Tuesday, May 29, 2007

happy dairy month

according to this article in the food section of today's new york times, june is national dairy month - and dairy alternatives month as well!

as kim severson writes, "we are, each and every one of us, standing together on the threshold of national surimi seafood month. june is also the month to celebrate papayas, iced tea, frozen yogurt, candy, soul food, steakhouses and applesauce cake. and whether you eat turkeys or simply admire them, prepare to party. june is turkey lovers’ month, too. at least 175 days a year are set aside in recognition of some form of food or drink. this puts a lot of pressure on the average eater. the week of july 15 alone starts with tapioca day, moves into fresh spinach day, national caviar day and national daiquiri day, and ends with national junk food day."

happy eating!

and for more reading, check out the indispensible chase's calendar of events.

in with the truckers and the kickers and the cowboy angels


sign this petition to help get gram parsonsinducted into the country music hall of fame.

roky erickson DVD

earlier this month, I was fortunate enough to witness roky erickson and the explosives sonically destroy a capacity crowd at the sixth annual ponderosa stomp. now, I just got news that palm pictures will release you're gonna miss me - the definitive documentary on roky, on DVD, this july 10th. special features include 90-plus minutes of roky rarities: uncut performances of starry eyes, bloody hammer, right track now, don't slander me, and cold night for alligators, footage from roky's emancipation hearing, and more.

a ding dong for ping pong

I spent the last hours of memorial day playing singles and doubles ping pong. when I lived in atlanta (5th-11th grade) in the '80s, we had a table in the basement, and my cousin shawn and I would play "anything goes" - hands instead of paddles, intricate shots off the wood ceiling framing, double- and triple-bounces. who knows, maybe I could've been the next marty reisman. this piece by nancy franklin, published in the new yorker a few years ago, whetted my appetite for the game; last night's battle royale solidified it. craigslist, here I come!

fahrenheit 64101


anyone read this article about the used bookstore owner in kansas city, who burned a ton of unwanted books over the weekend?

booksignings this week

at davis-kidd booksellers tonight: thomas schmitt and arnold perl signing simple solutions. wedneday, ann hood signs the knitting circle. thursday, richard courtney signs buyers are liars and sellers are too!

and don't forget to visit burke's book store in its new location at 936 cooper street in cooper-young.

ugly betty


according to this, the first season of ugly betty is coming to DVD on may 31st. what a great show - the season finale was one of the best primetime TV episodes I've seen in forever...

burn, k-doe burn!

big article on antoinette and ernie k-doe in usa today. wish I was at the mother-in-law lounge right now!

Saturday, May 26, 2007

on this date in 1919

obit -
wealthiest negress dead

mrs. cj walker, known as new york's wealthiest negress, having accumulated a fortune from the sale of so-called anti-kink hair tonic and from real estate investments in the last 14 years, died yesterday morning at her country estate at irvington-on-hudson. she was proprietor of the madame walker hair dressing parlors at 108 west 136th street and other places in the city. her death recalled the unusual story of how she rose in twelve years from a washerwoman making only $1.50 a day to a position of wealth and influence among members of her race.

estimates of mrs. walker's fortune had run up to $1,000,000. she said herself two years ago that she was not yet a millionaire, but hoped to be some time, not that she wanted the money for herself, but for the good she could do with it. she spent $10,000 every year for the education of young negro men and women in southern colleges and sent six youths to tuskegee institute every year. she recently gave $5,000 to the national conference on lynching. born 51 years ago, she was married at 14, and was left a widow at 20 with a little girl to support. she worked as a cook, washerwoman, and the like until she had reached the age of about 37. one morning while bending over her wash she suddenly realized that there was no prospect on her meager wage of laying away anything for old age. she had often said that one night shortly afterward she had a dream and something told her to start a hair tonic business, which she did, in denver, colorado, on a capital of $1.25.

if only honore de balzac were around to write about this...


today's new york times has a great story on burt and linda pugach today. apparently, there's a new documentary - appropriately called crazy love - about the pugaches. for those of you who don't know the story, linda was burt's mistress in the late 1950s. they broke up; she became engaged to someone else. he hired a trio of thugs to throw lye in her face, an act that left her disfigured and eventually blind. burt served 14 years in the pen, writing linda love letters all the while. a year after his release, they were married. I guess true love runs deep...

a genius exchange between the couple, as documented in ruth la ferla's piece:

hung alongside her suits, chain belts and ruffled blouses, was a collection of fur chokers she made herself from scraps of pelts. “I have to be doing something with my hands constantly,” she said.

"like punch me in the mouth,” her husband interjected.

“if I could find him I would,” she said.

cleaning out last night's cobwebs


last night, I drank two beer and four margaritas while watching a yardful of kids run around. this morning, as soon as I could get my eyes peeled open, I staggered into the kitchen and hugged my illy espresso machinewith both arms. actually, I wasn't too hung over, but I definitely needed a non-alcoholic pick-me-up.

in the US, gourmet coffee consumption has increased exponentially over the last decade. thanks to the starbucks chain, which has made “latte” and “frappuccino” household words. while high-end coffee shops aren’t as ubiquitous in memphis as they are in west coast cities like san francisco and seattle, they are definitely gaining ground: downtown, empire coffee, quetzal, precious cargo, café francisco, and newcomer bluff city coffee vie for thirsty customers, while midtown drinkers have otherlands, java cabana, high point coffee, and the deliberate literate to choose from. in germantown, there’s gloria jean’s, the java company, and more, while east memphians can belly up to the bar at the ugly mug, geekers, the original high point coffee location, and the café inside davis-kidd booksellers. factor in the eight starbucks outlets that dot busy intersections around town, and you’ll begin to feel the caffeine buzz.

but a coffee a day can get expensive – which is why many caffeine lovers - including me - are opting to brew their own at home. nearly every coffee shop in memphis – including high point coffee, otherlands, and quetzal – offers either whole beans or ground coffee for sale; both high point and quetzal also offer specialty blends via mail.

starbucks coffee and regional favorites like community’s coffee with chicoryand café du monde’s french roast are available in area grocery stores, while gevalia kaffeoffers a home delivery service that includes a twelve-cup stainless steel coffeemaker with your first shipment of grounds.

my grind of choice comes from italian importer illy a casa, which recently introduced a high-end espresso membership program that includes a sleek francisfrancis! X5 espresso machine at just a fraction of its $750 retail price, along with a monthly delivery of pods, whole beans, or ground coffee, conveniently billed to my credit card. does working at home justify the expense? today, after two cafe au laits sipped while watching patricia neal shatter lonesome sundown in a face in the crowd on TCM, my answer is a resounding hell yes.

Friday, May 25, 2007

word of the day - covetous

covetous, as in I want this, just one example of the cutest stuff ever, available at seamripper. found via print & pattern. check out the "fun" stuff, including downloadable desk calendars, recipes, and a holiday shopping list. I am not only covetous of miss seamripper's store - I am also covetous of her talent!

cov·et·ous [kuhv-i-tuhs]
–adjective
1. inordinately or wrongly desirous of wealth or possessions; greedy.
2. eagerly desirous.
[Origin: 1250–1300; ME coveitous < AF, OF; see covet, -ous]

—Related forms
cov·et·ous·ly, adverb
cov·et·ous·ness, noun

—Synonyms 1. grasping, rapacious. See avaricious.
Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1)
Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2006.

Thursday, May 24, 2007

recycled newspapers


are now available at the container store.

were you a teenage popsicle?


I decided that tonight's the night to break out these tovolo popsicle molds and try 'em out. I've got a pineapple and lots of fresh berries, and, after reading this recipe at chowhound, I'm gonna get out the blender and get to work so that I have a freezer full of popsicles ready for memorial day. in the meantime, doesn't this book look good?

this just in! mccarthy-winfrey date set

june 5th. cormac on oprah. the proof is in the pudding, er, this impossibly fuzzy, postage stamp-sized photo. go here for the details. and, for the record, I love oprah! and cormac! I just can't fathom those two worlds colliding.

omelet, nescafé, and mr. waxler on DVD

mark your calendar for june 12th, when rhino entertainment/atlantic records releases the documentary DVD atlantic records: the house that ahmet built pbs aired the doc as part of its american masters series in early may, but if you're like me, you'll want to have this in your permanent collection.

here are some outtakes from the seven-page ahmet ertegun feature I wrote for the april 2007 issue of mojo:

atlantic records co-owner jerry wexler: we just ham and egged it. there’s a lot of floundering going on when you’re making a record. we had a lot of good fortune between us, but it all happened more or less by accident. bobby darin was the first big one for us, and everybody thought he was black. I was running wild in the streets, and I was an incorrigible fuck-up, but even though I came to atlantic with a lot of street smarts, I was still an educated man, a reader. yet ahmet had a real continental flair – in one minute, he’d be talking french to an ambassador at the UN, saying, ‘au revoir, mon ami,’ and then he’d turn to a wino sitting on the couch and ask, ‘what you know good, holmes?’ he had that ability.

new orleans studio owner cosimo matassa: the difference between [ertegun and wexler] and, say, johnny vincent [founder of jackson, mississippi-based ace records, one of atlantic’s regional competitors] is that they knew what they wanted musically. they had very strong opinions about how they wanted things to go. sometimes, they had a verbal bout, but they also had an amazing ability to agree when it was over. they truly collaborated, and they were much more involved in the structure of a song, which I tried to stay out of. my job when I was working with them was to be transparent – if you couldn’t hear my involvement, it was success.

singer solomon burke: me being on atlantic was almost like a dream. my manager and I went to the offices on west 56th, and after sitting there for about 20 minutes, ahmet ertegun and jerry wexler walked out and said, ‘you’re signed.' to come from a label like apollo to atlantic was like the next phase. in those days, you’d hear ruth brown and lavern baker played every five minutes on the radio. I was sitting there in awe, looking at all these great pictures of clyde mcphatter and ivory joe hunter, thinking, this is the label of labels. then mr. ertegun pointed to the picture of ray charles and said, ‘have that picture removed now.’ I thought, wow, are they gonna give it to me? it was difficult to do R&B right away because of my religious convictions. I wondered, could we say that I’m on a soul label? jerry wexler said, ‘this is the red-and-black label, this is the most important label!’ but ahmet said, ‘hey man, if the man wants to sing soul, let him sing soul.’ then wexler didn’t like the idea of me speaking during my songs. ‘I know you’re a preacher man, but I don’t need you to preach,’ he told me. ahmet said, ‘hey man, maybe the church people will buy the record.’ they had that good cop bad cop act down! during my atlantic years, I feel like I went to high school and graduated from a university. working with mr. ertegun was like having a godfather guiding and directing you in many ways. his love of the music was pure, and if he made a commitment to you, it was always carried out. atlantic was where I first learned what BMI meant, and where I learned about having my own publishing company. it was a great educational moment in my career. we were all part of a family. cousins of music, I guess you’d call it.”

new orleans born producer allen toussaint: atlantic was my kind of company. they were cutting professor longhair and ray charles, people we considered near and dear to new orleans. back in the neighborhood, one of the guys would hear about a new atlantic record coming out, and you’d immediately drop what you were doing and head over to the one-stop on rampart street to buy a copy. atlantic offered that reachable hope for new orleans musicians. it was extremely gratifying to see these educated men who weren’t from the ‘hood, but who were so interested in getting this soulful music out to the world. I don’t mean the hits that had arrived, but the music with potential. when we heard a new atlantic single, we thought, yes, we have a chance.

mac rebennack, aka dr john: ahmet was a sharp dressing man, a pimp-looking motherfucker, and jerry was the extreme opposite – he looked like joe the newspaper reporter. I was impressed, but I couldn’t picture them going into any of these bucket of blood joints. maybe they had disguises in the hotel that they could change into before they went out. the way I saw them in the studio, I pictured them getting whopped, but I suppose they moved in the correct kind of circles no matter where they were. between ahmet, neshui, and wexler, atlantic made real good records. the quality was there – they had so much more advanced technology than we had in new orleans. we were still recording one-track, and they had sixteen tracks in their studio. there were so many dates going on at atlantic. ahmet drove me crazy, always calling about acts. a lot of times, in sessions, he’d say shit that was so left field of what was really going on. one day, we were cutting some fucking tune, and when we’re finished and packing up our axes, ahmet comes in. he’d been there the whole day, never saying one word, and he sadistically kicked a look at this guitar player and said ‘huh’ in that dry way of his. ‘huh,’ he said, ‘that was really a killer solo. too bad you didn’t play it on a good take.’ it was just one of those things, but he said it with no smile, no nothing. out of sheer nervousness, the poor guy laughed. ahmet, neshui, and jerry wexler were called omelet, nescafé, and mr. waxler around the studio. otis redding dubbed them with those names – because a money-making artist said it, they let it pass. but for some reason, they’d let some guy like me say it too.

jazz producer joel dorn: ahmet had the instincts of a broadway hustler, but he brought a sophistication and an elegance to the game. he wasn’t a regular guy – he’d been educated at the sorbonne, he lived all over the world, and he understood european and us culture. he told me once that when he was a young man, he made an active decision between being the president of turkey or the greatest record executive of all time. when a guy’s got a head that deep in his early twenties, he’s not a guy to mess with. not only did he have confidence – he had a vision, and at an age when most people are trying to figure out whether they want to wear loafers or shoes with laces, he was making decisions which affected the world. atlantic had three brilliant, one-of-kind producers. there was no other combination in the record business like that. they ran their separate fiefdoms – while ahmet and jerry were working on a clovers record or a ruth brown record, neshui might be recording john coltrane or the modern jazz quartet – but they understood each other’s worlds. as a result, atlantic was a singular, stand-alone label that had no precedent.

memphis producer jim dickinson: ahmet knew, but no one else was hip to the fact that the stones’ contract with EMI was running out. when they were recording in muscle shoals, the stones were broke, drained by keith’s drug trials and other stuff. they were technically still under contract with EMI, but cutting tracks for "sticky fingers," their first album on atlantic. ahmet’s eyes were bulgy, his teeth stuck out, and he had a van dyke goatee and mustache. I got the impression that every hair in his beard was exactly the same length, and I’m dead positive he was the only man in muscle shoals wearing cuff links – he was that clean, that put together. you couldn’t be unimpressed. he was taking up as much space as the rolling stones were, and he certainly held his own with them. ahmet was kind of high society – he really only talked to mick jagger, but then that’s the way the stones operated. jagger was gregarious, almost bubbly, and the interaction between he and ahmet was like country club stuff. unlike wexler, who was strictly up-from-the-gutter, out to prove that he was one of the boys, ahmet was definitely not one of the boys. when you were in a room with him, you weren’t even alive. I was walking in the courtyard with stanley booth, and I saw the [hotel] room ahmet had been in. the door was open, and mark myerson [wexler’s assistant who later became vice president of the label] was in the bathroom on his knees flushing the leftover keys, real quality pot, down the toilet. there had just been a raid on rick hall’s studio, so the muscle shoals guys were real paranoid, but no one was gonna say anything to ahmet or the stones.

farmers market

I love the farmers market! last weekend, after eric, amie and phoebe and I wrapped up our yard sale shopping, we headed to the memphis farmers market to watch the crowds and buy some treats. I picked up some radishes, a bag of arugula, a box of baked goods from the pie lady (!!!), and some homemade goat cheese. now I'm pouring over the san francisco ferry farmers market cookbook to see what I should get this week... the fennel recipes look great, and fennel is the only thing that seems to be growing well in my front garden! how are your vegetables faring this year?

politics


found via the goner records board.
brilliant!

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

jacob blickenstaff

I met

jacob blickenstaff

at the 2006 ponderosa stomp. the st louis native blew in from brooklyn to shatter me - and everyone else who's seen his work - with his performance shots. jacob and his fiancee, the fabulous emma, came back to memphis for new year's eve, and then I caught up with him again in new orleans earlier this month for the sixth annual ponderosa stomp. contrary to my every instinct, jacob largely avoided the crush at the front of the stage and instead set up a portrait booth, guiding artists over before and after their performances. those pictures - not yet on his site - are phenomenal, like road maps to guide you through the lives of these great musicians, every moment lived etched on their faces. I know some day I'll tell my grandkids that I knew this guy when he was just starting out - his shots are that incredible. just gaze at this one, of syl johnson in 2006.

bill steber

I've been lucky enough to have photos by bill steber illustrate some of my work in the past, in mojo and living blues. his work is brilliant - whether it appears on a glossy magazine page,as a CD cover or even on a flyer for my friend highway 7, who DJs in portland, oregon. bill's also a great writer, and he further documents the blues tradition with audio interviews and field recordings. go get lost on his site, then join me in begging him to publish the first of many books.

justin fox burks


justin burks

and I have done a lot of work together over the last few years, including tons of stuff for the memphis flyer. this image of 8ball & mjg came from a photoshoot he did for the cover of the february 2007 issue of wax poetics. this year, we've also collaborated on stories on arthur lee and the black keys for mojo, and pieces on stax records for the summer 2007 issue of stop smiling and paste (june 2007). right now, we're working on two major photo-heavy pieces - a photo essay on orange mound sign painter brick, and a feature on memphis-based graffiti collective UH. I've worked more closely with justin than I have any other photographer - he makes the work fun, and he intuitively knows what I'm looking for. plus, even though he's a vegetarian, he shoots barbecue uncomplainingly, and he's super-sweet about listening to me bitch about my freelance situation - most likely, because he's in the same boat! editors should know that his wife amy lawrence is a rising star on the fiction scene. remember that name! anyways, major props to justin. go to his site.

rock and roll, turned inside out

I just got a copy of tom wright's rock'n'roll photography book, roadwork, from my friend jenna at hal leonard. due for release in july 2007, it's a nice, weighty coffee table book - although it's printed (per wright's request) on non-glossy stock. think the '70s, lots of shots of the faces, the james gang, and even the who, standing in a field in jackson, mississippi. plenty of memories alongside the images, which live up to the book's subtitle, "rock and roll turned inside out." wright's stuff is fantastic, but it makes me think about the music photographers I've worked with, who really need to have books out. so I'm gonna post a short list of folks, which I know will grow.

it's not martha, but...

heeeere's joanie, talking with vanessa redgrave about the year of magical thinking.

who caught joan didion on martha stewart a few months back? I laughed so hard that coffee almost came out my nose watching martha (who I really do adore) and miz joan attempt to hold a conversation. like ilsa, the she-wolf of the ss dominating a WWII-era prison camp, martha talked all over her about the year of magical thinking (the book and the broadway play). before revealing that she was giving her audience members all copies of joan's latest fiction collection, martha described the book as something like "410 pages." needless to say, they hardly connected. the camera even panned to joan's squirming publicist out in the front row a few times. with poor joan perched on the hotseat, martha only shifted into high gear after steamrolling over jamie oliver, who was talking up his new italian cookbook.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

from a growl to an ugggh


I just read geoff calkins' commercial appeal column about the memphis grizz, our nba team. we drew fourth - FOURTH!!! - pick in the draft last night. fourth ain't good, folks, and it likely won't mean the season we need to pull our team (and lets face it, this city) out of a rut. I couldn't even watch the grizz play offs this spring, because I miss hubie and the sheriff and hate like hell that pau wants off this merry-go-round. I do want to find out where big baby, my fave college player (he shot for lsu) is gonna go, but I'm too heartsick to read more right now.

for me, football doesn't measure up, but the college teams are already starting to scrimmage in the humidity, which has me wondering about ole miss left tackle michael oher, subject of the blind side (michael lewis, ww norton). born and raised on the wrong side of memphis, oher was nearly a forgotten child. his mother was a drug addict, his father a murder victim, when he wound up at briarcrest christian high school (my hellish alma mater) in east memphis. through a series of incredibly fortuitous events, documented by lewis, oher was taken in by another family who had two kids at the school, and eventually adopted. today, he plays for the university of mississippi, the alma mater of his new father, who just happens to be sean tuohy, commentator for the memphis grizzlies.

I was lucky enough to catch up with lewis and tuohy for a story I penned for the memphis business journal last year:

“the ncaa is actually worried that the tuohys are the next generation of boosters, who will go into the ghetto to adopt football players,” lewis told me. “but sean isn’t a typical booster – he’s beyond that. he isn’t like the guy who paid for albert means [the late logan young, memphian and infamous alabama supporter] – that’s not his m.o. I’m not sure if sean thinks that ole miss will ever have a good football team – he doesn’t even seem to care that much.”

before last winter's book signing in oxford, mississippi, lewis said that he heard a rumor that the university of mississippi’s athletic director sent out a memo trying to find factual errors in his book. “they thought it was bad for ole miss, then they found out it was good. there are a lot of white people happy to have a story told about racial relations that isn’t a horror story,” he said. “they gave me a medal at the business school, and I gave a talk at square books. I never signed so many books!”

“I’m no more less proud of [oher] than I am my other son and daughter,” sean tuohy told me. “so far, this has been a five-year experience for us, so today is just another day. the truth is, if michael lewis hadn’t written the book, we never would’ve looked back.”

“I always looked at this story as a positive,” tuohy added, making an oblique reference to the albert means recruiting scandal. “what you hope is that memphis is maybe back to even.”

reading to eat and eating to read...




I've got food on my mind. who can blame me, with the number of insane cookbooks, over-the-top food books, and crazy-good sounding recipes that are teetering on my desk right now. let's see... there's extreme barbecue: smokin' rigs and real good recipes (dan huntley and lisa grace lednicer, chronicle books), the exquisite pork & sons (stéphane reynaud, phaidon press), the june issue of martha stewart living, and moonshine (matthew rowley, lark books), the first food book I've seen to come with a disclaimer that it's merely an informational source, not a "how to" guide on making your own liquor still... also, a pamphlet for 1080 recipes, touted as "spain's best-selling cookbook for over 30 years," which is slated to be published by phaidon this fall, and, on my computer, an email touting an upcoming food tour sponsored by the southern foodways alliance.

why, oh why, did I pursue music writing instead of food?

last week, I did manage to catch up with lisa grace, co-author of extreme barbecue, who, as I mentioned in a memphis business journal article about the memphis in may world champion barbecue cooking contest (held last weekend in downtown memphis), logged some 30,000 miles traveling the highways and backroads of America to chronicle the grills and pits built by boundary-pushing barbecue aficionados.

“it’s my first trip to the memphis in may contest,” lednicer told me, confessing that in her new jersey childhood, barbecuing involved a weber grill and a bag of charcoal.

in her adult life, she’s hauled a butchered lamb from portland, oregon to the san juan islands in washington state to watch chefs david and yolanda stegman do their work. the trip took two days, and involved transporting the lamb from her car to a motel room to a ferry. “everything was still attached, including the head and organs,” lednicer recalls. “it had big, brown soulful eyes, and I told myself to pretend, ‘look, honey, we’re in a david lynch movie!’ I eventually christened it larry the lamb.”

such herculean feats are becoming commonplace for lovers of slow-cooked meat.

case in point: french chef stéphane reynaud, whose magnum opus pork & sons was translated into english for publication by phaidon press this month. the 350-pages plus, lavishly illustrated tome includes details of reynaud’s first slaughter (he was seven years old, and the 400-pound pig yielded six-and-a-half feet of blood sausage, 44 pounds of paté, 18 pounds of roasting pork, two hams, and an additional 200 pounds of regionally prepared sausages), beautifully photographed portraits of the villagers who partake in the process, and hundreds of recipes, running the gamut from genuine charcutier’s meatloaf to glazed pork hocks.

in pork & sons, no part of the pig goes unused. cheeks are browned and baked with fennel and olives, and ears are stuffed with carrots, leeks, sweetbreads, and foie gras. feet and tails are breaded and served with herbs. even the liver is set aflame with muscatel and then refrigerated until it becomes a porky parfait.

my favorite part of the pig? a smoky shoulder, rendered to perfectly chopped goodness by the crew at payne's bbq.
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