Thursday, December 10, 2015.
Smoke, A New Barbecue Joint. Dress Reversal.
I work at home--I'd never make it from downtown to the NPAS rehearsal tonight if I didn't. This opens the possibility for lunch. Mary Ann throws out a few places that interest her. We are shortly agreed on Smoke, a new barbecue specialist on the north side of Covington. In a building that looks like a trailer (it isn't, just shaped that way) Chef Jeff Hansel from Oxlot 9--the cool restaurant in the equally hip Southern Hotel--operates the place with his wife. It's a spare dining room with a colorful interior. A line of outdoor tables fronting a large lawn is interrupted by a gigantic three-unit sign saying only "BBQ." It's hard to miss.
I am there ahead of time, and I order what reads to me like fresh-cut smoky fries with a scattering of bacon and brisket. Mary Ann loves good fries. But what comes out is essentially cheese fries. I know that a lot of people like cheese fries, but I find that the idea ruins good fries, which these appear to be. We both eat far too many of these things, which are served in a portion enough for four or even more.
The barbecue platter I order is more promising. Pulled pork shoulder, smoky but not extravagantly so, served with cole slaw and collard greens, both of which are excellent. On the table are five bottles of barbecue sauce, representating all the major varieties: vinegar-based, mustard-based, sweet and smoky, and extra-spicy. Mary Ann is even more a fan of barbecue than I am, and she has only one problem with all this: it's so good that she eats much more than she planned on doing. She is making good progress with her dieting, so this is a problem.
I fit in a walk and a nap before radio time. We have a very busy show, again with a lot of commercials for me to speak. Then I'm off to the dress rehearsal for NPAS's Christmas Concert this Sunday. I am already a bit hoarse from the radio show. My solo song is one of the last pieces, and I start thinking that I might not have it straight in my mind. I start thinking I might get a case of the yips, and, of course I do, pronouncing some words wrong and forgetting others. It's like recording a radio commercial: if I don't get it perfect the first time, I screw it up multiple times more. But you can't do that on stage. I looked pretty incompetent, but my fellow singers are sympathetic. After the rehearsal, they let me run it a few times. All of these attempts are fine. Conductor Alissa tells me to slow it down a little. One of the basses says I should step up to the mic with the sheet music in hand. "Don't look at it, just have it," he says. "You won't need it." Confidence.
Smoke. Covington: 1005 North Collins Blvd. 985-302-5307.
I am there ahead of time, and I order what reads to me like fresh-cut smoky fries with a scattering of bacon and brisket. Mary Ann loves good fries. But what comes out is essentially cheese fries. I know that a lot of people like cheese fries, but I find that the idea ruins good fries, which these appear to be. We both eat far too many of these things, which are served in a portion enough for four or even more.
The barbecue platter I order is more promising. Pulled pork shoulder, smoky but not extravagantly so, served with cole slaw and collard greens, both of which are excellent. On the table are five bottles of barbecue sauce, representating all the major varieties: vinegar-based, mustard-based, sweet and smoky, and extra-spicy. Mary Ann is even more a fan of barbecue than I am, and she has only one problem with all this: it's so good that she eats much more than she planned on doing. She is making good progress with her dieting, so this is a problem.
I fit in a walk and a nap before radio time. We have a very busy show, again with a lot of commercials for me to speak. Then I'm off to the dress rehearsal for NPAS's Christmas Concert this Sunday. I am already a bit hoarse from the radio show. My solo song is one of the last pieces, and I start thinking that I might not have it straight in my mind. I start thinking I might get a case of the yips, and, of course I do, pronouncing some words wrong and forgetting others. It's like recording a radio commercial: if I don't get it perfect the first time, I screw it up multiple times more. But you can't do that on stage. I looked pretty incompetent, but my fellow singers are sympathetic. After the rehearsal, they let me run it a few times. All of these attempts are fine. Conductor Alissa tells me to slow it down a little. One of the basses says I should step up to the mic with the sheet music in hand. "Don't look at it, just have it," he says. "You won't need it." Confidence.
