K.J. Stone

Slab Bar-B-Que Shoots to the Top

October 12, 2018 by K.J. Stone

How many marks of excellence does a BBQ house needs to become a return destination? Not many; but each one is critical if you want that repeat business to be assured. Your product can’t be dry, bland or skimpy. Good BBQ is meaty, succulent, flavorful and, if the Q gods are in the house, bountiful for the price. That’s why there’s usually a large and unexpected mix of humanity clustered in the front of Slab BBQ on 71^st St. during the lunch and dinner hours.

One Saturday a young guy from Skokie said he made the pilgrimage to Slab because a buddy of his raved about the barbeque. After doing a little voice tally with everybody else waiting for their orders, it turned out every one of us was a brand-new customer. All had high expectations to match the high spirits in the air. One woman shared what she didn’t like about another (highly regarded) BBQ establishment on the south side. And she was anything but charitable.

A worker going about his chores in the front of the house and wearing a slightly risqué T shirt alluding to his manliness kept announcing, “Once you eat these ribs you will definitely be back for more! And you should try the greens! They’re good!”

Friendly and sincere, his banter added to the lighthearted air of anticipation. Our order, simple and direct, would put the restaurant to the test: a full slab of St. Louis ribs and a large order of rib tips. Rather than go for the greens as a side, something said give the baked beans a go. Shouldn’t have listened. Thin and sweet, they didn’t have either the hoped-for heft or zing. But once teeth sank into the ribs and tips, the mediocrity of the beans was immediately pardoned.

Unless you’re a purist, you too probably don’t understand the tradition of putting a couple of pieces of white bread and fries on top of a BBQ order. It’s so pervasive you might as well regard it as sacrosanct. They seem to do it everywhere and Slab’s no exception. Both the bread and the fries end up as soggy and unappetizing roadblocks to the main event.

During the first Slab experience, both the rib slab and the rib tips were incredibly perfect. Each was so moist they were almost juicy. The slightest pull brought the meat from the bone and initiated a wonderful chew. Meat and sauce blended in heavenly harmony. They were the kind of ribs that make you want to be greedy.

Several weeks later, fulfilling the worker’s prophesy, a return visit saw the order vary only slightly. This time though all sauce was on the side. One mild and one hot. Behind the glass wall was a beehive of hyperactivity as orders flew, meat met flame, and meals got packaged. The young cashier remained peach cobbler sweet as she tweaked orders to customer specifications and rang up transactions. “No bread and fries. No worries.”

Even though both ribs and tips retained that wonderful tenderness and natural sweetness, we’ll go back to having the sauce lightly lacquered onto the meat by fire. Penetrating the flesh just enough to bond the two complimentary flavors, and brought together by some excellent queing techniques, the ribs at this latest entry into the BBQ wars can contend with the best. If this keeps up, Slab BBQ will be staying on the destination list for some time to come.

Slab Bar-B-Que

1918 E. 71^st

Chicago, IL 60649

773-966-5018

slabbq.com

FoodBowl ?!

August 29, 2018 by K.J. Stone

Even with the Tribune’s official announcement of its three-week long eating extravaganza dubbed the Chicago Tribune Food Bowl, it was pretty hard to determine exactly why this mega event was taking place.

A little scratching revealed the newspaper is emulating its one time sister paper, the Los Angeles Time’s and its super successful May event of the same name. By saying L.A.’s a place where a lot of fun things happen in bowls, like the Rose Bowl and the Hollywood Bowl, L.A. offered a reason for calling their festival a “food bowl”. Similar explanations were curiously missing from the Tribune’s promotional publications. Also, in Los Angeles, the event places a strong emphasis on altruism by “promoting conversation of sustainability, food waste and hunger”. Such aspirations are notably absent in Chicago’s iteration of the festival.

But let the comparisons end there. The two cities took very different approaches to the party and we were interested to see exactly what the Chicago festival “felt” like. If the two events we hooked into were any clue, it’s all about having fun in an elevated form of sport dining.

Scene from Tribune’s Food Bowl launch announcement at Cindy’s Rooftop photo by Chicago Tribune

With over 100 venues offering wonderfully tempting things to eat, the festival covers a lot of ground. You could hitch your star to a Chinese cuisine boat as it putts from downtown to Chinatown, go cheese crazy at an evening with Bistronomic or hang out with Bill Kim and his Korean chef posse as they do BBQ home-style on bellyQ’s patio.

Panel discussions on topics central to the restaurant industry were held throughout the three weeks. Food related tours and functions that entailed pouring were also be available.

For us, it was farm to table rooftop dining at the Marriott on the Mag mile and a mixology demonstration with pro tips at Remedy’s in Wicker Park that lured us in.

Despite the roof top part of the Marriott event not happening, the consolation prize of dining in the kitchen turned out to be more than satisfying. Besides, it’s always best not to gamble with Mother Nature when thunderstorms are in the forecast.

Kicking off early at 5:30 or 6, the evening began sedately in a sleek and sparsely furnished meeting space converted into an impromptu lounge. Lovely hors d’oeuvres, champagne and Sophia beer were generously served. Each guest was assigned a table before they were escorted to the cavernous kitchen. Five or six tables with seven people per made it intimate and low lights added a sense of adventure.

Using a number of ingredients grown on the hotel’s rooftop garden, the five-course meal included heritage prairie greens, cured whitefish, smoked chicken, steak roulade and a thoroughly original strawberry basil shortcake. Each course was paired with an excellent wine or beer option.

Ample servings and pours from seemingly bottomless bottles encouraged conversation and it wasn’t long before each table was swimming in a sea of words. Ours was made up of a Floridian couple celebrating a respectfully numbered anniversary, a spunky birthday girl flanked by her spirited entourage, a refugee from Milwaukee hungry for art and the curious. Marriott’s Executive Chef, Frank Sanchez proved the most congenial of hosts as he provided the inspiration and reviewed the preparation of each dish.

As worthy as it was of its 80 bucks per head price tag, the totally free mixology event at Remedy was right on the Marriott’s heels according to the fun meter. Showing up early to insure ringside seating proved completely unnecessary. Only eight souls ventured out to get the skinny on cocktails that night.

At first, nobody at the bar seemed to know what was going on. “I think they’re doing it at that end of the bar”, the attending bartender said a little warily. She hadn’t been briefed on the Food Bowl concept and was waiting for someone with more knowledge to show up. In the meantime, the drinking acolytes continued to trickle in.

Over custom gin based cocktails, the Rhubarbarella and the Puns and Roses, a lot of experienced knowledge, useful advice and genuine encouragement got passed our way by the time everything wound down two hours in. Don’t be reticent about experimenting with bitters. One dash can alter an experience and black walnut is particularly versatile. Selecting ingredients to complement or contrast flavors is a learned skill. You have to do in order to become proficient. And Imbibe magazine is a great resource that’s well respected in the industry.

The Food Bowl was proving enlightening as well as entertaining. But I can’t help but wonder, where’s the heart?

Chicago Tribune Food Bowl

August 8 – August 26, 2018

www.ctfoodbowl.com

Band of Bohemia – Paradise on Ravenswood

June 26, 2018 by K.J. Stone

If there was ever a restaurant in Chicago achieving a perfect balance, it would be Band of Bohemia. Nailing the basics with their exceptionally prepared dishes and sophisticated approach to a complete dining experience, they’ve moved on to conquer higher peaks. Distinguishing itself by making food far better than most, the restaurant’s leadership has also built an alliance between the kitchen and the floor staff that compliments both. It may be their success in doing so that explains their Michelin star.

In its neighborhood digs a little south of Lawrence on Ravenswood, the vibe is total chill. After all, Band of Bohemia is technically a brew pub since they make their own beer. And as such, you’d expect a certain non-chalance. But most brew pubs don’t feature upholstered furniture, dense exotic curtains and custom cloth napkins. And, because the restaurant also serves very high quality food along with their booze, they can just as accurately be termed a gastropub. Since beer is their touchstone, every dish is composed to complement it.

Comprised of three connecting spaces, the first two open to an expansive high ceilinged dining room that is overflowing with visual riches. Fabric, metals and wood combine to make up a room that is inviting, comfortable and completely happy with its unorthodox good looks. A large, long and welcoming bar acts as the bulwark for the large kitchen a distance behind it. Attractive ambient lighting abounds and adds to the spaces warmth; encouraging both conversation and conviviality.

As good as the beer may be, it is only nominally the star. Phenomenal attention is given to the food. There’s also a gentle but determined emphasis on making sure you understand what you’ll be eating. Everyone in the waitstaff seems to know the menu well and are able to talk about its nuances. “Is the coconut broth with the halibut noticeably sweet?” “No, not really. You taste the coconut but it’s leavened with other spices that makes it an accent; not overly dominant.” They could have gone on to say that the broth, painting the palette as it did with coconut and Asian flavors, was arrestingly delicious. Chinese sausage, ramps and endive rounded out the plate and enhanced the halibut and its wonderful broth beautifully.

If you like texture and the way it can be used to playfully tease as well as satisfy, you’ll love the fried eggplant. Word play is a popular sport in the restaurant business and Band of Bohemia has decided to theme their menu like symphonies. Appetizers are prefaces and interludes are small plates. The eggplant is a preface that has its true origins in Mexico because the naan plays the part of a tortilla. Everything else is assembled in its circle with the eggplant leading.

It’s kind of remarkable because nothing is blanketing the radishes, chilies, eggplant or herbs to the point they are overwhelmed. The aioli is a light connecting thread that pulls all of the components together and gives the freshness and textures of each of them a chance to shine.

Describing his food as progressive American, chef Ian Davis has played at the top of the food game in both London and New York before choosing to redirect his destiny to Chicago. It’s difficult to fathom the depth of attention to detail needed to captain a starship like Band of Bohemia. Davis credits mentor Matt Rudofker at New York’s Momofuku Saãm Bar for his zeal for detail. It’s the detail that gets you closer to perfection and at Band of Bohemia you can taste it in every bite. Without it the magic would completely disintegrate.

Some things are better not ordered if you lean toward the ravenous when you dine out. A dish may be delectable, but it may not be substantial. The lamb saddle is a good example. A premium cut of the lamb’s flank, the actual amount of meat may be 4 ounces. With just a sprinkling of fava beans, petite greens, lamb bacon and crisp polenta like fingers called panisse, it is an elfin portion even though it sits in the conclusion (entrée) section of the menu. You definitely won’t walk away bloated and may be a little disappointed if one of your purposes was to leave with a topped-out tank.

Reimagined desserts are as interesting and delicious as any of the restaurant’s offering. Some, like the wonderful milk chocolate crème brûlée with cashews, green tea sponge cake and yuzu sorbet are even head turners sitting in its glass terrarium bowl. And it tastes as beautiful as it looks.

Band of Bohemia

4710 N. Ravenswood

Chicago, IL 60640

773-271-4710

info@bandofbohemia.com

Closed Mondays

Tues – Sun Dinner Only

Brunch – Sat & Sun 10 – 2

Finally. Boka!

April 7, 2018 by K.J. Stone

We expected a level of affectation. Some kind of reputational gloat. Both were completely not present. Everything at Boka was unassuming and regular. Busy night, lots of people, restrained class in the midst of bustle. And an added surprise at the host stand. Unconventional beauty that was also pleasant. All adventures should cast off so nicely.

Even with reservations, the wait for a table as took several minutes but was hardly outrageous. There was a bit of a wait for the table even with reservations. The bar was full as was every table in sight. Staying out of the way of the wait staff as we stood awkwardly in a corner was just a practical courtesy. And the tactic made it better to watch the flow of culinary commerce.

There was an initial error in judgment. Noted for their cocktails, it was easy to fall prey to presumptions. If mixology is one of Boka’s trademarks, then all of their drinks must be good. Wrong of course. No palette is universally receptive to everything and the Devil’s Picnic with its sweet notes and frothy egg white topping may have been better suited to a more feminine palette. I should have asked what would have been closer to a Manhattan or an Old Fashioned. It’s always interesting to see those two reimagined in new millennium garb. Still, the drink proved interesting as it seemed to skirt two different spirit worlds. One sour, one sweet.

The austere refinement of the dining rooms served to place all of the emphasis on people. At night, Boka feels like a confident in its own skin supper club. The space was a quiet canvas and the diners were its ornamentation. Every table sat in ease and contented comfort as people talked and ate. It was a space that encouraged you to leave your cares at the door. That same nonchalance did not extend to the staff. Although there was plenty of hustle, nothing was loud or distracting. A soft undercurrent of tension could only be detected on looks of focused concentration on some of the staff’s faces. It was completely absent from Matthew’s. Disarmingly in control and knowledgeable, he quickly and casually dispensed with the preliminaries of water preferences and dietary concerns. It was clear as the evening progressed that he was listening intently. As courses arrived, some had been subtly adapted to accommodate the few concerns that were shared.

One appetizer, complimentary, startled us for both its flavor and its composition. Carrots had been smoked and diced to the point they had the appearance and flavor of smoked salmon. Spread on a thin toast and topped with a nori wafer, it had the texture and taste of a delightfully smoked fish. With the brininess of the seaweed adding to the subterfuge, you’d never guess it was completely vegan.

But It was the ordered starter that cemented how remarkable Boka is and has been since 2003. The braised Spanish octopus with fennel, horseradish and burnt hazelnut was substantial and brilliantly delicate; making every morsel a delight and a wonder.

Kitchens like Boka’s are concentrations of techniques that may be as arcane as they are effective in delivering outstanding results. The seared monkfish with cauliflower, apple and smoked trout roe was the kind of meal that stymies comprehension. The vegetables, fruit and fish eggs were complementary brush strokes of flavor that intensified

Complimentary after dinner tea cakes and truffles

the sweetness of the monkfish with its beautifully seared exterior and its soft and flaky flesh.

It’s understandable why some would think the sous vide method of cooking could have been used to create this marvelous outcome. But it didn’t. The process was still French. First the fish is cooked in oil and then elaborately seared in various butter preparations; including clarified butter that allows heating at a higher temperature. In total the preparation takes about 5 minutes and the results couldn’t be more spectacular.

Respect for Boka’s culinary prowess and now enlivened with curiosity about others treasures being created in that sensational kitchen means that a Boka prix fixe has bolted onto the wish list. And hopefully before they turn on Buckingham Fountain.

Latin Spiced Jazz Ignites Symphony Center

March 8, 2018 by K.J. Stone

Lots of people who adore jazz have only a passing appreciation of how other cultures contribute to the form. The impact of two small islands in the Caribbean Sea are especially noteworthy. For decades, American jazz musicians have both sought inspiration from these cultures and cultivated an eager audience for jazz originating from the United States. Both Puerto Rico and Cuba have proven to be cauldrons of creativity and innovation producing greats like Tito Puente born in New York City to Puerto Rican parents and the illustrious Afro Cuban virtuoso Chucho Valdés.

Friday night’s outstanding performance at Orchestra Hall (Symphony Center) had a Cuban focus and featured the exceptional jazz pianist Gonzalo Rubalcaba as well as that of the peerless Valdés. Although they hail from different generations, they are perfectly matched. Two jazz pianists, to quote a woman seated in the row immediately behind us, who are “on another level”. That level is exceedingly high. Extraordinarily gifted piano virtuosos who intimately know the texture of music of two worlds; their program weaved between standards intimately familiar to an American audience and work soaked in the sounds of Cuba and Latin America.

A technical perfectionist whose intricate piano work is rife with complexity, Rubalcaba’s fingers seemed hardly to touch the keys as he produced some of the most sublime music anyone could hope to enjoy.

His 50-year long career as a professional artist endows Valdés with much more than technical expertise. He has such an innate sense of timing and phrasing; both the younger Rubalcaba and the audience shook their heads in wonder. To hear their combined rendition of “Over the Rainbow”, as performed that evening, was a gift. The piano duet reminded you of the incredible range of the instrument and its capability to take on so many emotional hues.

In the balcony’s front row, an 8-year-old in short blond pigtails stared intently down on the stage. Occasionally her fingers would rise to the rail and quietly run through the motions of playing. An ideal example of the power of music to move the young.

Chicago Symphony Center Jazz Series

Chucho Valdes and Gonzalo Rubalcaba

Symphony Center

February 23, 2018

8:00 pm

220 S. Michigan Ave.

Chicago, IL 60604

2018 Restaurant Week Primer

February 2, 2018 by K.J. Stone

Even though it seems like restaurant week has been around since David slew Goliath, it’s only eleven years old. Organized in 2007 to entice people out of their homes and into dining establishments in the middle of winter, it’s proven a roaring success. The number of participating restaurants continues to grow and the public’s interest shows no sign of waning. This year, there will be 370 restaurants dangling the alluring restaurant week carrot; up from 349 last year. The question always becomes, which of those carrots are truly delicious? And because it’s restaurant week, which is the best deal?

With so many restaurants in the game, there are bound to be more than a few that you may have had on your wanna visit wish list. In order to make sure that visit is all that you hoped for, a little planning is advisable.

Some establishments make their participation in restaurant week a commitment to show their best work. Others do not and create dishes that don’t reflect the character or quality of their standard cuisine.

To help diners make more informed choices, both the Chicago Tribune and Chicago Magazine put boots on the ground and tapped into past experience to give a heads up on this year’s lineup. Combined, their efforts help us to make more informed decisions and learn the indicators that point to a good or bad choice.

Cost breakdown is straightforward. Lunch/Brunch $22. Dinner $33. Usually the dinner cost is for three courses. A few restaurants will offer four courses for the same amount. Most commonly though restaurants offering four course restaurant week menus will charge $44 for them. More and more establishments are putting their restaurant week menus on line so you can check which is the case for the restaurant(s) you’re most interested in. It also gives you a chance to see how intriguing their restaurant week menus are.

Both the Tribune and Chicago Magazine agreed on a few sure hits; Naha and Marisol among them. A little homework and a little luck should insure your Restaurant Week experience will whet your appetite for a repeat excursion next year.

Restaurant Week begins January 26th and ends February 8th.

http://www.chicagotribune.com/dining/restaurants/ct-restaurant-week-chicago-reviews-20180129-storygallery.html

http://www.chicagomag.com/dining-drinking/January-2018/Restaurant-Week-2018/

Garifuna Flava: Flavor Oasis in Chicago Lawn

January 20, 2018 by K.J. Stone

When the hunt is on for good jerk chicken in Chicago, don’t assume an easy outing. That may be because the city lacks the large number of people of Caribbean heritage who make Chicago home as they do in New York and Toronto. That dearth is reflected in our culinary landscape. Thankfully there’s a quiet little spot on west 63^rd filling the void by offering a number of superb examples of fare characteristic of the region.

Garifuna Flava is a husband, wife and kids operation that’s been making Chicago a better place to eat for the past 10 years. The family hails from Belize on central America’s eastern coast and a thousand sea miles from Jamaica. That distance means that the similarities between the two cuisines is not really that great. Based on a recent visit to the restaurant, the Belizean take on at least one Caribbean standard, jerk chicken, equals or out shines what you’d expect to find in Kingston.

A lot of that has to do with the fullness of the restaurant’s flavor spectrum and the consistently high quality of the food’s preparation. When they opened up shop, the neighborhood just assumed it would be a place to get jerk chicken because the word “Caribbean” emblazoned on the restaurant’s awning. And because that expectation was voiced with such frequency, Garifuna Flava not only put it on the menu; they made sure it was both authentic and excellent.

Much of the restaurant’s success rests in the hands of Yolanda Castillo, the chef. When you can prepare food as well as she does so consistently and so intuitively well, you almost have an obligation to share it with the world. With the help of Caribbean and African purveyors, she’s able to use herbs and spices unique to her home country to conjure magic in her kitchen.

The rice and beans, already delicious without adornment, get another jolt of wonderful flavor with a sauce from the restaurant’s stewed chicken poured over them. The jerk chicken, already jacketed in heat when they hit the plate, can be further ignited with its own delectable special sauce. Afro-Belizean food is a mixture of Central American, Caribbean and African influences that coalesce into its own distinctive cuisine. Some specialties are only available on the weekend like the fried monkfish served in an incredible coconut milk broth. Succulent and softly sweet plantains are plentiful and the stewed cabbage is tender and subtle.

Others have noticed how well the restaurant does what it does. Chowhound loves the place, it’s been featured on Check Please and Guy Fieri profiled Garifuna Flava on his triple D show a few years back.

The restaurant takes its name from the people. The Castillos are Garifunans, people of Central American, Indian and African extraction who populate the tiny country of just over a half million. It would be foolish to think their small numbers restricts their inventiveness. Refreshing and light, the restaurant’s Belizean Long Island Iced Tea is a delicious surprise that pairs beautifully with much of the restaurants fare. Made with rum, vodka, gin and “juices”, it’s also an indulgence that requires restraint. It’s also a splendid reason to return.

Hamilton Aging Beautifully in Chicago

December 24, 2017 by K.J. Stone

“He’s a genius” kept passing peoples lips when the lights went up for intermission at Hamilton in the old Schubert Theater last night. Even the jaded and sophisticated had to nod to agreement. That one man could both write and compose such a feat of ingenuity strains comprehension.

Despite being a well-seasoned two-year-old, the musical retains every bit of its freshness and edge. The superb script and exceptional acting were completely expected. Other performance surprises that took the play from spectacular to great were not.

Among the 11 Tony awards the musical received last year, Andy Blankenbuehler’s choreography was one of them. Charged with recreating that dance magic in Chicago, Michael Balderrama, resident choreographer for the Chicago show, appears to have exceeded all expectations. The dancing became another character on the stage that responded, moved, mirrored and accentuated both the dialog and the action of the play. Dancers in the ensemble took precision to soaring heights; making the choreography flow like living silk.

A moving circle imbedded in the stage turned out to be yet another unexpected star of the show. Spinning slowly like a record on a turntable, it brought another layer of visual dimension to the performance and added a fascinating visual experience.

Ari Asfar and Miguel Cervantes attend curtain call

Opening in a beautiful musical cadence, the play unfurled to introduce characters and set the pace of the show. The sense of excitement planted during that beginning never flagged.

Miranda understands that regardless of our individual gifts, talents, levels of ambition or the dimensions of our egos, we are all human. And as people, we are all flawed. He brought his interpretations of the people he read about in Ron Chernow’s biography and turned his understanding of them into flesh, bones, heart and soul. And, as everyone knows, he did it in voices that come straight off the streets of present day America with actors who look much like the people you’ll find on any downtown street of a thriving city.

Talking to her husband, a woman sitting to the right said, “he’s being portrayed as a hard ass”. She was right, to a point. Hamilton had something to prove and was doggedly ambitious. That kind of personality gets noticed and resented. It’s a major reason why his mentor; later to become his arch rival, Aaron Burr, advised him, “Talk less, smile more”. Of course he didn’t. Greatness often only listens to itself and Hamilton wasn’t about “to waste his shot”.

Miguel Cervantes’ Hamilton had all the hutzpah of a gifted striver. A brilliant and prolific wordsmith, Hamilton’s pen was as adroit at shaping opinion as his tongue. For someone who wasn’t born in this country and whose family connections were non-existent, those who thought themselves better suited for recognition and political distinction bristled at the rawness of his determination. Those rivalries and side trips into political intrigue were turned out to be added gloss that added to the play’s brilliance. Not only was the intensity of the conflicts starkly drawn, the characters themselves were equally well developed.

Alexander Gemignani, outrageous and erudite in his role as King George, was an instant hit as he amped up the pomp while spewing humorous vitriol concerning the wayward colonies in the Americas. But behind those clever lines was incalculable loathing that helped reveal the delicate and tenuous health of a fledgling democracy.

Hamilton’s feud with Thomas Jefferson took on a very high public profile. And the energy of their enmity was accentuated with color blind casting. Not only did a black actor portray Jefferson, he expressed himself with grit, as well as eloquence, and employed street sass to embellish his intellectual arguments. Cervantes’ Hamilton did the same thing making them cerebral equals and fearsome adversaries.

Private stories happen within public ones and the nature of Hamilton’s private life proved pivotal in understanding the man. And it was in this realm that women captivated. The play gave them depth and intelligence as well as compassion and forgiveness. Ari Afsar as Hamilton’s wife Eliza was like iron that refused to melt after weathering the loss of an only son and her husband’s infidelity. And Montego Glover as her sister, Angelica Schuyler, placed in high relief the formidability of two highly intelligent focused minds.

The play was top heavy with many splendid individual performances. The duel culminating Hamilton was simply the brandy marinated heritage cherry complimenting the final taste of a superb Manhattan.

Lundy Debut’s Chicago?!

December 8, 2017 by K.J. Stone Leave a Comment

Throughout her thriving four decades long career of impressing the world with her singing talents, Carmen Lundy has also proven that her gifts extend far beyond her voice. A multi- instrumentalist who writes virtually all of the songs that she performs (she can boast scores to her credit), her inner muse has also allowed her to assemble some of the most talented musicians in the world of jazz as her band members. Any jazz vocalist would welcome accolades that praise her skills of interpretation, her stylistic acumen or the genuineness of her expression. Lundy has been showered with acclaim for all of that for what might as well be forever. And mysteriously, she never comes to Chicago, until now.

Her gifts as a bandleader, lyricist and singer that were all on imposing display at the Jazz Showcase last weekend. Often referred to as the “real deal” when it comes to her singing style as a vocalist, there is an undefinable something that characterizes her delivery, the emotional content of her material and manner in which she “lives” the song. You can call her material deep or you could call it emotionally perceptive. However it’s characterized, the superb quality of both, rendered with a voice that’s so beautifully polished and masterfully controlled, it easily dazzles with technique alone.

Lundy is far too accomplished a performer though to allow mere method to carry the day. People come to a jazz performance to feel with their minds as well as their souls. Whether the tempo is up or down, listeners want to be drawn in and experience the core embers that give a song its purpose. Lundy’s opening number, Live Out Loud, a gentle and compelling plea to live life fully “or never live at all” let the audience know that they were in a special room at a special time Sunday night. She so fully gave herself to the song that there was no question of either her sincerity or the simmering urgency of her message. That rendition accomplished two things at once. It affirmed how the petite Lundy reached the high stature she’s attained as a jazz singer and it placed in high relief the exemplary quality of her band.

Chicago, as much a music town as it is anything else, loves R & B. There was a time when Lundy’s pianist, Patrice Rushen, was all over that world. The first woman to act as musical director of the Grammy’s in 2004, Rushen straddled the continents of jazz and R & B for years before finally settling luxuriously in the jazz camp. Many in the audience remembered and appreciated the old Rushen as much as it does the new one and were quite enthusiastic in their appreciation for the incarnation performing that night. Rushen’s standing in the jazz world is lofty and the rest of Lundy’s quartet enjoys similar regard. Jeff Parker on guitar and Kenny Davis on bass are coveted side men who were as flawless and as they were innovative all evening; while Jamison Ross smoothly feathered drums.

The show’s repertoire included the reflective I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings from her Solamente album and the charmingly quick and spirited Soul to Soul.

The tenuous state of the country’s political terrain has the artistic community so engaged that it’s rare when you don’t hear that someone has written a song to reflect their concern about where we are and where we’re going. Lundy’s Blacks and Blues was her statement that really became a question asking when will popular consciousness finally awaken and end this two tier playing field where justice remains restrictive to some but not others. Loud and brash to the point of brittle; the sound of the song was really bigger than the room. No one seemed to mind because so many appeared in full agreement with the sentiment.

Carmen Lundy

Jazz Showcase

806 S. Plymouth Ct.

Chicago, IL 60605

www.jazzshowcase.com

Rail Warriors

September 25, 2017 by K.J. Stone

How alien is rail travel to the average American? In an age of instant everything, how relevant is the passenger train? Headed to San Francisco from Chicago, with stops in Flagstaff, the Grand Canyon, Vegas and Yosemite, I was about to find out.

Union Station may be one of a handful of truly grand passenger rail terminals in the United States. Even restored and beautiful, its Grand Hall lacks its most appealing feature; bustling people. That’s changing. On a bright sunny September afternoon, a low-grade buzz persistently hums.

A kiosk resembling something you’d see in the Museum of Science and Industry stands in the middle of the sprawling room, giving a touch of modernity to the classicism of marble and stone. Not a bad place to wait for a train. Spacious, filled with light, monumental. But there are places with more comfortable seating; like the Metropolitan Room.

To think that there will ever be a day when rail could compete with air travel is to dream. How can a mite challenge a mastodon? But it’s refreshing to see gumption and Amtrak’s effort to woo customers is to be applauded. Take that Metropolitan Room, Amtrak’s answer to airline clubs. Electric. Only open since June of last year, crossing its threshold is like stepping into a Michigan Ave. salon. Bright, polished, refined, it’s simplicity and mood are an ideal counterbalance to the natural scramble of a major rail terminal.

Airline clubs can have the tendency to sprawl; based on the size of the airport. As spacious as United’s B terminal club is, at peak times it still feels very tight. The Metropolitan Room also possesses impressive scale and has been adapted to purpose. Broken up into sections that flow from room to room, one is scaled to children and separated from the other seating areas. Upstairs, another expansive space, the Pennsylvania Room, acts as complimentary adjunct. Large leather couches and arm chairs in neutral grays and beige cover over 2000 square feet of tiered space. Attractive railway themed artwork adorn the walls. The mood is one of tranquil serenity and comfort.

Metropolitan Room adjunct, The Pennsylvania Room

Set up very similarly to their airline rivals, the Metropolitan Room is geared to business and passengers who’ve chosen to elevate their traveling experience by opting for sleeping cars on long journeys. You can also purchase a day pass for $50. Showers are available.

Trips like these, involving trains and 14 days of travel, require daring for those who’ve never done it before. And it requires a relinquishment of the known. Rail travel is nothing like what we call modern travel. Similarities end as soon as you raise your foot and place it on the train car. Toting conventional luggage onto to train is a rookie move if you thought you’d skipped all things rigorous by copping a sleeper. If you’re in a sleeper car, still think bare bone essentials. It’s OK to wear the same clothes you wore getting on the train on day one to all your meals on day two. Nobody cares. But if you can’t make that stretch, it’s OK too. Just keep it spartan. You’ll love not having a piece of standard overhead luggage compete with you for precious inches in a micro-world.

And even on an 80-degree day, the cars can be freezing. You’ll gaze lustfully at the seasoned pros walking around in fleece, impervious to the frigid breezes rushing through the vents in the observation car.

Real adventurers are tough. Otherwise how could they even consider riding coach on an overnight trip. There’s no escape the public eye of fellow travelers. No way to bathe privately. No way to not be targeted by the “Just for You” meal directive. Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables brought to your seat. Just don’t come to the dining car please.

Sleeping cars are a step up but the step is short. Think of a sleeping car as a jail cell with amenities in miniature. There is a shower. But the shower is in the same closet as the toilet and resembles a pneumatic tube in white. The shower spray is hand held and effective. The water is hot. It’s incomprehensible that sleepers accommodate two. Rough estimates say that the space is a little wider than it is long. Bunk beds face a single chair with a window in between. A tiny sink with a mirror man the entrance. My dilemma was asking myself whether I would want to shower in front of a toilet when I am not in basic training in the army. My final answer was no. The tiny basin at the entrance provided enough water to soap, clean and shave the most crucial areas.

Meals were interesting because the wait staff was interesting. A steward was overheard saying that he never introduces himself to new employees because they won’t be there six months from now. If you saw how hard train folks work, you’d understand. The woman who mans the concession in the lounge car opens it herself at 5am and closes it herself at 11pm. The dining car staff matches her by having the the same crew serving all three meals. Prepping and shut down included. Even with that weight on their backs, they were all uniformly courteous, humorous, humane and professional. There was also a touch of madness that peeped between the curtain.

Even with all the brightness of light in the observation car, you felt a constant grueling exercise in constant flow.

With so much velvet agony aboard the train, you wonder why people seem to love traveling by rail so much. There I must agree with my fellow traveler from Philly, air travel is dehumanizing. Most of the people within earshot agreed. The lines, the herd mentality, the imperviousness, TSA.

Even after a 15 hour of flight from Australia, you probably won’t know anything about the 200 other people travelling with you. Trains are different. You have hours to size up your fellow travelers from a distance. You can see how they move, how they look at their fellow travelers, how they carry themselves. You have time to nurture your curiosity.

It wasn’t until we had had a dinner and an overnight sleep that we felt comfortable enough to accept new people. The result, Theresa; a passionate geological enthusiast who can give you a detailed outline of the topography from Colorado and all points west. And Jerry from Philadelphia who’s been on every line Amtrak runs; on his way to California to visit family via train for the 999^th time. The connections were meaningful simply because of the amount of substantive information you gained from casual conversation. You find out how deeply you can get into a stranger’s life.

Flagstaff proved a pleasant surprise. On this trip, it was the entrée to the Grand Canyon; a place you never tire of re-knowing. September is still high tourist season and the park was bubbling with people from around the world. English speakers formed a small minority in the throngs.

Buses work in tandem with trains when traveling with a group of more than fifty people and they’re infinitely more advanced than you can imagine. An on-board toilet was expected, but the high caliber speaker system and retractable mesh window shades were not. Drivers of these behemoths treat them like fine show dogs and keep them gleaming inside and out. One such chariot picked us up late one night in Flagstaff and became our flying carpet to the Grand Canyon, Vegas and California.