Mama’s
(Orlando, FL)
Of all the bountiful feasts laid before me in my many travels around this blue marble - there are 3 chefs who surpass all others in my book: Yoshiko Heafy (my Okasan), the duo of Tammy and Ross Davis (my in-laws who can top any Southern cook as far as I’m concerned), and my partner-in-culinary-crime, my wife Ashley Heafy.
As it is with the case with most food-adventurers, their family members (who can cook) usually have the skills to top even the best restaurants said adventurer has eaten at. I’ve mentioned previously how Japanese food is something I require on a cellular-level - so - every time I am home, I beg my mom to make some of her Japanese-delicacies.
Since I am in a constant state-of-motion, my eating experiences “at home” are always in-between tours. I believe this trip to my mom’s was in between Mayhem and the Dream Theater support tour; I asked my okasan (mom in Japanese) to make “anything Japanese.” Now - side note - there is a massive misconception in America that Japanese cuisine is limited to: Sushi and that flaming-onion-flinging, stomach-wrecking, pseudo-Japanese chain that people so lovingly mispronounce as “Coh Beez.” When attempting to relay the vastness of the Japanese-culinary-spectrum… I usually compare it to having as many different styles of food as Italian dishes… something like that.
My family get-togethers at my parents’ house (the house I spent from 11 years old and up till the time I moved out) usually consist of: mom (“Mama”), dad (“Bubba”), my sister Michelle and her boyfriend Hunter, Ashley and myself. I find that food is the best way if not the only proper way for a family to really be together, to share the same experience as everyone else at the table with them, and catch up and be happy; so these always work out nicely.
I was blown away when I saw that my mom had made hand-made steamed pork-dumplings (not unlike the ones you see at shiny-carted Dim Sum restaurants) - which, were amazing (I also imagine quite difficult and time consuming to make). Tonight’s main feature would be Yakiniku - a Japanese style in it’s own; just as Sushi is one - Yakiniku is another.
Yakiniku translates to “grilled meat,” and that’s exactly what it is. Yakiniku restaurants in Japan usually have a table with an individual grill for each table - Korean BBQ is very similar to Yakiniku. There are many a drunken-night I can recall from Japan, loudly singing Bon Jovi, drinking cold Japanese Suntory Premium Malts and grilling chicken hearts and beef-livers at the meat-smoked-out Yakiniku places with friends… this is the family-friendly version of Yakinuku here: filet, chicken breast, potatoes, carrots, zucchini, onion, mushrooms, sausage. All amazing.
The sauce that Yakinuku is usually gobbled down with ranges from restaurant to restaurant in Japan - my mom makes her own version of the sweet/tangy/salty-meat-bath. You can quickly dip the meat, or let it hang out for a bit in it - marinating it post-grill. Ebi-chili is chili shrimp that was also a feature - delicious. Miso soup by my mother is something that makes you realize that restaurants can’t touch home-made.
There was seared tuna and rice, then an assortment of deserts as always. In addition to being able to pull off Japanese dishes like Okonamiyaki to Yakinuku and Soba and Yakisoba… my mom can pull off baking like a true pastry-chef. I’ve eaten an entire half of a cake once by my mom and ended up comatose for half a day…
So all in all, like always - it was an absolute pleasure to be able to share this feast together. I say it all the time, and I will again - my favorite things in life, in order: family and friends, food, music; and when it’s some of my favorite people on earth, coupled with some of the best food on the planet - I am a happy Kiichi-kun.
Pennsylvania and Food and Paolo’s Aunts and Uncles
(New Richmond, Pa; Lock Haven, Pa)
Part I. (Part II is the entry directly below)
I write to you today from gate 14 at the Helsinki Airport. The bus, band and crew are floating somewhere between Turku and Stockholm on a party-ferry - why am I here? Let’s try to recap quickly….
We finish the Dream Theater tour, we break for 5 days at home, we fly to Milan to begin 6 headlining shows before adjoining to the support Euro-tour/ us-headline UK tour with In Flames. We show up in Milan to a bus that isn’t the one we ordered (before the tour, our tour manager, Brian Griffin - helped us pick a pretty good bus via pictures and descriptions online from the bus company, MZ). But yeah - this wasn’t the right one. This bus was a crummier one that we’d been on 3 years prior that - it had leaky air-vents then.
So the bus wasn’t right… easy fix? Nah - flash forward two weeks - still in it. Turns out the driver has never really driven in Europe before, he’s a rough driver, a bad parker, sorta not-all-there, and then (icing on the christmas pudding) he knocks off the tailpipe of the exhaust while I was mini-vacationing in Warsaw with some friends and doesn’t get it fixed.
I show up to a gas chamber. This German-engineered machine’s tiny coffin-bunks are now all coated in a nice velvety-diesel-fume. I go to the driver and ask “Uh… what is this smell? Is this gonna kill us? When are you fixing it?” His reply: “Oh. Nein Nein. Dees ist no problem. You all vill be fine.” Hmm.
I spend a night in the chambers of Klausschwitz (as Paolo so appropriately named it) and wake up with a chest-like-iron-lung-asthma, eyes covered in a film… I can’t breathe, speak… I run outside into the freezing Stockholm streets in basketball shorts coughing like a geriatric with emphysema who won’t kick the cigs.
Now… this bus had already tested all of our limits with things like: a trailer that was too small to fit all our gear in (forcing us to half divide luggage between trailer and luggage bays), bunks that all varied in size, a bunk (our TM’s) that leaks super freezing air when everyone else’s bunks are hot, and the newest addition of everyone suffering from black lung.
My options in my head were these: 1. Throw the coffee machine through the front windshield (a plausible, yet maybe not the most rational of ideas) or 2. Book some plane tickets and get off the WMD-on-wheels. I said F the roaming charges and quickly booked a flight the hell out of there.
I booked it so I could stay out of the thing with enough buffer days that that machine ought-to-be-fixed when I return. He just fixed it yesterday. I heard it ended up getting so bad that no one could even go anywhere near the back of the bus on the inside of the bus.
Sorry boys… ya’ll shoulda flown.
Flash back to Mayhem.
We finished up the show nearest to New Richmond, Pa (I do not recall which city that was) and met up with two of Paolo’s uncles: Jan and Bill to go grab some grub. We piled into the car and headed to the Front Street Cafe’.
This was a total locals joint: local folk band playing (which was so good I audio recorded them), a clientele that all seemed to match each other (Paolo and I must have looked like Martians), all locally made sweets and beers on tap - this was going to be perfect. Started off with a sort-of-local beer, the Rivertown Brewing Company Hop Bomber from Cincinnati, Oh (which is close, right?) and the Gumbo.
I am not picky with beers when you’re talking local - and bring on the hops if it’s hop-time. Fantastic stuff. If I remember correctly - they were out of the Gumbo (maybe that’s why I couldn’t dig up a pic). My main was the Pasta Lafayette: andouille sausage and shrimp, roasted red peppers and garlic with a touch of Thai chili in a spicy cream sauce; served over penne pasta. Solid stuff.
Once again, proof that you can find local, good options when you search for it.
The next day, we had a day off near Paolo’s aunt and uncle, Gemma and Tony, who live close to Paolo’s other uncle and aunt, Gio and Linett. We’ve had many-an-amazing-day-off in the past with Paolo’s aunts and uncles in the Lock Haven, Pa area. Any time we have a day off near by - it always means food, booze, and fun stuff with the extended bloodline of the Paolo-family.
Gemma picked us up and brought us to her place for some home-made snacks, access to a washer/dryer (much needed amidst a nasty-hot summer-tour), and a hang with her amazing pets. Since I’m forced to be away from Miyuki so much, anytime I see a Frenchie (like Gemma’s amazing Ogee) - it’s hang-time. We ate, showered, cleaned our clothes, played with the animals, then prepped for a hang-session with Gio and Linett.
Paolo spent a lot of his life in the Lock Haven area, so it’s always amazing to see the spots that a best friend/band member grew up in. Gio is one of the coolest uncles-I’ve-never-had. This man: is hilarious; hunts like Ted Nugent; is (essentially) the Mayor of Lock Have; is a badass; cuts hair like an artist; is someone who I consider a family member to me. Oh yeah… forgot to mention: intensely good cook.
We had lots of plans for the day, but first was to hit the Texas Restaurant, a local institution since 1918. Paolo, Gio, all the cousins, relatives - have all hit this place quite a few times in their day; and it was my introduction to the Texas.
I started with fries covered with gravy and cheese (I know, right?) and The Growler: A chili-cheese hotdog with onions and other bits. This is some fantastically greasy, soul-filling, indulgent-goodness. I scarfed it all down with ease. I love these greasy-spoon old diners that have been sitting in their same spots for years. Everyone recounted fantastic adventures of being hammered and coming to the Texas for some perfect drunk-food.
The next spot to hit was the Susquehanna River, a River that we’ve all spent time in together previously and one that Paolo and his relatives all have spent years visiting. We picked up some booze from a local spot and headed to Gio’s boat. We floated around for several hours, drank beers and swam till we started working up an appetite again.
(continued below…)
(Source: enthusiasmisnothing)
Broken Clouds
(Portland)
Touring really can be as great or as crummy as you allow it to be. For me, to make touring something truly special and amazing - it’s all about food and drink. I am one who completely cuts himself off from the standard “it’s the same old shit here as it is everywhere else” vibe that you see in so many people when traveling. Some of the greatest experiences in food, art, and drink I’ve experienced when just allowing myself to be swept away by what a city can offer. Get lost; allow yourself to be immersed wherever you may be… Hell, the best Mexican food I’ve had in the USA was in Ozona, TX (a place that’s population hits merely a few thousand); Paolo and I stumbled across a Guggenheim Museum in Basque country in Bilbao - and randomly found a restaurant that gives a bottle of wine to you for ordering lunch: Basquelunch at that! So my point is - you can research great things to have no matter where you are: try Yelp, Google, ask a friend, as a local - you can find something great almost anywhere.
So we pull up on a day off in Portland on the Mayhem tour - we already know what’s in store here (last time we had a day in Portland, a show day, Paolo’s good friend from school - Megan - took us around to some great spots, then we randomly hit a Peruvian place that Ashley found online at home for us).
After check in, Ashley, Paolo and myself piled into Megan’s car and headed to Taqueria Los Gorditos - a slamming taco truck we had the time previous.
For me: Lengua (that’s tongue) taco, Cabeza (head) taco, and a Chorizo taco. For Ashley, the Carne Asada Burrito. Los Gorditos does it right - traditional - simply 2 tortillas, cilantro, onion, lime. That’s it. That’s all that is really needed in a traditional taco - no yellow American cheese, lettuce, or tomato - no gringo toppings for me, amigo. A lot shy away from tongue and head meat… but let me tell you - if it’s a textural thing that’s scaring you off - those meats are even more tender than the standard cut. Great, simple, tacos - traditional.
We hit Stumptown (a local coffee brewer) for some coffees - great stuff (it was pretty hot that day, so I went iced).
We wandered about a little bit by car and foot, checked out Meg’s new pad (in a neighborhood that looked just like Ash and I’s 1920’s neighborhood back home) and headed to Clyde Common for some drinks.
Clyde has that same vibe that I am so drawn to in an American joint. Modern, simple, clean - hints of rustic-ness found in chalkboards and exposed brick/wood, but also stainless modernity. My elixir of choice was the East Of Eden: Broker’s dry gin, lemon, egg whites, Gewurtztraminer reduction, and elderflower liqueur. I’m starting to recognize that gin and elderflower really go well fantastically. This cocktail was something special. The egg whites created a layer that reminded me of lemon meringue, the lemon and gin had a good bite - paired with the sweetness of the St. Germain. Good stuff.
Dinner was the same spot we hit up last time in Portland (that was followed by a rather disastrous show… but we can save that for the “Where the Hell are they now?” or “Behind the Blow” special on VH1 in the future) and we would be met by Justin Arcangel, our mgmt.
Andina is a modern Peruvian restaurant that has traditional dishes and contemporary dishes alike. It was just as busy as the first time I went there - with an open kitchen adjacent to the entrance. We started up with the Ben Marco ‘09 Malbec that sounded like a perfect mix with Peruvian.
I prefer to share food with the people I eat with - so some of us decided to go the sharing-route. We started up with the De Pescado “5 Elementos,” a traditional Ceviche of fresh fish - simple flavors, great citrus on the fish. We had the Ensalada Verde Peruana - fresh greens topped with hearts of palm, cotija cheese and seasonal vegetables; then to the mains: Lomo Saltado (split in half in the photo) which was Cascade natural beef tenders, wok-fried with onions, tomatoes, oyster sauce, garlic and aji, with Yukon gold papas fritas and garlic rice; the Qunoto De Hongos De Las Montana (Chisaya mama (quinoa), golden beet and local mushroom quinoa “risotto” laced with truffle oil with grilled market fresh vegetables) - one of the best quinoa dishes I’ve had, the sharp-flavored cheese with the quinoa went really well.
For desert: the Flan special and the Canutos De Quinoa Y Maracuya: crisp-quinoa studded cannoli’s stuffed with passionfruit mousse, served with mango-lemongrass sorbet and mango sauce. The Canutos were insanely good - I’m really into sorbets that mix all sorts of different flavors, and the use of quinoa as the cannoli was certainly a crunchy-alternative to the normal cannoli.
All in a all, real decent place.
Post dinner cocktails. We hit up Teardrop, a slightly posher-looking place than the previous cocktail bar. I asked the stylish-waiter for “the best drink at the bar.” He assured me that their Pina Colada would be the best Pina I’ve ever had - and normally not a super-sweet-cocktail-drinker, I decided I’d indulge. Their Pina certainly was something special- Don Q silver rum, pineapple juice, pineapple gomme (checking notes here… it could have been a drunk note there/iphone autoword), house cream of coconut, lime, nutmeg. It was the best Pina… but intensely sweet. If you dig Pina’s, you’d love it. It was great, but not exactly my drink style I think (still learning my preferences here…)
Next we stopped by the Rogue Distillery (beer that is brewed in Portland) for a finale. I had the Brutal IPA - finished it up, and was maxed out on food and booze for the day.
Portland. Well done.
(all photos by jonpauldouglass)
Lifestyles Of The Beat And Sleepless (Murphy’s Law, The Domino And
Chaos Effects, And Other Treats)
(multi-locational)
(photo by JPWD)
I write to you from an aerial suppository lodged somewhere in between Newark and Kansas City. The band and crew alike have just returned from a multi-country stop unlike one I’ve ever experienced before, and now our grizzly frames are stuffed like sardines into a tiny regional jet-thing. We’ve just gotten word (via email) that our bus is broken down about 400 miles away from where we’re flying to be picked up from - and we have a few thousand pounds of gear with us to boot. Let us backtrack…
So this won’t be a food blog (as I’ve hinted at before, the “blog” is about to start becoming a multi-format platform of ramblings) but a memoir of sorts of some intense times.
We had just finished our “turn” of main stage slots at Mayhem (In Flames, Machine Head, and Trivium were all to do 1/3’s of the different 3 stages on the tour) when a few days before, In Flames had to leave due to a family emergency. So with that recent occurrence, MH and ourselves divvied up the IF dates - and this was our final side stage show before being all main stage shows. Raleigh, NC was our home for the day - and it had been a little bit since we’d played the side stages. Today was a hot day - one of the hottest I could remember on the tour. Our discount bus’s A.C. was half working, outside was varying from hot and dry to hot and humid, the well-done cooked porto-potty back yard, and gravel front yard were our challenging landscapes of the day.
It was quite a trek back and forth to main stage (to eat and use bathrooms and do press and all that) and this tour has been a hot one the whole time. The show ended up being fantastic - and afterwards, we had to pack our stuff to ship off to a hotel in order to fly to Germany the next early morning. We pulled up to a half-scary joint where we unloaded and headed to our rooms.
I had this peculiar hot tub thing in my concrete-walled cell.
Everyone got about 3-6 hours of sleep (the magic number of foreshadowing of the days to come) and we headed to the airport. The whole deal with this major show thing was that we were to miss 3 Mayhem shows in order to play Wacken Open Air in Wacken, Germany (the biggest metal festival in the world - we were to play direct support to Judas Priest) and a support slot to Iron Maiden at the O2 Arena.
We did our first flight, then the long one (I believe I got about 3-6 hours or so of sleep; the other dudes all couldn’t sleep) - and it’s funny - most people always say “ah man, it must be great flying in first class!” Ha. We’re always coach, back of the bus, cheapest tickets and airlines possible. My first seat that I was assigned was a non-reclining seat with a power box in front of my feet - so there was no room. I pleaded with the flight attendant and was able to get an exit row aisle for a price (airlines charge for everything nowadays… it’s a little scary they charge for exit rows - isn’t that where “able bodied” people are supposed to assist in case of emergency? I’m “able”) and then I zonked out for a bit.
Arriving in Hamburg at 7:30am, we stayed at a real decent hotel across the airport - got free breakfast and everyone napped a bit. We headed down after the short doze, and met for lobby call where they sent too few vans; once sorted - we were on our way.
Wacken is probably the nicest set up festival we have ever played. The attendance of the weekend had been ranging between 80,000 - 110,000 per day, the catering was great, the dressing rooms were well equipped and stocked, and the back stage had the nicest damn bathroom trailer I have ever seen (it had TV’s playing previous years’ performances, nice lighting, AC’d, cleaned every 15 minutes, etc). I’ve seen a lot of murder-scene-esque bathrooms in my life time - and this one was a welcoming treat.
The show was by far one of the greatest of our lives - 80,000 plus people all rocking their asses off. It went off without a hitch - it was perfect (I think we will be releasing the footage as a live DVD some day). Next was a signing…
So, I have done a lot of signings in my day - and I know what works: no direct photos with the band (if you do photos, plus signings, plus chatting with each person… what inevitably ends up happening is that 100’s of people get completely skipped due to each person’s time taking so long), and one or just a few items to sign per person. Now - I know this seems intense… but it’s far far far worse to skip 100’s of people who have been waiting for an hour to meet you… so I briefed the signing people - and did they listen? No.
It was chaos. No line, people setting up cameras while trying to greet others (and this is not the fault of the concert goer), and in the end - lots of people left out. I told this jerk running the thing “We do not want to miss anyone waiting for us - so you need to get the line in order, and tell people no pictures unfortunately due to the length of the line.” The prick didn’t give a shit - they were useless and unhelpful and I am very sorry to the people who we missed out signing for, the kids who got pushed around by bully-ass security (once they finally got off their ass to assist in helping the line move - but too little too late, my friends). I was angry. I keep my cool most of the time - but the signing Genius pulled me by my shoulder and said we needed to wrap up - I gave him a piece of my mind.
Still fuming from the signing’s unfortunate ending - we collected our things, did some other bits, ate, and prepped to leave.
Easy right? No.
Our next dickhead of the night was some cocky little-prick who ran the shuttles back to the hotel. The hotel was an hour plus away, and the festival was in the middle of nowhere - so naturally - we needed a ride. Ol’ Nice Guy told us that we missed our shuttle and there was nothing we could do (apparently we had one booked, but we missed it due to the signing running late) - our manager and I exchanged some heated words with the gentleman, and basically he told us to go F ourselves. Thankfully, our booking agent called that dudes’ boss and it got sorted after a while.
Arriving back in the room far later than initially intended, we got 3-6 and woke up for a 4:30 or something a.m. lobby call to fly to London.
1.5 hour flight to London after some whacky customs and - did I forget to mention that we are all lugging 1000’s of pounds of flyable gear (getting charged at each airline) to pull these shows off - we got picked up in our van to go to the hotel.
We drove to the Holiday Inn at Heathrow to check in; we lugged it all in - wrong Holiday Inn - there’s another one. Loaded back in to the van and went to the “other” Holiday Inn. After a few minutes of trying to check us in, our tour manager Brian Griffin (real name) found out there is a third Holiday Inn; by this point we were all just laughing at fate’s cruelty - piled in and went to the third Holiday Inn at Heathrow airport.
The rooms weren’t ready, so everyone laid across chairs, the floor, anything they could to grab some z’s. We slept for a couple minutes, got into our rooms, slept a couple minutes, and piled back into the vans to go to the O2. The ride to the O2 took 2 hours in London traffic - we arrived with compressed coccyx and all, deliriously fading in and out of consciousness - dropped our bags and I had to head to a guitar clinic.
The clinic was amazing. I loved it. I love to teach. I love teaching guitar, and some day I would like to get my yoga teacher’s certification. The people who attended were super nice, and I hope they all had a good time - I had a great time.
Jon Paul was on this trip to photo and document our adventures, and both he and I decided to hit one of the very few chain restaurants that I’ll eat at. We hit up Nando’s (a Portuguese style chicken “fast” food place in the U.K. and Australia and a few other places around the world) with some dear friends, for grilled chicken and fries - we felt we deserved it.
Next was soundcheck, warm up, then one of the best damn shows we’ve ever done supporting a band. Roughly 10,000 people when we started - it grew to about 15,000 or so during mid-set; and everyone we talked to said it was the best reaction they’d ever seen for a band opening up for Iron Maiden. It was intense - we came out all guns blazing… my voice during the whole day was completely shot (from singing, lack of sleep, flying, lack of sleep, playing, lack of sleep, flying, lack of sleep) and should have sucked - thankfully, the old-vocal-cords were running on all cylinders, and it was some of the best singing I feel I’ve pulled off in a while.
We came off stage, celebrated (before and after - rare occasion) with some shots and beers, grabbed delicious catering (Eat To The Beat is an amazing touring catering company) and watched Maiden from the standing area on the floor. Iron Maiden is without a doubt, one of the greatest live bands on the earth - they were unbelievable.
We hung with label, agents, band, crew, friends and had a good time. We hit up this after party thing (initially, I was completely unsure if I wanted to leave immediately after the set, or stay around due to being so groggy… the show was so damn good though - I had to… plus my wife said “Hun, sleep when you’re dead - you’re going to hang out with Iron Maiden!”) Hung out a bit, then I was crashing…
A good friend of ours, Morgan (RRInternational) got me and JP into a cab and we took the 2 hour cab back to the hotel. 3-6 hours or so of sleep… woke up so tired that I had to actually pull my eye-lids open; got ready, went to lobby call - got in the vans and headed to the airport.
Long check in, nutty airport, nutty security - got to the gate - got in the plane.
Aisle. Check.
Bags. Check.
Infant next to me? Shit…
I saw JP was initially supposed to be next to me, but was upgraded to Business First - I went up to see what happened, and ya know what the nice best pal-o-mine does? Insists I take his seat. I refused a few times… then we swapped. Thank you Jon Paul. I slept the 3-6, woke up, ate decent plane food (which I never do unless I’m in this class - which is never as well), and enjoyed the trip.
Arriving in Newark, we cleared customs, had to re-check all the gear and stuff- get new tickets, head to the gate - did all that; then we showed up to the gate.
Granted this was only about 30-45 minutes ago - you can see why the tone of some of this chapter was a little heated… Brian Griffin tells us our bus is broken down.
Back track a touch.
We were initially flying into Kansas City to play an off-date with In Flames. In Flames had to leave the tour, so that cancels the show - Trivium Ent books non-refundable tickets, so we had to use those tickets, get picked up, drive to Oklahoma City for the next mayhem show (which is Tuesday; it’s Sunday today).
This bus company… every time something has gone wrong - the owner has actually told our tour manager things like: “light it on fire - I don’t care, I’m losing my ass on this company anyway” or “roll it off a cliff for all I care.”
So Brian gets an email that says “Bus is broken down, it won’t be picking you up, probably can’t make it to Oklahoma.” That’s it. Our driver evaded Brian’s calls; I eventually get him on my cell - we find out that the bus broke down (since it’s a cheap, unfit-to-drive bus that we’re getting at a “steal”) and it’s immobile. Then our gate starts to board.
So that’s where we are now, my friends… what is the next chapter of our fateful story? Will our heroes make it to the next show in time? Will tempers flare so bad that we actually do try to light the bus on fire? Or ourselves? Only time will tell…
(Source: enthusiasmisnothing)
