One of my favourite foods in the whole world are chicken wings. While not typically a gourmet selection, I frequently order wings for meals or snacks, and am repeatedly disappointed with the results. Still, time and again I will order wings - when they are good, there is nothing like the combination of their fatty goodness and beer.
I have spent a lot of time living near Buffalo, NY - home of the buffalo style chicken wing. These are typically served coated in a vinegar based hot sauce mixed with butter and served with a blue cheese dressing for dipping. When coupled with a good quality, meaty chicken wing and a tasty beer or three, this is my all time favourite food.
While a rant on the availability of good wings in Alberta, and the tendency of so many establishments to ignore the key component (the wings themselves) of this dish will follow at some point, I thought I would share a chicken winging that I was pleasantly surprised with. Every awesome chicken wing I have ever eaten has been deep fried at some point - until tonight.
I went to Le Grand Orange in Phoenix for the third time this week (2 previous visits at lunch for a killer BLT with enough glistening, perfectly cooked bacon to make you go back again the next day). I ordered a roast corn and goat cheese pizza for my main meal, but thought I would try their baked chicken wings for an appetizer. Everything else I had there was good - these certainly couldn't be any worse than what I get back home. I'm not going to write about the pizza - it was redongulicious - but I expected it would be. The wings on the other hand were surprisingly excellent.
The dish was plated with a radish the size of a small apple and plenty of delicious, house-made blue cheese dressing. Most importantly, the wings were big, meaty and juicy. I've always believed that if you start with crap, you'll end up with crap, and starting with a good, quality piece of meat is crucial whether you're cooking a steak, a pork chop or chicken wings. The sauce was not as spicy as I prefer, but the combination of a juicy wing and this blue cheese sauce was so delicious, I nearly forgot that they weren't deep fried at all. They even came served with a warm, moist towel for cleaning your hands after. Awesomeness.
Baked wings - I shall scoff no more at thee.
Wednesday 20 July 2011
Wednesday 13 July 2011
Big Sugar, Century Casino, Calgary, July 8, 2011
I broke up with Big Sugar on November 7, 1998, the day after attending three shows in a row and nearly six years before the band officially called it quits. By all accounts it was an amicable split; I still called myself a fan, and I can guarantee the band never noticed my absence. My reason for leaving at this point was simple: they had changed from a band of and for the fans into a corporate money making machine that had become uncharacteristically predictable.
I had just experienced a trio of shows while the band was on a very cool tour with Gov't Mule. Big Sugar opened the show on US dates while the Mule swapped places and started the night in Canadian cities. The catalyst for my breakup with the band stemmed from two nearly identical shows on back to back nights in Kitchener and Toronto. They were exact replicas of each other right down to the moment Gordie walked across the stage, put his arm around Kelly Hoppe and kissed him on the cheek. Same songs, same stage banter, same 'unscripted' moments, two nights in a row, in cities less than two hours apart. For large, veteran stadium bands like U2 or Iron Maiden, this type of behaviour was to be expected. For Big Sugar, this spelled the end of what I enjoyed about the band. In the US, Big Sugar delivered a tight, dense set similar to their infamous club shows that developed their fan base. It was a different story back home. Their follow up record (Brothers and Sisters Are You Ready?) featured the addition of a second guitar player and a profound increase of the reggae vibe the band always kept simmering in the background. The group I had seen grow from a simple, blues trio into one of Canada's biggest and loudest musical treasures had lost my interest.
Thirteen years later, enter a new album (Revolution Per Minute) and new tour dates. Ticket prices were steep at $50 a piece. I seem to recall shelling out close to $10 for the same two bands in 1996! Needless to say, while I was curious, I was not two nights and over $100 curious. It looked like the money making machine was still intact, and I decided to catch the first of the two shows at Calgary's Century Casino.
This casino is without a doubt a shady place. The internal concert hall on the other hand had great sound and was quite spacious, though the beer queue kept my consumption woefully in check. Openers Wide Mouth Mason featured Mr. Johnson on bass, having just produced their latest release. They sounded pretty much like I remember them - great vocals, half decent guitar playing and solid rhythm, but lacking any kind of depth or grit. I recognized two can-rock hits from their set of mostly new material, and they did not disappoint, nor inspire, rather they just killed some time.
The Big Sugar lineup featured the core trio of Gordie Johnson, Gary Lowe and Kelly Hoppe, joined by new drummer Bodean, rastaman Friendlyness and Meredith Shaw on background vocals. The guys from Wide Mouth Mason sat in all night, as did Gordie's daughter Lesia Johnson on background vocals. The latter addition was cute, though a little disturbing considering the subject matter of some of the material. A good third of their setlist consisted of new songs, starting with the opener "Work It Now". This was followed quickly by the familiar "Diggin' A Hole", "Dear Mr. Fantasy" and "If I Had My Way".
Unfortunately, I was unable to record a setlist, but it was very close to the one found here. Exceptions that I remember include Joe Louis instead of 54-46, and the encore went Red Rover, Revolution Per Minute, Ride Like Hell. Overall, light on early material, heavy on the new record and later Big Sugar releases.
The band sounded a little loose and were not as loud as they used to be, but there still is nothing like the sound of Big Sugar. Kelly Hoppe's hair may be grey, but he can still blow a mean harmonica (even if he did miss the intro to "Opem Up Baby"). Gary Lowe "on the bass line, each and every time" has got to be one of my top five favourite bass players. For my taste, I could do without the reggae 'toasting' and weak keyboard sounds that Friendlyness brings to the mix, but I've always preferred Big Sugar as a quartet.
Gordie's voice was at times sketchy, and low in the mix - a pretty familiar occurrence at Big Sugar shows as his guitar volume easily overpowers pretty much everything. His guitar playing was his own unique brand, and loud enough to be heard in Okotoks. As usual his collection of instruments played at the show was impressive, featuring widespread use of multiple doubleneck Gibson EDS-1275s, his own signature SG and the black, P90 equipped Les Paul Custom featured on the cover of "500 Pounds". My memory is a little hazy, but I don't recall an ES-335 making an appearance - an odd site for those familiar with his choice of instruments from the "500 Pounds" and "Hemi-Vision" era. As usual, Gordie is single handedly keeping Kyser capos in business with a capo clipped to every headstock of each guitar.
While I was a disappointed in the lack of selections from the first record, and some concert favourites from "500 Pounds", overall it was a great show. I miss this band, and the country misses this band. Here's hoping they are able to stick around in the current music market.
I had just experienced a trio of shows while the band was on a very cool tour with Gov't Mule. Big Sugar opened the show on US dates while the Mule swapped places and started the night in Canadian cities. The catalyst for my breakup with the band stemmed from two nearly identical shows on back to back nights in Kitchener and Toronto. They were exact replicas of each other right down to the moment Gordie walked across the stage, put his arm around Kelly Hoppe and kissed him on the cheek. Same songs, same stage banter, same 'unscripted' moments, two nights in a row, in cities less than two hours apart. For large, veteran stadium bands like U2 or Iron Maiden, this type of behaviour was to be expected. For Big Sugar, this spelled the end of what I enjoyed about the band. In the US, Big Sugar delivered a tight, dense set similar to their infamous club shows that developed their fan base. It was a different story back home. Their follow up record (Brothers and Sisters Are You Ready?) featured the addition of a second guitar player and a profound increase of the reggae vibe the band always kept simmering in the background. The group I had seen grow from a simple, blues trio into one of Canada's biggest and loudest musical treasures had lost my interest.
Thirteen years later, enter a new album (Revolution Per Minute) and new tour dates. Ticket prices were steep at $50 a piece. I seem to recall shelling out close to $10 for the same two bands in 1996! Needless to say, while I was curious, I was not two nights and over $100 curious. It looked like the money making machine was still intact, and I decided to catch the first of the two shows at Calgary's Century Casino.
This casino is without a doubt a shady place. The internal concert hall on the other hand had great sound and was quite spacious, though the beer queue kept my consumption woefully in check. Openers Wide Mouth Mason featured Mr. Johnson on bass, having just produced their latest release. They sounded pretty much like I remember them - great vocals, half decent guitar playing and solid rhythm, but lacking any kind of depth or grit. I recognized two can-rock hits from their set of mostly new material, and they did not disappoint, nor inspire, rather they just killed some time.
The Big Sugar lineup featured the core trio of Gordie Johnson, Gary Lowe and Kelly Hoppe, joined by new drummer Bodean, rastaman Friendlyness and Meredith Shaw on background vocals. The guys from Wide Mouth Mason sat in all night, as did Gordie's daughter Lesia Johnson on background vocals. The latter addition was cute, though a little disturbing considering the subject matter of some of the material. A good third of their setlist consisted of new songs, starting with the opener "Work It Now". This was followed quickly by the familiar "Diggin' A Hole", "Dear Mr. Fantasy" and "If I Had My Way".
Unfortunately, I was unable to record a setlist, but it was very close to the one found here. Exceptions that I remember include Joe Louis instead of 54-46, and the encore went Red Rover, Revolution Per Minute, Ride Like Hell. Overall, light on early material, heavy on the new record and later Big Sugar releases.
The band sounded a little loose and were not as loud as they used to be, but there still is nothing like the sound of Big Sugar. Kelly Hoppe's hair may be grey, but he can still blow a mean harmonica (even if he did miss the intro to "Opem Up Baby"). Gary Lowe "on the bass line, each and every time" has got to be one of my top five favourite bass players. For my taste, I could do without the reggae 'toasting' and weak keyboard sounds that Friendlyness brings to the mix, but I've always preferred Big Sugar as a quartet.
Gordie's voice was at times sketchy, and low in the mix - a pretty familiar occurrence at Big Sugar shows as his guitar volume easily overpowers pretty much everything. His guitar playing was his own unique brand, and loud enough to be heard in Okotoks. As usual his collection of instruments played at the show was impressive, featuring widespread use of multiple doubleneck Gibson EDS-1275s, his own signature SG and the black, P90 equipped Les Paul Custom featured on the cover of "500 Pounds". My memory is a little hazy, but I don't recall an ES-335 making an appearance - an odd site for those familiar with his choice of instruments from the "500 Pounds" and "Hemi-Vision" era. As usual, Gordie is single handedly keeping Kyser capos in business with a capo clipped to every headstock of each guitar.
While I was a disappointed in the lack of selections from the first record, and some concert favourites from "500 Pounds", overall it was a great show. I miss this band, and the country misses this band. Here's hoping they are able to stick around in the current music market.
Hats in Restaurants
One of my favourite episodes of the Sopranos (Season 1, Episode 9 "Boca") features a small scene in which Tony confronts a douchebag wearing a baseball hat in a restaurant. It's impossible for me to count how many times I've wanted to do the exact same thing. Then again, I am Canadian.
I'm not a very formal person, but this act of poor manners drives me up the wall more than most. In fact, nothing says "douchebag" to me more than a jackass wearing his ball cap inside a restaurant (particularly if they are turned slightly askew and either barely sitting atop the cranium, or pulled down so far that you can't see the dude's eyebrows). My folk's rules did not stop at restaurants. They did not allow any hat wearing indoors at all: if you were in a building, you took your hat off. As I recall, though can't say as I was observing too closely, pretty much all my friends had the same rules, and we all followed them without too much hardship, though I am calling bullshit on my dad's phrase: "if you wear your hat in the house, your hall will fall out". I didn't, and it did anyway. The restaurant rule was certainly in full effect for 'Generation X' (I can't believe I used that term!). Why then have the children of this generation, and their subsequent offspring, forgotten this act of respect?
Self-awareness has been replaced by self-centredness. You see it in the drunks at the hockey game spewing expletives out of control next to a family with kids. You see it in the twenty-something mouth-breather that sits on the crowded bus/streetcar/subway while the grandmother and mother struggling to carry a baby hang on for dear life as they are forced to stand. You see it in the driver who knows his lane is ending but is going to go right to the last second and cut in because he doesn't want to wait like everybody else. Jackassery has become commonplace and tolerated by the public which is a damn shame, and it's only going to get worse. If it only takes one generation to lose the manners they were taught by their parents, shudder to think what will come next. Where's the head crusher from "Kids In The Hall" when you need him?
I'm not a very formal person, but this act of poor manners drives me up the wall more than most. In fact, nothing says "douchebag" to me more than a jackass wearing his ball cap inside a restaurant (particularly if they are turned slightly askew and either barely sitting atop the cranium, or pulled down so far that you can't see the dude's eyebrows). My folk's rules did not stop at restaurants. They did not allow any hat wearing indoors at all: if you were in a building, you took your hat off. As I recall, though can't say as I was observing too closely, pretty much all my friends had the same rules, and we all followed them without too much hardship, though I am calling bullshit on my dad's phrase: "if you wear your hat in the house, your hall will fall out". I didn't, and it did anyway. The restaurant rule was certainly in full effect for 'Generation X' (I can't believe I used that term!). Why then have the children of this generation, and their subsequent offspring, forgotten this act of respect?
Self-awareness has been replaced by self-centredness. You see it in the drunks at the hockey game spewing expletives out of control next to a family with kids. You see it in the twenty-something mouth-breather that sits on the crowded bus/streetcar/subway while the grandmother and mother struggling to carry a baby hang on for dear life as they are forced to stand. You see it in the driver who knows his lane is ending but is going to go right to the last second and cut in because he doesn't want to wait like everybody else. Jackassery has become commonplace and tolerated by the public which is a damn shame, and it's only going to get worse. If it only takes one generation to lose the manners they were taught by their parents, shudder to think what will come next. Where's the head crusher from "Kids In The Hall" when you need him?
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