the one used by Alton Brown. While it’s unlikely you’ll immediately have access to a shaggy parasol of this size, most mushrooms can be used in this recipe.

Shaggy Parasol & Asparagus Risotto
6 cups vegetable broth
1 cup dry white wine
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 cup finely chopped onion
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 cups Arborio rice
5 ounces Shaggy Parasols, sautéed and coarsely chopped, approximately 3/4 cup
7 ounces asparagus, cooked and cut into 1-inch pieces, approximately 1 1/2 cups
4 ounces cheese (we use a combination of parmesan, sheep’s gouda, and gruyere), approximately 1/2 cup
1 teaspoon grated lemon zest (if you have it)
1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

This is a four pan dish, so clear the stove.

PAN #1:
In a medium saucepan with a lid, heat the vegetable broth just to simmering. Keep at a near boil.

PAN #2 (main pan):
In a large 3 to 4-quart heavy saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the onions and a pinch of salt and sweat until translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the rice and stir. Cook for 3 to 5 minutes or until the grains are translucent around the edges. Be careful not to allow the grains or the onions to brown.

(Pans #3 & #4 are for sautéing the mushrooms and steaming the asparagus, respectively)

Reduce the heat to low. Add the wine and enough vegetable stock just to cover the top of the rice. Stir or move the pan often, until the liquid is completely absorbed into rice. Once absorbed, add another amount of liquid just to cover the rice and continue stirring or moving as before. There should be just enough liquid left to repeat 1 more time. It should take approximately 35 to 40 minutes for all of the liquid to be absorbed. After the last addition of liquid has been mostly absorbed, add the mushrooms and asparagus and stir until risotto is creamy and asparagus is heated through. Remove from the heat and stir in the cheese, lemon zest, and nutmeg. Taste and season, to taste, with salt and freshly ground black pepper.

It’s true…two new mohawks, cut for Memorial Day on our vacation. I wish I had pictures – but alas, didn’t think of it. I’ll try to track some down from the two new mohawk club members. Suffice it to say; both enjoyed a greater self confidence and attractiveness to others following their sleek new haircuts.

Our vacation was really, really great. Saw old friends, made new ones, had my mind cranked open by some fantastic art and discussing it with the giddy but extremely modest artists, fabulous food, and lots of kind folks from south of here. Wish I hadn’t been bitten by fire ants all over, but hey, you can’t win them all.

One last mention – I found this article from Melbourne, Florida. The zoo there is opening a new Visayan warty pig exhibit in a week, and they are offering free admission to those who attend sporting a mohawk similar to the hairstyle of the pigs. Yet another benefit!

My brother and I have a trivia team. We don’t play every week, but we try to keep up an appearance, especially because we find it to be fun, the bar it’s at is a good bar, with great food & drink specials that night, and the trivia is generally a good time. That’s not to say we’re good. In fact, we harass each other regularly to find more people for the team who can excel in these areas: sports, cable TV shows, movie Westerns, serial killers, and the other topics we just don’t have a lot of knowledge about. He can get the top grossing movie questions perfectly, and I can get the chemistry and literature questions just as well, but that doesn’t cover a lot of ground. This week, however, we not only convinced several people to join us, but several rounds went very well for us! You might not expect that I would rock rounds about rap songs as related to graphs (no I’m not kidding) & U.S. state trivia, or that my little brother would know so much about Chuck Norris. Good to know we both have marketable skills!

The other thing that makes trivia fun is that we have a waitress whom is really sweet and very cute, and would make a great gf for said brother. As far as I know, this hasn’t yet happened, but she has come up to him at his place of work, and chatted with him asking why she hadn’t seen him at the bar in a while. In fact, she smiles and grabs our shoulders when we walk in, which are all good signs! I’ve made it very clear he’s my brother, so he just needs to make a move. I’m willing to take the risk that things go sour, and we’re awkward at trivia forever after…but for now, I’ll just take advantage of the pub nachos and enjoy having a brother that can do the chug off when I get all the answers right and we tie with another team. That’s awfully handy.

In the last month or so, Sam and I have explored and embraced three unique new tastes. In my case, I discovered a love for coarse-ground mustard (especially on a soft pretzel) and that Kalamata olives are actually pretty similar to capers, which I already put on a surprising number of foods. Sam is pushing me to accept green and black olives into my heart, but let’s not go crazy here…black olives simply don’t impress me on pizza, which is where I usually encounter them. And as for green olives, well, this is sounding more and more like a plot to get me to join Sam in his petty crime of stealing one or two olives from grocery stores’ olive bars. Kalamatas, however, I can incorporate into interesting dishes.

Sam, on the other hand, has a different new condiment love. It’d be an exaggeration to say he puts it on everything, but pizza, soup, pasta, bagels, chik patties, and maybe salads at least. It’s called Togarashi, or sometimes Shichimi Togarashi, or sometimes “Japanese 7 Spice”. In short, it’s a spicy powdered mixture that includes chiles, salt and seaweed. We discovered it through its requirement in a ramen-based soup, and since then, it’s dominated Sam’s foods. While it falls within my spice tolerance, I think most foods don’t have to have a delicate combination of chiles and seaweed to finish them off. Hey, to each their own.

No, I’m not moving. But one of the downsides of Boulder right now has been lack of access to a community garden, and that’s about to change. I got the call today that I have a bed in the Fortune Garden, one of the community gardens that I am told is difficult to get into. This is because it is located in one of the oldest, most esteemed and expensive neighborhoods of Boulder – and there is little turnover for both real estate and garden estate. I weighed the benefits of the two nearest gardens (this one’s closer, more intimate, and better protected from wildlife) for a couple months before requesting my top choice. I’m hopeful it’ll be as good as I expect.

It’s not the fairest thing to expect community, friendship, drinking buddies, outdoor activity, grassroots activism and oh yeah, fresh vegetables and herbs from a simple 100 square feet, but my last plot, at a meager 50 square feet did just that. I miss my fellow gardeners from the humble Clemens garden very much, and hope I’ll find interesting gardeners at this new location. It’s a little further away, but that’s all the more reason to become more comfortable on my bike and to prepare seeds for spring. It’s time to read up on what Colorado’s growing season will and won’t let me do (damn the desert climate), and figure out what seeds or seedlings to order.

The other benefit to Boulder’s community gardens set-up is that they have made the gardens part of city-owned land, protected from development. My last garden existed at the grace of two, not just one, private property owners, and came under threat of condo development during my time there. While it was inspiring to see how our garden group came together to argue for keeping the garden (successful so far), it’s a lot less stressful to know the city’s got your back. Plus, for a ludicrous sum, I could take a course this summer in bee-keeping, which is awfully cool. I just have to figure out whether it’s hundreds of dollars cool.

My favorite christmas present this year came and went a couple days early, but was entirely worth it. Three friends from STL (who, humorously, just moved to STL a year ago on our strong encouragement!) planned their drive to San Francisco for Christmas to cross our path in Colorado – and the predicted snowstorm that weekend meant that they would be best off staying put at our place for a day while the blizzard passed over the mountains. As we expected, they were able to spend the snowy day off the roads, hanging out with us, and the next day I-80 was at least driveable in their little Honda Accord.

I was thrilled with the opportunity to show our friends our place, neighborhood and what kind of life we’ve set up since leaving the Midwest six months ago. They were enthusiastic and excited about all of it, and we had a great time mixing with the drunk crowds on Pearl Street, the Christmas shoppers around town, and just relaxing before the rest of their drive out to the West Coast. Had nothing else happened for Christmas, I would have been satisfied. I only hope that the one person driving back in a week or so makes her journey touch down here again – a dose of STL is a welcome break in the snowy Colorado winter.

For a long time, I’ve enjoyed learning about where our food comes from and which ways of obtaining it are good for us, and good for the environment. I really dislike taking single words like “organic”, “natural”, or even “fresh” at face value to reassure my choices and dismiss my responsibility to know what I’m eating. (An unfortunately popular technique especially in this city). Usually there are few or confusing regulations on using these words, so I find that keeping up on current research and reading full labels and ingredient lists gives me a more accurate picture of what’s the better choice. (Some of the most fascinating stuff if you’re interested comes from Michael Pollan’s book The Omnivore’s Dillema and this blog on nutrition and individual foods: http://fanaticcook.blogspot.com/)

Side note: actually, that blog is even more broad. It’s also about cooking, news from the FDA and USDA, and other changes in the American nutritional scene. I suggest everyone check it out, as the blogger has much experience with the study of nutrition, and before that, a career in engineering. The writing covers a lot of territory without it being too dense. I don’t always agree, but it certainly allows one to make better informed decisions about food.

All of this leads up to what I did this weekend. My family has a long standing tradition of giving away food for the holiday. Nothing strange about that, across the country people give cookies, pastries, cheeses, wine and a number of other foods to friends and neighbors at this time of year. What’s weird is the effort my parents have put into producing a food item that they can give an entire story to and even now take great pride in the process, repeating the story at the drop of a hat. For all their effort, they give an American food standard: wheat bread.

It’s uncommon to know the full path of a single food product, and even here I can’t tell you backstory about the honey, yeast or salt in the bread. I can tell you, however, exactly the origin of the main ingredient, wheat flour.

One of my uncles is a farmer whose primary crop is wheat (by volume…it’s very difficult to make a profit on wheat without being an industrial sized farm, so heifers are the more necessary ‘crop’). Most every year, my dad goes down to help him bring in the winter wheat crop, and brings back a big box of unprocessed wheat grain. Once back at my parents house, he grinds the wheat in his own hand-turned grinder. My mom takes the wheat and turns it into bread, which is then delivered hot and fragrant one weekend in December to friends and neighbors.

This year, I’m nearby, so I was quickly recruited for this year’s process. My mom has a problem with her arm currently that makes it pretty painful to complete manual labor like kneading. Therefore, the bread making became a two person process – she combined ingredients in the mixer, and turned it out into a bigger pile of flour in a bowl where I took over kneading the bread. After letting the bread rise, I rolled each batch out, separated it into quarters, and rolled each up into pretty loaves to rise again and bake to a golden surface.

There are a few inconsistencies here. Those who know me are probably suspicious at this point that I would spend any time, much less a full day involving 8 batches or 32 loaves of bread-making in the kitchen. WHY would I be so involved in this process? OK, I admit, the first reason was guilt. It’s been years since I helped with this, and there is nothing wrong with my arms, so why wouldn’t I help with the labor intensive parts? Secondly, though, it’s important to walk the talk. I don’t know where every food I eat comes from, but helping others to have a relatively healthy food item that we do know a lot about is a good thing. Thirdly, now’s a good of a time as any to learn the techniques inherent in making homemade bread. It certainly wasn’t explicit in the recipe, so hands-on learning helped me create muscle and sensory memory of what the bread feels/smells/looks like at each stage if done right. And fourthly, it made me more popular with both family for helping out and neighbors for delivering two of the loaves that warm up a snowy winter night.

About 8 years ago, living in this same city, I had a great idea. Why not pick a film from the 80 or so films at the Denver Film Fest, and invite a group of friends to go along? Unfortunately for them, I had several friends who agreed with this plan, although my taste in film was not tested. The result, a truly awful film called Frankenstein’s Children was so bad that I tried to sleep through it to lessen the pain. I was unsuccessful, and my friends let me know afterwards in no uncertain terms that the poor quality of the film did not escape their notice either.

Since then, I’ve made friends with several film buffs, and had opportunities to see lots of really good, really interesting films – including seeing at least 10 films at last year’s SLIFF. (You rock, Rob). I’m MUCH better at picking films, and my friends in Colorado have short memories, right?

That’s what I told myself as I again organized a group of friends to see a film at Denver’s film fest last night. Everyone was excited, and I was especially glad to find friends who are also interested in film. Besides, I chose a series of shorts, all about adventure. Everyone knows shorts cover your bets better – not ALL of them can be truly bad.

No sooner had we joined the line, however, before my former roommate mentioned Frankenstein’s Children. In fact, her memory of it was even sharper than mine, remembering another friend who came up with many ways to describe just how bad the film was, and just how awful every aspect of the production was. She even admitted a little concern that I was picking films again. Great. The reputation followed me.

Luckily, once all nine of us got in and seated, the similarities stopped. While three of the shorts were OK, the other three were especially funny and well done, and we only argued about which one was the best. (The Windfisherman gets my vote. And not just because the lead character had a mohawk. As Ryan said, “Whimsical AND charming, bitch!”) So I have high hopes that I will get more chances to drag friends to new films…and only get minor teasing in the end.

There was good and bad to this year’s Halloween. The bad was that this was the first year in the last decade I have not held a Halloween party. It wasn’t practical this year, which crushed me, but I am focusing on next year’s celebration, hopefully in our first real estate (we’ll see). The other bad was not being around STL friends, but again, little to be done.

The good was having friends here who also love Halloween. Sophie held a pumpkin carving party, and I didn’t do too badly, though my bats & moon did not compare to some of the other guests’ art: everything from the Mario Bros. mushroom to Charlie Brown to the “annual poor taste pumpkin” – the Rodney King beating. I didn’t ask, so no explanation is offered here.

We also had a great time at a very crowded and celebratory party in Denver, where the best costume was undisputed. A salad bar complete with dressing, cherry tomatoes, and the popular croûtons, which, in their bin location on her backside, made it look like guys were grabbing her ass all night, even though they really were just grabbing croûtons. For all her hard work, and frequent, loud offers to “toss your salad”, she won a cruiser bike. Very impressive.

Halloween itself, my brother dropped off a jack-o-lantern (he’s really REALLY good at pumpkin carving) for me. He’s good enough that one can request their own design, so I asked for a picture of Jack Skellington climbing up the curly hill at night. He scoffed at my request, telling me it was too easy. Disappointed, I shrugged and waited for whatever he came up with. The finished pumpkin isn’t just Jack Skellington…it’s Jack and Sally, climbing the hill, which is covered in icicles. After setting up all the jack-o-lanterns, we walked downtown to strut in costume and admire the handiwork of other Halloween lovers. We saw Waldo, Grover, Oscar, Ms. Potatohead, plenty of standard-issue devil girls and pirate boys, the ubiquitous guys-with-dicks-in-a-box, the cast of Wizard of Oz, Dwight Schrute, zombies, and a jockey. And as we walked back, we came across two people in chicken costumes, hand-in-hand, walking home, clucking softly at each other. Sigh. I got my annual fix. What other holiday can provide all that?

One of the most enjoyable part of my recent travels was developing my new hobby, helping others embrace the mohawk. Of course you already know that mohawks, besides being an attractive and hassle-free (should you choose a short version) hair style, attract many members of the opposite/same sex, and clearly state your intention to not belong to the crowd, but yet, kinda belong to the crowd…the cool crowd, not “The Man” crowd, of course.

I cut my first mohawk in May, on a whim with borrowed materials. My friend crouched over a trashcan to catch his hair, and I used a water fire extinguisher to clean him off. All considered, it turned out great (see below). It goes without saying that shortly after receiving his new haircut, he met a girl, they fell in love, and they are flying back and forth in a long-distance relationship even now. True story.

I took with me on my travels all the needed materials to cut more mohawks: clippers and guards, sheets to protect the client and the ground, a chair, hair clips, germ-killing solution, broom and dustpan, and self-made guides so each person can choose 1 inch, 1.5 inch, 2 inch, or the ridiculous 3 inch wide ‘hawk. (I do this for free, so should you feel the need for a ‘hawk, let me know.) I made up clever signs illustrating several happy mohawk-wearers, and waited. Luckily, my selected spot was near a very social bar, filled with friends who eagerly directed curious mohawk seekers my direction. Over two days, I cut 6 mohawks, and 1 bihawk (under protest – it is NOT a mohawk!). I wish I had pictures to show you, but so far most of the pictures were taken on cameras not my own, so it’ll have to wait until I have shots of said artwork. I had two happy helpers at different times as well, which just illustrates how much fun mohawk-cutting is as a hobby.

Funnily enough, Sam was gone for all of this time, and didn’t get to see my handiwork, though several of my clients stopped by to see me later that week, shyly pleased with the many compliments they had received since changing their hairstyle. Since Sam seemed a little skeptical that I could have gotten so much experience under my belt so quickly, I set up an appointment for a friend in Colorado once we returned. His mohawk is displayed to the right, and he is the envy of all his co-workers:

Of course, once Sam got home, it was his turn.

I love my new hobby.

Let me recommend buying a new digital SLR before going on vacation. It means those gorgeous, full-of-light shots you expect out of a nice dSLR can be tried out almost right away.

I took an intermediate digital photography course last month, and it became rapidly clear that while I have a very nice point-and-shoot camera, there are some pretty cool things that mine can’t do. At the same time, a photographer friend was selling their digital SLR in order to make way for a newer, nicer digital SLR (hey, if it’s how you make your living, you use very nice equipment). Sam was nice enough to go in on it with me, both to make it more affordable, and because he too has some photography techniques he wants to try out. I’ve been spending a lot of time with it so far, and since the coast of Oregon is already beautiful, all I had to do was capture it.

Also, this will allow me to improve the pictures I take of fire performers. This coincides nicely with a trip this week to do just that. This makes my summer of travel much more fun and rewarding.

I don’t think I need to explain further. Except yes, he is holding a shiny Washington Dollar coin. My stomach hurt from laughing so hard…

Everyone knows moving is stressful. From reading Sam’s last post, you know we are now in Boulder – explaining the differences between here and STL would take much, much too long, but assume that there are many differences, the most difficult to adjust to being the smaller population and the difference in how unused land is seen (urban wasteland useful for art projects and homeless squatting vs. open space to buy up and preserve for the prairie dogs).

Since the stress is a given, add on top of that the situation that one of us is starting a new job at a green collar start-up. This job requires working very late nights, and that means we see very little of each other right now. This had all been discussed back before we moved, but in practice is harder than theory. So, last night we made efforts to repair the lack of time together.

After three weeks living with a very kind friend, we moved Sunday into a sublease apartment that will serve us well until we buy a house. It’s great, but we’re not even remotely done unpacking, so the mattress is set up in the living room, surrounded by boxes and partially assembled furniture. When Sam got home after 10pm last night, we were not ready for bed, but basically without amenities or entertainment. I mused aloud how dinner and a movie would be nice, but none of our stuff was set up and I haven’t bought any food of substance yet. Sam thought a moment, and pointed out that his laptop probably had 2 hours of juice (charger was at work), so if I could dig out a DVD, we could watch something. Luckily, we both are frequently in the mood for Jackie Chan, and both (don’t make fun) like Rush Hour 2. I realized despite the lack of food, I did know where some ramen was in our boxes, and that I had successfully unpacked all the wine, liquor, and beer. A few minutes later, we had a satisfying combination of ramen, cheap white wine I must have bought four years ago in STL, and Jackie Chan fighting in a bathrobe. All this on a mattress in the middle of a living room floor.

Sigh. We both felt much better after that.

Sometimes, when days are cold, and nights are long, people have to pamper themselves.

Take a moment for yourself, and relax.

Some people wrap themselves in a warm blanket, hold a cup of steaming hot cocoa with both hands and relax with a good book propped upon their knee. Others put on a favored movie or record, and allow themselves to take a luxurious nap. Bubble baths and aromatherapy candles may also be included.

I’ve got a new guilty pleasure, one I’ve enjoyed a few times, and will likely become a habit of mine.

I find a quiet place, settle myself down, put on a pair of headphones, blast the glitchiest drum and bass and breakbeats I can get my hands on, and read The Economist. Lately I’ve been happy listening to The Freestylers (particularly their live albums, like Fabric Live 19), and Pendulum’s album True Colours or Live on Breezeblock. But I’ve recently gotten back into some of the new releases by Bassnectar which are incredibly good. His beats are raw, the bass is grinding and the limited vocals are radically leftist. Lorin AKA Bassnectar is from Santa Cruz, CA, which is great, because I fondly remember hearing him spin early on at Moontribe beach parties. These days he’s a very accomplished producer, and is touring like crazy. I chatted with him briefly after his set here in St. Louis a few days ago, and he was a real pleasure. He obviously loves what he does and has a great time doing it. His sets reflect his energy, and are always special.

But remember, this isn’t just an opportunity to bang some beats, its about the reading material too. The Economist is one of my new favorite news rags. It’s a weekly news publication, but is very unique. Nearly every article is written in an editorial fashion, and they don’t hesitate to make value judgments or criticisms. However, they are never unfair, and seem to make a legitimate attempt to have their facts straight. The thing I like about it is the fact that they make their personal and editorial biases clear, and are consistent with them. I believe that all news sources are highly biased, and I become very wary when a news source claims to be “fair and balanced” (a favored phrase by Fox News, which is not fair or balanced). Usually this just means that they are making an attempt to disguise their bias, or mislead you into thinking a certain way.

I think the Economist is actually pretty fair, and well balanced. But not in the smarmy, way, but the real way. Their coverage of international politics is better than any other major news outlet, and their UK base and international editorial departments mean you get real coverage about things happening in “poor” countries that are often ignored by mainstream media.

It’s not a perfect news magazine, but it is significantly better than most, as far as I can tell, and I enjoy reading it. The material is quite heady, and even their advertisements are fun. Instead of shampoo ads, there are job advertisements for things like CFO of the State Bank of Pakistan. Maybe I should apply.

Plus, it makes me feel smart. I’m reminded of the Simpson’s quote when Homer is on an airplane and manages to get into first class, he finds an Economist and says, “Look at meee. I’m reading the Economist! Did you know that Indonesia is at a crossroads?” Apparently intentionally, the next issue of the Economist had an article entitled, “Investing in Indonesia, at a crossroads”.

I finally saw one of my favorite hip-hop legends of all time, DJ Shadow. DJ Shadow was one of the pioneers of the ‘sample’ style of hip-hop, where music is made from scads of tiny snippets from other things. His 1996 album Outrospective is actually in the Guiness World Records for being the first album made entirely of samples. It’s an incredibly good album, too.
The whole concept of ‘sample based’ music is strange. At first, it sounds like a cop-out. “I can’t make my own music, so I’ll just sample other people’s, and call it my own.” And I admit, sometimes that happens. But in the tradition of Andy Warhol, it is possible to see the cultural ‘noise’ of our world as just another medium. Every day you hear hundreds of songs, snippets of radio from other people’s cars, music in stores, music at home, etc. I bet most people listen to at least a tiny bit of up to 100 songs a day. Most of it you just forget, but they leave an imprint on your mind. When you listen to some of DJ Shadow’s music, you hear things you recognize, a quick quote, a drum loop, a quick guitar riff, etc. But you don’t know where you heard it, or when. Thats the art of it, its something new, made out of familiar pieces. Like using leaves in a painting, or building sculptures out of old car parts. It takes our cultural noise, and uses it as raw material.

It was great to see him live, and he puts on a really good show. He has a lot of custom visuals playing along with the music, things that really go along with the tone. He had a few guests who sung vocals on some songs, including Chris James (from Stateless) who sung one very sad soulful tune, and another angry, loud song with intense beats. DJ Shadow also did a few songs with Lateef the Truth Speaker who also was the opening act. Lateef definately has a lot of energy, and is a very skillful rapper, it was great to see him in action with DJ Shadow.

Shadow’s set was a mixture of old things, and new things from his new album, “Outsider.” He noted, during the show, that he loves all kinds of music, but that he came to them through hip-hop. He loved hip-hop, and then realized, through that, that he loved jazz, and through hip-hop, that he loved rock. This is very clear in his songs, and the fusion of styles is relentless and amazing. There will be a techno synth, a hip-hop breakbeat, a jazzy horn, and a cello playing classical music, and for some reason, it all fits perfectly. His mixes are simple and perfect, nothing seems out of place, and nothing is added without reason. Very deft.

Anyway, it was his first real tour through St. Louis, and there was a huge crowd. I hope he comes back, and maybe we’ll get some other great artists, too. I’d sure love to see Blackalicious, for instance…