Trick & Fancy: Appalachia CT

Dear Mouse,

I think this fictional Appalachian Family Band might be on to something:

Yes that is me, up left. Objects on the warped left side of this picture are thinner than they appear.

"Oh, Hotcake, Flapjack, put 'em on a griddle

Hotcake, Flapjack, play a little fiddle

Put 'em on a griddle and you play a little fiddle and you

Have yourself a real good time

Oh have yourself a real good time

Don't pay your troubles any mind

Have yourself a real good time!"

- Don Chaffer, "Son of a Gun" (winner: 2011 O'Neill Lyricist Award)

Besides being amazacrazily catchy, this foot-stompin' tune hones in on the two basic ingredients of Bliss (aka Real Good Time):

1.Music (including but not necessarily limited to the fiddle)

2.Food (including but not necessarily limited to hotcakes and/or flapjacks.)

Ok there's at least one other important element I can think of, but this is a family blog after all.

So it's my birthday!! Again! Or was when I started this post! And I am so pleased and thankful to havve spent it where I did: back up at this idyllic oasis in CT, surrounded by emerging illuminati of american Music Theatre (I'll miss the Playwrights Conference this time; sniff) and some truly bad-ass folk/country/rock musicians out of Nashville and NYC, putting up a glorious show in (wait for it) "The Barn".

These people are rehearsing. AND relaxing. "Hearslaxing"? I'll come back to this.

Yes, Real Good Times were abundant both onstage and off. My birthday started with a return to this legendary joint for brunch (GET the corned beef hash even if you think you don't like it, and be warned that Doreen has ditched the guns in favor of making customers wait tables). In the evening we had a performance of the show followed by an epic jam session that ended with me picking shards of glass out of the smiling drummer's forearm as he continued to play). THAT's a birthday.

The title of this post comes from a conversation I had with this guy about his life as a fiddle player:

Obviously he's already past the flapjacks.

Turns out that in competitive fiddling (hee hee), there's often a division called "Trick & Fancy" in which competitors don't just play tunes, they, well, do tricks. Fancy ones. Like fiddling behind your head, or using an unorthodox bowing style, or showing off other unexpected feats of bravado and strength. I fell in love with this expression and immediately tried to think of a way to use it when talking about food (natch).

Gratuitous Clambake shot. July 4: chilled rose and free lobster. Not pictured: plastic bib, foolish grin, steamers, corn, the fact that I had already eaten an entire dinner before this.

You see, folks, when you're on the road, not every meal is a clambake. (Segue!) And even at the best of all Summer Theatre Camps, when it comes to cafeteria food it's generally agreed that the price you pay for - well, paying no price at all - is food that is barely digestible.

(Not true this year, I hasten to say. Apparently they brought in a guy from Whole Foods and it really worked wonders. However, three words to the wise: Instant. Starbucks. Packets. Put 'em in Yer Suitcase, Nothing Rhymes with Suitcase, Have Yerself a Real Good Time.)

I started thinking about the many Trick & Fancy tips I've heard from fellow performers over the years re dealing with Food on the Road. There's my friend MS, who swears she lived on instant oatmeal with peanut butter packets for many's a hotel room buffet breakfast on tour. (I now do that as well.) I remembered Dennis' neverending bags of nuts and dried fruit secreted in rehearsal room cupboards in Louisville. At the O'Neill, my new friend Elmadora would eschew the mysterious bins of salad dressing to concoct her own from honey, olive oil, balsamic, and lemon juice packets.

My goal was to have a blog post full of cafeteria survival recipes but I only got one, which came to me by way of the Khrusty Family Band's Drummer:

Would you drink something he made? Course you would.

This Nashville resident sports a keen sense of rhythm, a Zeppelin tattoo, and a love of iced tea strong enough to wake entrepreneurial instincts when he discovered there was no sweet tea for the non-coffee drinkers. I'm using his real name (a first) because I couldn't bear to change it. Weary travelers, I give you -

Billy Brimblecom, Jr.'s Cafeteria Iced Tea

Get a glass (big cup?) of hot water and a tea bag.

Steep tea bag in water to desired strength.

Get another glass (big cup?) full of ice.

Wait and watch.

Pour steeped hot tea into glass of ice.

Shake or stir.

Boom! Iced tea in the cafeteria!

So there you have it. What a summer so far! Oh, and speaking of Trick & Fancy, our whole cast received cups of this as a parting gift from one of the guys on the tech staff:

Bourbon Slush. I kid you not. Hold on, I will get that recipe if it's the last thing I do.

Thanks, CT. It was a Real Good Time.

Love,

The Boo

Jersey Shore, Fo Sho

Dear Boo,

We did it!! The Boyfriend and I actually packed up our bags, booked out from work and auditions, dropped a scary chunk of change, and took off for the open road. Cape May was the destination. Goals: sand, surf, seafood, rest, and some QT with my cutie. tee hee. Mission? Mostly accomplished. I've gotta say, and it is with a heavy heart that I do so, that we didn't eat that well!! I'll say this was half our fault, for not planning ahead and making reservations and trying to cut financial corners, thusly ending up picking restaurants while hungry, based on what would feed us fastest. Also, as the Boyfriend pointed out, our approach was all wrong. We'd figured seafood was the way to go, this being a shore town and all, when I think really we should have just gone with what was recommended and looked good. Because ultimately, the seafood we had just wasn't all that. I repeat: this may have been partially our fault.

Regardless, we had a great time. Cape May is a amalgam of ornate Victorian homes, tree-lined streets, miles of wide sandy beaches, cobblestone paths, soda fountains, wildflowers, and your typical shore fare of ice cream shops, arcades, bikini stores, mini-golf, and bars with names like "Cabanas" (yes, we went there). I gotta say--and you KNOW how I LOVE me some Jersey--you can restore Victorian mansions, build first-class hotels, keep the shoreline pristine, charge $30 a plate for dinner, but I'll be damned if this ain't still the JERSEY SHORE. If you knowwhatimean. And I think you do.

The Best Parts:
The Humphrey Hughes House. We picked it fairly blindly, and our hosts reminded me at every stage of booking "Le Petit Room" that the room was VERY small. I was a little afraid we'd end the weekend hanging ourselves from the pipes in a converted broom closet under the stairs in a psychotic episode of claustrophobia. I should have known, coming from a small Manhattan apartment, that the room would be just our size. Yes, the Boyfriend is a large person and could have used a couple of extra feet at the foot of the bed, but aren't you supposed to cozy up when you're away for a weekend? The location is perfect--half a block from the beach, and just a block or two in either direction to all the dining and shopping and ice cream action you could want. The owners were friendly but not in our face--another fear with bed & breakfasts. We were shown to our room and upon closing the door, burst out into giggles and whispers. There's something about a B&B that just makes you feel like you're doing something you shouldn't be.



The breakfasts. Lucky for us anti-social folks, in the warmer months breakfast is served on the porch at tables for two. I particularly liked the carved sweet potato figurines--one morning a cockatoo, another a goose. The Boyfriend particularly liked the extra baked goodie brought around to our table every morning. Here's something interesting--I've always thought there was something wrong with me that I have SUCH a hard time waking up in the morning, no matter how early I go to bed. Turns out, when I have to be at breakfast at 9 or risk missing out on a hot apple turnover, I rise and shine, singing like a dove. Fascinating.

The bedside sherry in our room. Such a lovely touch, especially when you can drink it after dinner in a rocking chair, on the wraparound porch, with the salty beach air tousling your hair.

Porches are also good for drinking prosecco or having an evening snack of complimentary port with pretzels and homemade cookies. Not that we did that or anything...

Frozen Custard. Need I say more?


The day the skies chose to open up in cascading buckets, we made our daytime activity a trip to The Lobster House--the one place we had to drive to all weekend. While it didn't blow us away (perhaps this was our fault as well as we should have just stuck to the lobster), there were a couple of standouts. The bread. An entire loaf, served warm, crusty on the outside and dotted with poppyseeds, onion, and salt crystals, it made a mockery of the tiny cutting board it was served on, held in place by a steak knife. That's whati'mtalkingabout.

And the steamed clams were just perfect. You know how I love food that comes with dipping sauce.
The beach. Most delicious of all.

The sunset from Sunset Beach. Walk to the end of the promenade and you're at the very tip of Jersey where you can see the sunset which is hard to catch here on the East Coast. The Boyfriend will tell you we missed the actual sunset but as far as I'm concerned, pink and orange clouds + twilight= sunset. harumph.

Back to reality. Sigh. At least I've got the complimentary Humphrey Hughes House Cookbook to comfort me. I hope it can teach me how to make a sweet potato giraffe.

Love,

The Mouse

P.S. We also really liked listening to the free blues show at The Boiler Room at Congress Hall, and dinner at Gecko's, but I have no pictures. Guess we'll have to make another trip. The things we do for art.

P.P.S. If you're going to Cape May, I'd also recommend staying at our friend's great house right on the beach, the May Caper. I hear there are margaritas on the porch if you're lucky...