Albums of My Year – 2011

 

These are the albums of my year.  If they interest you, check them out.  They’re not the be all and end all of music.  However, this has been the soundtrack of 2011 for me.  I’m happy to say that many of them have been appreciated on vinyl.  That medium, more than anything else, has gotten me back to enjoying music and not just listening to it.  I had forgotten about the difference there for a while.

Anyway, here’s my 2011 in no particular order:

• Alberta Cross – Rolling Thunder EP
  Hope this is a preview of the new album.  Driving rock that could derail into Kings of Leon in 2012.  Let’s hope not.

 

• The Black Keys – El Camino
  Geez.  Hook mania.

 

• Elbow – Build a Rocket Boys!
  Not their best by a mile but the 1st half is great and it picks up again at the end.

 

• Gomez – Whatever’s on Your Mind
  An older, wiser, Gomez.  Not their best but a good dad record.  I am what I am.

 

• Jane’s Addiction – The Great Escape Artist
  Nice effort from guys well past their prime.

 

• John Hiatt – Dirty Jeans and Mudslides
  He’s still got it.

 

• Kasabian – Velociraptor!
  English bloke dance-rock at its best.

 

• Kurt Vile – Smoke Ring for My Halo
  Dinosaur Jr. mixed with Dylan.  And Beck.  Laconic and awesome.

 

• Peter Bjorn and John – Gimme Some
  The new Apples in Stereo for me.  Sweet power pop.  Hooks galore.

 

• Portugal. The Man – In the Mountain In the Cloud
  Wasilla, AK.  They’ve got a period in their name.  ‘Nuff said.

 

• Radiohead – The King of Limbs
  Weird album that rewards with repeat listens.  Rockers need not apply.

 

• Wilco – The Whole Love
  A return to form for one of the best American bands.  Great stuff.

Wanderlust

“Don’t you ever wanna just roll down that highway wherever it goes?”

“In my experience, wanderlust is vastly overrated.  Every time I’ve ever taken to the road it’s carried to someplace worse than I was before.”

The above quote is from Steve Earle’s novel, I’ll Never Get Out of This World Alive which I finished on my recent trip to New Delhi.  While my experience with wanderlust has been much more fortunate, I can completely understand the sentiment.  In the case of my trip to India, I think it applies.

Don’t get me wrong.  India was fascinating.  The food was good; the people were warm and really pleasant.  But India itself is a land of contradiction.  Gut-wrenchingly so.   The sheer fact that it is the largest democracy in the world with such staggering poverty is something I can’t reconcile in my head.

Of course, I would be wrong to judge the whole of India based on a week-long conference even with several trips outside of the hotel with folks who know the city.  And I must say, even in the traffic-choked, smog shrouded capital, the city hints of the treasures held in the rest of country.  The brilliance of color in the local dress and the intensely delicious flavors of Indian cuisine were enough to make this traveler curious about what lies outside of the dusty streets of the capital.

That said, I get the feeling I may never get the chance to experience the rest of this country.  Maybe I’m too old.  Maybe all the truffles and foie gras have made me timid, weak and flabby.  Or maybe, sometimes, wanderlust is indeed overrated.

Croquetas de Jamón, Albóndigas en Sofrito y Alcachofas Laminadas – Hecho en Casa

I could have opened up a restaurant in downtown Madrid last night.  This amateur chef was firing on all cylinders.  Heck, I was even firing on cylinders that I didn’t know I had.

Making croquetas has always been something that I have wanted to do – successfully.  I tried it once with my dad about 20 years ago, back when I was a kid just home from a year in Spain.  We failed.  Miserably.  The croquetas were burnt blobs.  The failure scarred me and I had not tried to make them again, until last night.

Just back from India, I got a hankerin’ for something that was, well, not curry.  Having recently excavated a nice chunk of frozen jamón from the freezer, I decided to put it to use in the croquetas.  I used the recipe from La Tienda.com‘s website.  I ended up changing the proportions quite a bit since the 1/2 lb of jamón that the recipe called for made for too meaty of croquetas.  I used some smoked sweet paprika and nutmeg in the batter, just to bring out the flavors I love.

They were a huge success.  Mrs. NH and Little NH gobbled them up as fast as I could make them.  But I didn’t stop there.

I also wanted to try my hand at fried artichokes, just like in Barcelona’s Ciudad Condal.  These always seemed like an impossible dish to make, due to the cleaning of the choke and thin cut that they needed to have.  Nonetheless, I decided to give it a try and I’m glad I did.

First, I pulled off the green outer leaves and then cut of the top prickly portion of the artichoke.  Using a baby food spoon (thanks, Scamp!) I scooped out the fuzziest part of the inner choke, right above the heart.  I then halfed it and set to running it through on the “thin” setting on my mandolin.  Finally, I fried them in about 1/2 inch of olive oil and finished with a liberal sprinkling of sea salt.  Wow.  Two home runs in one night.

Finally, I decided that to round out this feast, we needed Little NH’s new favorite tapa – albóndigas (meatballs).  We did a pork variety with a delicious sofrito from José Andrés’ “Made in Spain”.  Little NH helped mix the meat and made all of the balls herself.  I fried them up and added them to the sauce to simmer for a good hour until we chowed down.

Not content to do a feast of tapas half way, I opened the pack of duck jamón I had in the fridge and Mrs. NH prepared fresh pan con tomate.  It was a meal that I would have been thrilled with at any Spanish tapas bar in el barrio gótico or on Cava Baja.  The fact that I had it while sitting on my couch, made it all the better.

¡Exito!

India, Here I Come!

I have never been as far east as I am about to go tomorrow.  I’m pretty darn excited.  It should be a great trip.  I hope to send a bit of blog fodder from New Delhi.  In between curry seasoned bites, of course.

Pizza or Pakistan?

I didn’t choose; the Pakistani Embassy in Prague chose for me.  I didn’t get a visa to visit Pakistan in time so I did what any smart man would do.  I stayed home and cooked.  From Friday night through Sunday night Mrs. NH and I made/ate/froze:

2 Pizza Margheritas
14 doughs for pizza crust
1 Breakfast Burrito
2 Cheesesteak Sandwiches
48 Flour Tortillas
27 Crepes
1 Batch Tortilla Soup

It was an incredible weekend and the freezers are full.  And my pants still fit.
That beats Islamabad any day.

A Perfect Day in San Sebastian – Part 2

“Siesta” marks a huge split in the day in Spain.  I have been told that for those Spaniards in the corporate world, it is a thing of the past.  However, in the small hill towns of La Rioja and even the winding back streets of “La Parte Vieja” of San Sebastian, it is still very much a part of daily life.  Therefore, we planned our day to deflect the gap that is sometimes left by siesta in order to pack as much into our last Sunday in Spain.  (This article is part two of the article that began here.)

Stop 5: Ostertz – Coffee and Sherry and Regional Education

After a big morning and early afternoon of feasting, some good digestion was in order.  Mrs. NH and I settled on a small, busy cafe/bar right along the waterfront on the opposite side of La Concha Bay – facing the new town of San Sebastian.  We weren’t the only family that sought shaded refuge and something to sip on for continued strength.  After our coffees, I opted for a nice fino Sherry and Mrs. NH suggested that I, “Ask if they can make me a rebujito!”  Discovered while touring Jerez a few years back, a rebujito is a drink that consists of Sprite or some kind of bubbly lemon drink mixed with fino Sherry.  I prefer not to pollute my fino with anything.  However, Mrs. NH doesn’t ask for much so the least I could do is ask at the bar keep.  My inquiry was met with incredulity from the bartender and eye rolls and independent commentary from another patron inside the bar.  “This isn’t Andalucía,” he offered.  Luckily, I had ordered my fino puro first and was able to believably pass off my request for what it was – a request from my wife.  When I returned to the table with a fino and a cerveza clara, I marveled with my wife about how truly regional Spanish food and drink is.  I also relayed the fact that despite almost being laughed out of the bar for my order, both bartender and patron were curious to know the exact ingredients and proportions of a proper rebujito.  The best part, they asked the American!

Stop 6: Merry Go Round and Potato Chips

As a father, I’ve seen a lot of playgrounds in a lot of towns in a lot of countries.  If you have kids of your own, you know how it is.  If they see a playground, they want to stop.  Same goes with merry go rounds.  My girls are good travelers so if there is time in the day,  I don’t mind spending a bit of it doing things they like.  I feel it ads harmony to the overall trip experience (as well as the obvious “carrot” for good behavior).  So, kid fun time completed, we proceeded to the paved mosaic waterfront of San Sebastian.  On the way we saw a man selling 1.50 euro bags of potato chips and did not waste any time in forking over our coin for a modest bag.  The reason we shelled out almost $2.25 for a small bag of chips?  Experience.  Spanish potato chips can be really tasty – like the ones sold in La Plaza del Salvador in Sevilla.  The ones in San Sebastian were no exception.  Thick cut, salty, slightly greasy and really satisfying.  Between that and the sunset walk along the ocean, it was the perfect primer to an evening of tapas and delightful Spanish mayhem.

Stop 7: Ormazabal

Part of Little NH’s fascination with Spain comes from a part of the Spanish tapas bar culture that seems entirely counter to everything she has been taught about cleanliness.  At first, she was terrified to toss a used napkin on the floor of Spanish a tapas bar.  However, by the end of the trip, she was asking, “Daddy, are you done with your napkin?  When you are, give it to me so I can throw it on the floor.”  When in Spain…, right?

For our second to last tapas stop of the evening, we hit Ormazabal for a round of family favorites from our last several days in Spain.  The friendly folks behind the counter made a couple recommendations and even delivered the items right to our table – and we had a great time bantering in English, Spanish and sorta-French with them.  Our orders consisted of some of the best food we had eaten in Spain and included: meatballs (albondigas), spinach croquetas, peppers stuffed with bacalao, octopus in its ink and beef cheeks.  Having settled into a comfortable table in the back with room for the stroller (which at this point in the trip resembled more of a covered wagon), we decided to stay put and made this tapas stop more of a meal.  We ordered 2-3 more rounds of food, each accompanied by great banter with the help, and departed very satisfied for a very modest price.

Unfortunately, for Little NH, not all restaurants in Spain cater to the “napkin on the floor” tradition – including Ormazabal.  So, we had one more stop.

Stop 8: Munto Jatetxea Redux

One good turn deserves another, right?  As we were heading north to France the next morning and Little NH2 was asleep in her stroller, we decided to head back to Munto Jatetxea for our last plates of tapas.  Mrs. NH had not had enough pimientos de padrón on this trip and I had no problem helping her gobble up the heaping plate while our youngest slept in the stroller amidst the din of the patronage in the bar.  At the other end of the hyperactivity spectrum, Little NH stood outside in the pedestrian traffic only street and danced and sang to a tune residing somewhere deep inside her head.  Folks alternately chuckled at her, danced with her and dodged her.  We all got to do what we loved best.  Of course, Little NH took a break every now and then to come inside, sip some juice and toss down my used napkins.

A Perfect Day in San Sebastian – Part 1

Sundays in Spain are pretty hard to beat.  One can choose church in the morning or, if you were like us, opt to let your 4 year old and 8 month old sleep in after a typically late Spanish Saturday night.  The majority of the morning was rainy and gray so we hunkered down until around 11:00 as the clouds drifted away leaving a blue sky and gleaming cobblestone streets.

Stop 1: Churros

Mrs. NH and Little NH were determined to start their final day in Spain with the classic churros con chocolate.  Considering our late start, we had to travel to the “parte vieja” to find a restaurant offering the tasty breakfast.  The one we found seems to offer delectable churros 24/7.  With breakfast out of the way, it was time to begin on the rest of the culinary day out.

Stop 2: Basque Lessons

I have a pretty good conversational grasp of Spanish.  In the preceding week, I hadn’t missed a lick of conversation with any Spaniard.  However, in La Cepa I was fairly lost.  To this day, I’m not sure if the first conversation I had with the man behind the counter was in heavily accented Spanish or Basque.  Yes, I muddled through and got a plate of delicious pinchos, but I was left stuttering as if it was my first day speaking Spanish.  Confused, I brought the pinchos, sangria and zumo de manzana back to the family; the fellow behind the counter winked and gave me a small brochure with English, Spanish, Basque, Catalan, Dutch and other translations of common phrases and words.  “Ah, ha!” I thought.  “When in País Vasco…”

We gobbled up the pinchos and finished our sangria.  Having studied my translations, I was ready to make my next order as a local.  A Basque local.  “Bat sangria!” I hollered to my ostensible new professor.  He smiled and winked, “Eh, sangria bat! Pero gracias!”  It was a correction, and a good natured ‘thanks for trying.’  It was also my first word in a new language.  No one will ever confuse me for a linguist!

Stop 3: ¡Foie!

San Sebastian is Basque country and that means there is a good mix of French influence in this region.  Considering my weakness for foie gras, it was also a culinary jackpot.  We pulled up napping Little NH2′s stroller outside of Munto Jatetxea and I went in to place the orders in the midst of a bustling Sunday crowd.  I ordered stuffed peppers, out-0f-this-world croquetas for Little NH, and the aforementioned foie.  Ordering the foie gras was almost as fun as eating it.  I relayed my order in Spanish to the sprightly girl behind the counter and she repeated it with incredible vigor over her shoulder to the open door that contained the kitchen.  Seeing my reaction and smile at the power of her voice, she filled a caña and a clara and handed to me with a wide grin.  I. Love. Spain.

Stop 4: Plaza de la Lasta and the Waterfront

Fat and happy from several tapas we decided to take a break from eating and stretch our legs for a short walk to the waterfront.  The sun was now shining brightly and the town of San Sebastian seemed to be cast in Technicolor.  We sat on the pier for an hour, digesting and soaking up the sun while Little NH practiced her Spanish on a group of boys wrestling with a fishing pole twice their combined height.  Approaching them, she yelled, “¡Hola!”  They all gave her a disinterested look and went back to untangling their line.  Realizing that it won’t always be that way, I laughed and began plotting the rest of the day in my mind.  Across the way, a string of seaside restaurants beckoned.  Am I ever not hungry in Spain?

Continue to Part 2.

The Surprise of Pamplona

There are certain places you hear about in the world that you almost feel like you know even if you have never been there.  Names like “Paris” and “Rome” bring up images of the Eiffel Tower and Coliseum respectively, right?  Of course, when you picture, “Pamplona” you picture the running of the bulls, correct?

I thought the same thing up until a couple of weeks ago when the family and I had the good fortune to make a slight alteration to our northern Spain journey and dip into Pamplona for the day.  It was a last-minute decision on the way to San Sebastian and ended up as one of my favorite surprises of the trip.

As it turns out, there were no bulls in the street (despite Little NH’s imagination) but the streets were filled with great restaurants and the plaza mayor was sun-soaked on this fall afternoon.  The old town of the city is warm and hospitable.   The food, as in all of Spain, is top-notch – even in the touristy areas.

Pamplona’s biggest claim to fame isn’t hidden away, however.  Along the streets that make up the 826 meter “encierro” to the Plaza de Toros, are signs that demarcate the path that the bovines take, hot on the trail of targets for their sharp horns.

I don’t know about you but I prefer to find my surprise in the charm of the city rather than the surprise that awaits some poor runner on a sunny day in July – particularly if it comes at the ends of the horns of a bull.

Patatas Alioli

Spanish cooking is very traditional fare.  Unlike other European cultures, there is not a prevalence of foreign foods on offer in the bustling cities of Spain.  There are exceptions, of course.   If one looks hard enough, you can find a smattering of Japanese, pizza and even burger places.  However, the preponderance of cuisine in Spain is very fresh and very Spanish.

That’s why when Mrs. NH and I stumbled across these patatas alioli, we took notice.  It was in a restaurant tucked in a side street at the top of the old town of Tossa de Mar in northeastern Spain called La Lluna.  The patatas arrived piping hot with an inviting garlicky aroma.  The shape was the first thing we noticed.  They were round, restaurant namesake appropriate half-moons of perfectly crispy on the outside, creamy on the inside potatoes.    They were still covered in bubbly tender skin.  The edges of the moons were flaky and crispy and the whole piece was sprinkled with just enough sea salt to really make it zing on the palate.  The alioli was thick but began to melt slightly as it rested on the warm potatoes adding a luxurious creamy texture to the already fluffy, smooth centers of potato.

Mrs. NH and I have always been huge fans of patatas alioli but this batch stands out as one of the most delicious versions we have encountered.  The dish pushed the boundaries of the traditional dish in both shape and pure rustic goodness without leaving behind any of the authenticity.

The dinner at this restaurant was so good that we decided even before we finished our first meal that we would be back again the next night.  As if to punctuate our decision to the friendly and helpful staff, we left proclaiming “hasta mañana!”  Needless to say, we kept our promise.

The National – August 19, 2011 – Divadlo Archa – Prague, Czech Republic

Wednesday night, Brooklyn’s The National took a brief break from their European festival tour and played the Archa Theater in downtown Prague.  The Archa is a great venue and reminds me of a compact version of DC’s legendary 9:30 Club.  When great bands like The National come to Prague to play, I love the place even more.

The National put on a solid, dynamic, atmospheric show from the word go.  Beginning with the muted “Runaway” they played a sampling from their past four albums plus the new “Exile Vilify.”  The National aren’t a “mosh pit” kind of band so there was a lot of vigorous head nodding and toe-tapping during the set.  That said, songs like “Mr. November” and “Mistaken for Strangers” elicited some serious crowd sing-alongs and a generous serving of fist-pumps from the mellow Czech/expat crowd.

The band obviously enjoyed itself and sprinkled its set with amusing stage banter.  Lead singer, Matt Beringer channeled his inner-1908′s Bono and descended into the crowd on two occasions for a sing-along – side by side with the people who had come to see the band.  The second time it happened, it was during the acoustic guitar adorned (and microphoneless) “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks”, a song that up to that point, I hadn’t paid much attention to.  The tune definitely benefited from the stripped down and up close and personal treatment.

The band really delivered at this show.  They crafted a perfectly paced setlist with just enough crescendo to keep it interesting all while keeping their dark, moody melodic groove intact.  It was great to see one of America’s best bands conquer one of the capitals of Europe.

Prague Towers

One day, earlier this summer, I christened this summer the “Summer of Prague Towers”.  Grandiose name notwithstanding, I meant to rally Mrs. NH, consummate planner of all free time, to set aside the coming sunny summer days as time to explore many of the climbable towers of Prague – as a family.  Unfortunately, life and a really rainy summer have gotten in the way of this grand plan and we scaled the first two of our towers today.

I would recommend both to any tourist coming to Prague for even a day.  The fact that we have lived here for seven years and have just now visited them is fairly laughable.  At any rate here are some shots from the towers: The Town Hall Tower and the Charles Bridge Tower.  Both were reasonably priced (free for the kids) and the Town Hall had an elevator for those not willing or able to walk to the top.

Primal Scream – Screamadelica Live – August 7, 2011 Vltavská Cultural Center Prague, Czech Republic

Somewhere, Czechoslovak communists are turning in their graves.

Last night’s show at the Vltavská Cultural Center in Prague had the rock band Primal Scream playing in what appeared to be the basement of a run-down building adorned with old, ugly socialist realism sculptures.  The near atomic combination of the eye-searing, color-saturated, bright visuals and ear bleeding volume of the show must have exorcised the last communist ghost from that old building.

The show was a top to bottom rendition of the landmark 1991 album Screamadelica.  However, the performance was much more than a note for note run through of the LP.  Songs were stretched, deepened and improvised upon until the blistering performance of the album almost lived up to the hype that surrounds it.  Bobby Gillespie and Co. strutted and swaggered through the songs, inspiring the packed crowd to dance, pogo and head nod their way through the set.  The disposition of the crowd was euphoric and ended up being one of the most polite crowds I’ve ever been in  – even while standing about 3 rows from the stage.

Last night was the final night of their European tour.  However, if you happen to be reading this from Japan, do yourself a favor and catch the show.  It’s a powerful performance of a classic album.

Thunder Review: The Replacements – Live: Peony Park Ballroom – Omaha, NE – May 25, 1989

I have forever changed the name of my “Lightning” reviews to “Thunder” reviews.  If you don’t know why, you should buy some Replacements albums.

I was almost 16, had the Don’t Tell a Soul album dubbed on cassette from my college sophomore brother and was determined to get to see this band in Omaha.  It was another hour’s drive past the pilgrimage to Lincoln, the capital.  Lincoln had Football and the University of Nebraska.  Omaha had Peony Park and according to the Sunday Omaha World Herald, Peony Park Ballroom was rock and roll Mecca.

<<Rewind a few years…

The first I had ever heard of the Replacements was from a cassette tape in my brother’s [READ: Dad's] metallic blue Ford Grenada, in the parking lot of Soundwaves records and tapes in Grand Island, Nebraska.  “IOU” came on and it took me no time to become a ‘Mats aficionado.

Fast forward>>

Imagine when my brother came home from college with a 12″ Replacements “Waitress in the Sky” promo single signed by the band – including a scrawled quote that said, “The dog took a crap.”  I’m writing this from memory since mice ate that 12″ single a few years ago in a basement in Kansas City.  However, those little rodents dined on some of the best music ever put to wax.  Just like we did that night back in ’89.

I don’t remember many details about the show, frankly.  I’m too old and the whole event exists in my brain more as a feeling than as a solid memory.  From what I do recall, I was way too young to be there and thanks to the noble efforts of my brother, I was only intoxicated at the end of the concert.  According to my recollection, The Replacements didn’t fare so well.

“Are they going to play ‘Bastards of Youth’?”

The girl that asked me that question was the object of my desires up until the moment she asked that question.  I had kissed her on a late night jungle gym earlier that spring and was instantly smitten.  She and a friend rode with us to the show, all the way from Grand Island, in the back seat.  She just as quickly fell out of favor when she called the song ‘Bastards of Young‘ by the aforementioned, bungled name.  At that point, I didn’t care if she rode on the roof on the way back.  No room for error in Replacements fandom, my dear.

Back to the show:  Peony Park Ballroom was tiny; the ceiling was low and my brother and I drank bourbons and smoked Camels.  The Replacements were semi-coherent, perfectly sloppy, loud and absolutely as great as I thought they would be.  At one point about 2/3 of the way through the show, a pizza sized tray of shots came out to the stage.  They devoured them like, well, pizza.  We roared in approval.  Undoubtedly, we lit another smoke, got another drink and shouted every lyric as if we were in the band.  A bit out of tune, but we meant every note.  Just like the band itself.

The Replacements are legend.  Kind of like thunder.  Hard to explain but you sure know when you hear it.  Especially when you’re a kid in the Peony Park Ballroom.

Lightning Review: Stanton T.62

It’s 9:45, the kids are asleep, I’m halfway into a bottle of Cabernet and the Replacements “Waitress in the Sky” is pouring out of my speakers.  Hello, mid-life-crisis.  I think I love you.

My Stanton T.62 is set up and spinning my collection.  It’s kind of forcing me to slow down and listen to the music.  Hell, when the first side is over, the needle doesn’t even go back to the start.  You have to get your butt off the couch, gather your faculties and lift it yourself.  That’s the real definition of interactivity.  Take that Google +!

There’s a bit of a buzz from the ground I made immediately following preparation of a ziti dinner.  I used a United Airlines headphones set (one of the double pronged ones) for the ground wire.  Vinyl makes me multi-task my rear end off.  Did I mention how much I’m loving this?

Side one is over, back in a second….

“We are the sons of no one!!!!”  OK, sorry.  That’s just the start of side two.

What more can I say about this turntable.  It sounds great.  It looks cool; the strobe on the left shows me that even through a voltage converter, this direct-drive baby tracks perfectly.  The white light bathing the stylus in illumination just adds to the fetish.  It’d only be sweeter in red.  With a really small lady dancing on top.

I’d rate this a strong buy.  Nothing like the battery powered number I bought and returned a few months back.

“Here Comes A Regular” is over.

Well hello, Pleased to Meet Me.  I love 180 gram reissues. Goodbye Amazon birthday gift certificates.  See you at 39.

A “Hacked” Ikea Hol and Stanton T-62 Turntable

Now how’s that for a cryptic post title?

Those of you that have spent any time on my blog know that I am smitten with vinyl records.  I finally got my Stanton T62 turntable after my birthday a few days back and needed a place to put it in our 2 bedroom apartment occupied by four.  I found it in the Ikea Hol – about a $50 purchase at an Ikea in Prague.  After about 5 minutes of initial assembly and 1 hour of modifying it according to the Instructables.com tutorial, I’ve got a handsome, functional turntable stand.  The bottom portion houses my modest collection of vinyl and allows me to tuck it away (hopefully) out of the reach of a soon-to-be-crawling Little NH2.  Now, as soon as the pre-amp shows up in the mail, I’ll be all ready to use it.  Stay tuned.