EpicRoadtrip: Traveling with a Foodie

As should be evident now, I am no stranger to the roadtrip, as a musician, as a son of a gypsy, and a man that just loves some time behind the wheel with an amazing collection of music in the dash, roadtrips have always been one of my favorite things. Until EpicRoadtrip ’09 food had never really been a focus of the journey, inevitably there would be a neon sign squawking burgers or bacon when your belly growled, and we’d pull over to fill the tank. This time, traveling with Stephanie, food Blogger extraordinaire, food was not only a focal point, it actually guided our schedule.

One of the things that I enjoyed most about traveling with a foodie was every meal presented a photo op. To this point, I had only taken pictures of my food twice, once last summer when I went home to San Diego and had an amazing plate of Mexican food sitting before me, and once last Christmas when my Aunt Dantina showed me how to make her sauce, and then my mom constructed the most amazing lasagna I have ever had. Do not let the Ketzer fool you, I may look all Germanic, four inches away from Arian, but I was raised by a Zaio, and have always embraced my Italian heritage. That lasagna ended up being very significant because it was the last time my Aunt DT made sauce. She had been battling cancer for quite some time, and she left us a couple weeks later. [Wipes tears…takes deep breath…presses on]



I think Steph did a great job of recapping all the food we ate in her blog Ironstef. Rather than duplicate that, I am only going to talk about 3 of the meals. There is no way I could write this without mentioning the Hot Chicken in Tennessee.

Hi! My name is Eric and I am a hot food addict. There are 5 acceptable taste sensations: Sweet, Sour, Savory, Salty, and Bitter. Note, heat was not listed there because heat does not interact with a taste receptor. Heat triggers Substance P, which is a neuropeptide that acts as a neurotransmitter and alters the excitability of the pain responsive neurons. This in turn releases endorphins, hence the addictive properties, much like a runner’s high. Yeah! 5 points for reading a blog written by someone with a Psych major and a serious brain fascination. When we arrived in Nashville our first stop was Prince’s HOT Chicken. Steph ordered up the Medium, and I manned up and went with Extra Hot.

I think my addiction to hot food began while I was in the Navy. They would serve up the most disgustingly bland stuff on the Mess Deck, but there were always trays of jalapenos on the salad bar. So, I’d take one bite of slop and one bite of jalapeno, and the two would balance each other out. When I got my paper and was freed from the Nav, I was introduced to Tapatio by some friends in college, and from there the quest to go even hotter began. No matter what I am eating, Indian, Thai, Vietnamese, or Hot Chicken, I am going to ask for it extra hot. Nothing to this point had prepared me for what I was about to ingest.



If you follow my twitter, you may recall a tweet where I was contemplating whether or not you could die from eating hot food. That was not me being Twitter funny. That was me realizing I was in a battle and was in jeopardy of losing it. The chicken itself was tender and juicy with a nice crust, but the heat was just oppressive. The sweat shower was wide open, nose was a leaky faucet, lips had a sunburn chap going, and there were moments when the heat actually took my breath. This was some seriously HOT Chicken. But, I took it down. Not only did I battle the heat, I battled the fact that I do not like to eat meat off the bone, too carnivorous for me, and this was a straight-up breast quarter, bones and all. I will say, although I won the battle, ultimately, the chicken won the war, as it stayed with me all night. My belly did not stop burning until the next morning when I woke up. If I was carrying any stomach viruses I assure you they are dead now.

The next two meals for me happened in Memphis. Spending the last two Christmases in Hereford, AZ with my mom, niece, 2 dogs, 4 cats, her horse, and a whole lot of nothing to do, I became mildly addicted to the Food Network. That and HGTV are her stations of choice and she rules the remote. One of my favorite shows on the Food Network is Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives (Triple D). When we set out on the EpicRoadtrip, Steph and I decided that hitting some Triple D approved joints was a must. Our first an only opportunity came in Memphis, Uncle Lou’s. Uncle Lou has become famous for created a sauce called, Sweet Spicy Love which amounts to honey, hot sauce, and some secret seasonings. And he is embracing the fame.



I had been sampling complex foods for the last few days, so I decided it was time to go with something simple, and it doesn’t get much simpler than a fried bologna sandwich; however, when you get it at Uncle Lou’s they call it round steak. I think this photo explains why.



It was delicious, had some nice char on it, a tasty dose of Sweet Spicy Love sauce, and the mustard and slaw were perfect toppings.

The last meal I will mention was one of the unplanned stops. We had been looking for a good southern breakfast in Birmingham, and were directed to a Waffle House…a what? This actually initiated a minor Facebook war when Waffle House devotees thought I was dissing their palace, but I was not. What I was trying to express was the best restaurant in any town, or the restaurant that is suggested when an out of towner is looking for a recommendation, should never be a chain. Before heading back to St. Louis Steph popped open the Mac, and found Bob’s Barksdale Restaurant. I am a simple man with simple tastes, and I LOVE me some breakfast food. So, this was my favorite dinning experience of the trip. We bellied up to a cramped counter in a dingy little dive, and were served up some amazing food: bacon omelet with grits, some hash browns, and the southern staple biscuits and gravy, the perfect ending meal to a truly EpicRoadtrip.



I felt like I gypped you last time by not including a poem, so here is “Man Made Finger,” written in an attempt to provide a visual of the many bridges we crossed.

Man made fingers
Stretch towards heaven
Fold in prayer

Laser lights of lives in transit
A waterfall of reds and yellows
Christmas’
Kissing Easter’s Peep
Forming Halloween’s jack-o-lantern smile

Above
Birdless
Midnight sky
Descends
At eye sight’s edge
Clouds feather horizon near

This moment a Trinity of Material, Motion, and Miracle

Material the Son
Born into this world to provide passage
Carrier of souls, receiver of prayers

Motion the Great Ghost
Trails of energy felt more than seen
Omnipresent chill giver, breath stealer

Miracle the Father
Provider of Physical Laws
Creator of motion and material

EpicRoadtrip: Soundtrack

There are a few key elements to making a standard, long, exhausting, drawn out, numbing, roadtrip epic. First, you have to have a good travel buddy, having the famed food blogger, graphic designer, Stephanie Tolle, in tow; I got a big check mark there. Second, you HAVE to have Combos. They are essential roadtrip eats; they provide necessary sustenance, and their ridiculous saltiness helps to avoid multiple potty breaks. Before heading out we picked up some Nacho Cheese Pretzel and Jalapeno Tortilla Combos, another big check there. Several states must be crossed, we were hitting 6 in 4 days. So, that was also a check mark. Finally, you have to create a good soundtrack for the voyage. With a music obsessed driver behind the wheel, you know we are getting a check mark there.

I knew Stephanie was not as familiar with the Damnwells as I was, so we kicked off the drive with Air Stereo. As you will remember, this was the album that got me addicted to them. Since they were the driving force behind the journey, it seemed a fitting starting point. The sun had not yet supplied its warming rays, but the top was down, and we were on our way. As “Accidental Man” kicked in I could tell Stephanie was excited. “Golden Days” and “Louisville” were a couple other standouts from that disc, songs that got elicited comments from Steph.

By now we were deep into Illinois about to cross into Kentucky, and it was time to change up discs. I went with a roatrip standard, Transatlanticism by Death Cab for Cutie. We are both huge DCFC fans, and the album is amazing from start to finish. It is the kind of CD you can leave in the dash all weekend, and never tire of it, which is a good thing because somewhere in the thick Kentucky humidity my co-pilot decided to put me on auto-pilot and nap out. The way she was positioned prevented clean access to the glove compartment, so as it kicked back in with “This is the New Year” my manic grew. Hunkered down like Cassidy on a Benzedrine high, it was me, the road, great music, and my thoughts. Transatlanticism provides so many great lyrics to contemplate, to force hidden feelings:

From Tiny Vessels:

This is the moment that you know
That you told her that you loved her but you don't.
You touch her skin and then you think
That she is beautiful but she don't mean a thing to me.
Yeah, she is beautiful but she don't mean a thing to me.

Having been in that moment, it instantly recalls an oppressive feeling of emptiness, like you want to love that person, but for some reason you cannot. That confusion is dark and hollow, offering no escape or self-revelation, only intrapersonal theories you create to rationalize and avoid the emergence of debilitating cognitive dissonance.

The album also evokes more tender emotions. There is an 8 measure break in “Transatlanicism” where Ben relentlessly repeats, “I need you so much closer.” And, I have been there too, physically and emotionally, that sense that you just cannot get close enough, even though you are on top of them, inside of them.

As we crossed into Tennessee, sleeping beauty woke up, and I grabbed Armaghetto by Conglomerate, an album most of you have never heard but is hugely responsible for the kind of artist I have become. Conglomerate was a San Diego band that was signed to Cargo. While I was still living there, I went to every show I could. The band was fronted by singer/songwriter Steve Harris. His raw emotion, amazingly powerful vocals, and intense lyrics are the only conscious influence I have ever had. If you have seen me perform and heard me go big with a vocal line like on “Been Down,” you can thank Steve for that. This was probably the most manic stage of the drive, 4 or 5 hours into it and restless, but with one of my all time favorite albums in the dash, I was in rare form. Steph’s one comment, “Whoa, these guys are intense.” I never clarified if she liked them or not.

Setting the arrival mood for the first destination in an Epic Roadtrip is pivotal. As we approached Nashville, with giddy child like eyes and a huge southern grin, I reached for the dash and slid in some Dierks Bentley. I believe there were several moments of disbelief from Ms. Steph as I sung every song at the top of my lungs. She had this look about her that said “Why am I being subjected to this modern country crap, and how the hell does Eric know all these songs.” As a lover of music, I do not discriminate against genre (That is not totally true, anything hairband related leaves me feeling disgusting and abused, like my ears have just been raped by over processed guitar tones, fluffy candy coated lyrics, and vocals that constantly have me questioning, is this a boy or a girl) or popularity or mainstreamness, and as far as Modern Country goes, Dierks is the best.

The treks from Nashville to Birmingham and Birmingham to Memphis were a little unstable. We took some detours, and were relying on Florence Beatrice Garmin (FloB) to guide us, so the soundtrack took a back seat to the sweetly annoying sound of FloB telling me to turn left in 200 hundred feet…turn left now…you missed the turn you idiot…what are you going to do now…now I am lost…etc.



I was also very focused on the clouds because we tried to have the top down as much as possible, but you never know when a storm is going to spring up in the Southeast. Thankfully we avoided several, one by like 200 ft. It was a 4 lane cross to get to an exit, but I made it happen. There was also a section in Mississippi where the skies unleashed a rain that had me driving by instinct and prayer because there were no visuals left.

Heading up 55 from Memphis to St. Louis was filled with reflection, so the soundtrack became background to head words. As we hit 270, we put in One Last Century, which is the Damnwells newest CD, the CD that they were touring to support. It seemed to me the only natural way to conclude the EpicRoadtrip. My great friend and musical soulmate, Rob Woerther, compared this CD to Fort Recovery by Centro-Matic, which is high praise. They sound nothing similar, but they are both pinnacles of achievement, like greatest hits albums without pulling from several older CDs. The opening tune on One Last Century is the beautiful ballad called “Sountrack” that provides a powerful thought provoking chorus:

She wants you
She needs you
A soundtrack to bleed to
But can you shut up long enough to fall in love

She wants you
She needs you
A hurricane to leave through
But can you shut up long enough to fall in love

Soundtrack was also the most memorable moment from each show we saw. I am including a LINK to the video Stephanie shot in Bham.

So as it began it ended. The Damnwells opened up the road and let us know we had returned safely home.

EpicRoadtrip '09: Preface

Those that follow my Twitter or Facebook page know that I went on an EpicRoadtrip this July. Of course the roadtrip deserves some coverage on my blog, but due to its sheer Epicness it was bound to be an enormous post, so I have decided to divide it into sections. This is the first.

My relationship with the Damnwells began in late 2006. I had been chasing the rabbit through BMG hopping from one band to another following their influences until I found something that grabbed me. I believe the exact hop was Son Volt to Old 97’s to the Damnwells, but it has been several years, so I am not confident of that. The album was Air Stereo, and I was clicking buy as soon as I heard the a cappella opening of “I’ve Got You.”



Oddly I do not consider myself to be a musician, although I can play the guitar. Some 13 years after I first picked it up I still rarely know what I am playing. I call myself a singer/songwriter/poet, so what I want in a band are good lyrics and great vocals because that is what I relate to, what I feel I bring to my projects. Alex Drezen brings bushels of both (3 points for the alliteration) to the Damnwells.

In his MySpace blog Alex said,

The Damnwells has always been about my songs with extremely talented musicians and producers collaborating. The personnel have changed, but the essence—one of this week’s vocabulary words for the 7th graders I teach—remains the same.

Maybe that was another subconscious link for me as EKe, Whiskey Daydream, and the Frontline have all been about my songs with extremely talented musicians and producers collaborating.

My obsession intensified when I was going up to play a show in Iowa City in 2008. Ya know how you get a CD, spin it into silence, and then shelve it for a while? Well that happened with Air Stereo, I was buying lots of new music at the time, and it was hard to give it all equal consideration while rotating in familiar friends; but, as I was gearing up for the roadtrip, I dusted it off, and it ended up providing the soundtrack to some of the best moments of that trip. It was my first solo roatrip without a band or buddies in tow, and in the open planes of Illinois and Iowa, lyrics like this had a profound affect on me:

Contract killers cannot find me
I’m at home when I’m with you
No matter where I am
(from Shiny Bruises)

Air Stereo is a great disc from start to finish, but the song that made the biggest impact on me was “God Bless America” powerful and poignant with thoughtful lyrics that expose the good and the bad:

Oh how I loved you, it’s true.
Your skylines and coalmines
And your strippers, too
Do you ever miss me?
‘Cause baby I miss you.

The mountains and prairies
To the prisons and malls
I’ve got a bible and a Barbie doll
God bless America and her Kodachrome flag
From purple mountains majesty
To the streets of Bagdad

Whatever the etymology of the Damnwells entering my language is, as soon as Air Stereo entered my dash it became a permanent part of my lexicon. It is the phrase that first jumps off my tongue when people ask what band they should check out or what I am listening to these days. Damien Rice gets love from college radio, Death Cab for Cutie got their shot on the O.C. and became MTV Darlings, Glen Hansard wowed the world in Once. The Damnwells are best band I can think of that you are probably not listening to and you should be because I cannot think of another band that would cause me to tackle a 4 day 6 state roadtrip.

Stay tuned for future posts: EpicRoadtrip: The Soundtrack; EpicRoadtrip: Traveling with a Foodie; and, EpicRoadtrip: All Things Considered. It may take me a couple weeks to get to them all, but be confident that they are coming.

In keeping with my assumptions, I am offering a completely unrelated poem, but I read it tonight at the Open Mic I host, so it is fresh on my mind…Enjoy!

Diversity of Human Form

I watch amazed at the diversity of human form
Slopebacks with asses tucked under like scolded dog
Archbacks with breasts making entrance before face or hair
One tired
One perceived innocence

And broken down bodies fighting stairs
eyes looking forward, upward, with so much behind them
But youth, youth looks downward, backward
shyly tucking hair behind ears when caught

And me, oppressing peglegged chair
thankful its wooden seat had died years before it held me
belly entering an embrace before arms or lips hello kiss

Funny how we hide/accentuate our flaws/features

Me
tent like shirt draped over gut
hoping it remains unnoticed

Archback
Oxford pulled taunt across lower back
making more noticeable her gifts

Slopeback
tucked in shirt
trying to provide differentiation between vertebrae and coccyx

Brokendown bodies
indifferent
having outlived the game
finally accepting reality

Eric Has a Big Boy Blog...

I just realized that the title of this post, my first post, depending on how well you know me or if you know me at all, can produce multiple interpretations. If you only know me through the interwebs then maybe it means nothing to you, other than conjuring up some fond memory of a 30 foot statue of what seemed to be a 5 year old carrying a plate of rather large burgers, maybe every post from here on out will be comprised of my experiences with the Bob's Big Boy restaurant chain, and why not really. If you know KNOW me, you know I am a big guy, minus a 4 year period in the Navy and my Senior year of high-school, have always been a big guy, will probably always be a big guy, despite an insane workout schedule and an active lifestyle. Maybe this blog has been created to discuss what it is like to live as a big man in a heroin sheik society, how daily we all pray to have been born during the Ruben's period when big truly was beautiful. Maybe it is none of that and all of it.

I have been blogging for years, just through MySpace. Being a singer/songwriter MySpace is an essential part of my Social Networking life. It provides me with an opportunity to post songs and share them with anyone willing to listen, so I have used its little antiquated blog page to post my thoughts on recordings, songs, tours, musicians...whatever. Well, having crested 35 this year, I decided the great record deal and tour bus may not be in my future. It was a sad day, but I have always been one to find new cheese. This year marked a swing in focus from Music to Career. I will NEVER stop playing and performing, just reigned in the dreams a bit, so I can be content.

With new direction comes reflection, and reflections deserves a better platform, hence this blog. I actually decided to do this a few months ago, but I wanted to get a logo and make it all slick. The logo is still in production, and the words could not wait any longer. My friend Stephanie Tolle, the famed ironstef, besides being a foodie, a fantastically inspiring blogger, bowler and pretty decent golfer, is also a Graphics Designer, so she is helping me out with that, stay tuned for a logo that will melt your face...yes I said it, it is high-school cliche, and I don't care!

I wanted this first post to be an introduction of sorts, maybe lay out some acceptable assumptions about this blog. So here they are:

1. Because if the nature of my job, I am choosing to reign myself in, don't go corporate bashing, this is a choice I am making because I believe it is the right thing to do. Although I enjoy a Christmas Story cusstantrum as much anyone, probably more, my dad taught me years ago a good writer can write the moment more powerfully without the language.
2. I will almost always be doing laundry when I post, don't know why I wanted to share that, but I did. I actually own more guitars than pairs of pants, so I do lots of laundry.
3. I will include some type of poetry in every post, could be a haiku, short form, epic...there will be poetry.
4. Music and how it touches/moves me will be a recurring theme, lots of posts about great concerts, new albums I am in love with, and what I am doing with my own music, new songs, shows, recordings....
5. I am an out of the closet Teen TV addict: Friday Night Lights, Gossip Girls, One Tree Hill, as well as SYTYCD and AI, will definitely appear in posts.

I think those are five simple assumptions which should help you determine whether or not you want to read this thing.

That being said, laundry needs to be flipped, but first I wanted to share a quick poem. I am a very muse driven writer. I can force my pen but prefer not to. I prefer to allow an event, emotion, moment to guide the ink, so I write a lot when I travel, newness seems to impel me to write. He is a quick one or you...enjoy!

Nawlins

New Orleans drips energy
streets filled with winos and women
masses march to rhythm of “City Beneath the Sea”
smell of coffee fills squares
where people dance in conversations
over jazz movements
Creole flavors burn tongues
open nasal passages
allow pungent scents
that excite and sooth
New Orleans sleeps beneath
sounds of sweepers and Hymns