Cleveland Food Rocks BBQ: Or how I gained 10 pounds in 2 hours

First of all, last night I saw the Little House on the Prairie show finale for the first time. What? The only way that ending could get any better is if the priest blew the church up too. I never watched the last seasons, but Laura and Manly had such an obscenely nice house, and she was wearing so much makeup, I can only assume she became a prostitute in her later years. And it's nice Ma was helping out with that. Also, why the hell was Shannon Doherty in the cast?

Today I wisely didn't eat any breakfast, and stumbled sleepy eyed into the Cleveland Food Rocks BBQ over at the Beachland. Basically a whole slew of area restaurants handing out amazing goodies, and Bootsy Collins. It was a good time. Which is why I'm now probably a diabetic, and my stomach looks like I live in Somalia eating flies. I shouldn't say that, that's tasteless.


I feel bad because I don't remember who I got the grilled corn from(edit: the corn was from Momocho, of course. duh), but it was spicy and limey and great. Next was a pulled chicken taco from Crop, and pork belly with pickled watermelon from Boulevard Blue. I apologize. The tent, while being very useful in it's heat seeking missile shielding capabilities, made taking good food photos a little hard. I'm sure I'll see pictures tomorrow that will prove me wrong.


I think Melange definitely wins best in show. They had a clambake, clam chowder, and bags of this awesome popcorn (caramel bacon mixed with peanut butter and jelly popcorn WHAT). I actually made my friend take home another bag of popcorn for me, because I can't stop eating this shit.


Next favorite: Lago's grilled peach with goat cheese ice cream and balsamic. This was the dish everyone was telling everyone else to try. I would have bought a gallon of that ice cream. More than a gallon. One of those crazy huge buckets that you buy the really cheap ice cream in. It might have lasted me a week.




Luxe's beautiful variety of potato salads served in the most appropriate walk around container ever. Spooned up by Cleveland's version of Lenny Kravitz. Cuter though. Raves also went to the salmon done by Marc at the Blue Point Grill, but not by me since I don't eat fish. I tried it, because I was told I would like it despite my habit of not eating slimy ocean dwelling vermin. Sadly, I was not converted. But I remember how much I loved Marc's duck from Capsule, so I'm sure it kicked ass. And Pierre's managed to keep three tubs of ice cream frozen for 4 hours with things that looked like styrofoam peanuts, and they brought Peppermint Stick! So good for them.

Apparently Steve Schimoler from Crop, besides running food empires, organizing charity events, and running my favorite restaurant in Cleveland, also plays the drums. Well. Now he can say he's played with Bootsy Collins. Apparently Bootsy is also a restaurateur in Cincinnati. Maybe they're old friends. Maybe they were in the secret service together. Maybe Bootsy taught Steve how to kill a man with his thumb.


It was a grand ol' time, and I hope they do it again next year. Because I will need more popcorn. Soon. I'm going to go pass out now, again.

Note: you can see much better pictures by my friend Angie at Metromix. Seriously, I don't know why everything is purple...

Oh the heavy footsteps!

Last night was a weird night for me. I went to the Walkmen concert at the Beachland by myself. Which is a simple blanket statement, but let me break that down for you. It means that I:

a)drove the Beachland by myself
b)parked and walked by myself
c)walked through the door crowd by myself
d)waited at the bar by myself
e)drank my drink by myself
f)stood against the wall by myself
g)watched the crappy opening band by myself
h)smoked a cigarette outside by myself
i)left early overwhelmed by loneliness and not impressed enough by the band to battle that, by myself.

So not the best time I've ever had. I mean, I've gone to shows by myself before, I'm not a pussy. Usually I'm quite capable of having a good time. But last night was not the night for that. I knew it before I left the house, I think. It was this loose blanket of blah, that slowly tightened around me as I drove there, and was choking me by the time I settled into my spot against the wall. If the bands had been better it might have jolted me out of that thick green fog.

But the 2nd opening band (I missed Coffinberry) was sub par. They were decent enough at playing their instruments, but the promised beat anticipation never materialized, and the lead singer reminded me of a guy I knew at Thursdays a long time ago. It was wan. Like a kitten with a dead flower in its mouth.

And maybe my depression was throwing cottonballs in my ears, because the Walkmen failed to throw any punches either. It was good enough, it was pretty in that monochrome way they have, but it was too low key and monotone and every sound seemed like it was bouncing against a glass wall between the band and the audience. There were trombones waiting on the side, but I couldn't stick it out long enough to be disappointed by them.

So I don't know. Either it sucked cause I wasn't in the mood, or it sucked AND I wasn't in the mood. I tend towards the latter. I mean, if it was good, it would have made me feel better right?

Cleveland Sports and Fishing Show

Is that a dead bird in there?

Yesterday, S. and I went to the Beachland Brunch to get a little drunk. We tried to make it to a movie at CFF first, but got there late and opted for a little tipsiness instead. They could do wonders for the Film Festival by holding it somewhere besides Tower City, the most infuriating place to park ever. So we said fuck it and drove to Collinwood. I had something called an Irish breakfast, which was Guinness, whiskey, some other alcohol, I don't remember. It tasted like a whiskey milkshake. S. had the Bloody British. Our waitress was super nice. The food is not always consistent there, but they more than make up for it with the drinks and atmosphere. And this time round, the food was actually pretty good. The fried scrambled eggs were very nice.

With soundtrack provided by Hall and Oates greatest hits, we drove to Berea, to meet up with Colleen and Matt somewhere, ditch our car so we didn't have to pay parking twice, and meander for free around the Sports and Fishing show. Colleen had two free tickets, and the boys tried to convince us to try this elaborate not going to work scheme to get them in for free too, which turned out to be unnecessary because someone just gave S. two free tickets, like, in front of the gate. Which should serve as a sign for the rest of the experience.

I'll just sum it up in pictures here...

Very unhappy camel at the petting zoo. Though I don't really know the standards of camel happiness. Maybe he's thrilled there's an endless supply of water and he's not getting whipped.

Amish crafted guns, taller than S. Very creepy, didn't know the Amish were packing this kind of firepower. Guess they have to protect themselves from the elephants rampaging around western Pennsylvania. I'm very sick of the whole "Amish made means real quality" schtick. I think I trust precisely tuned machines just a tad bit more than I do humans who have to repeat the same inane task 800 times a day. How's that for generational commentary?

Complex animal robots, designed to seduce and destroy. This is your future.

An expensive piece of machinery that from first glance, seems to be a foppish symbol of greed and luxury. But really, think how useful it would be during the Meltdown. You could just bob in the lake, hidden by darkness, watching the city burn. And it would be a great escape vehicle for trying to make it to the salt mines under the lake. Which I think we can all agree is really the place to be during the Apocalypse.

Complex humanoid robots, designed to seduce and destroy.

Demonstration of how to properly field dress a terrorist. Oh, I'm sorry, was that in bad taste?

I love these lights. I'm plotting how to make miniature versions for my house. I am slightly disturbed by fact there's a ballroom at the IX Center. What company says, hey I know the perfect place for our year end event. We'll make everyone drive out to the wasteland by the airport, pay 8 dollars for parking, and dance the night away next to a giant warehouse full of cars and fishing poles. Better yet, I wonder if anyone has ever gotten married at the IX Center.