St. Louis Eats and Drinks

A Little BBQ Joint

I’m probably prejudiced when I say every Missourian should visit the Truman Library in Independence, MO. My parents were living in Independence when I was born during the Truman Administration. Furthermore, coming out of a family of Democrats (who worshipped FDR because he made sure teachers got paid during the Depression), it always seemed to me as a kid that Harry Truman was a sort of surrogate grandfather. My parents and grandparents reminded me of the Independence link and that he, too, had a little girl, although she was a big girl by then. One of my earliest memories is the photos in National Geographic of the White House’s big interior remake during the Truman Administration.

For the first time since a couple of years after it opened, I recently went back to the Harry S Truman Presidential Library and Museum, enjoyed it immensely, and will return the next time I’m in town. It’s a good reminder of what Missouri politics could be like, in the very best sense of the words. That Thomas Hart Benton mural – Harry and Tom got to be quite the pals – is pretty swell, too.

There’s a good lunch place very close by, and easy to find, which will only enhance things. A Little BBQ Joint (that’s really its name) is just across the street. The entrance in the photo is not what you see from the road; that door is from the parking lot behind the restaurant. The darkish interior as well as the spacious multi-level outdoor area (most of which is covered), is themed to recycled vintage automobiles, many of which are in less-than obvious locations. It’s obvious that the place has gradually expanded with a certain what-the-hell flow of ideas, and while that wouldn’t work at some white-tablecloth spot, it’s surely fun here.

Followers of serious barbecue know that Kansas City is the home of burnt ends, a dish that’s evolved from its origins when they really were the chewy-crisp ends of brisket or ribs, and presumably either scorned or sought-after, the way corner pieces of brownies are. Nowadays they’re cubes of meat – in my experience, usually pork, but I admit that could be a statistical blip – that are rubbed and cooked. They’re boneless, so they sometimes show up in sandwiches. But they are mostly very good eating, and A Little’s burnt ends are exemplary, so good that sauce is superfluous. Tender and smoky and flavorful from their rub, it’s a downright dreamy dish. A pulled pork sandwich, generous in the amount of meat, was juicy, but not so flavorful as the burnt ends.

The house sauces here are sweet, spicy and hot, named Sweet Sister, Mad Housewife and Mean Mother-in-Law. (Yes, sexist. Proceed.) I squirted on both spicy and hot and got things just right for me.

Sides include some standard stuff – fries, beans, cole slaw, a mayonnaise-based potato salad that was fine – and some not-standard stuff. That includes a hot potato salad, which is not German style, but was described as more like potatoes au gratin. It’s not – it seems cheese-free – but it’s a sort of nicely seasoned scalloped potatoes, pieces rather than slices, notes of garlic and thyme, and very tasty despite being a surprise in a barbecue spot. Another uncommon side was cheesy corn. At least it’s uncommon in St. Louis, and elsewhere, but it seems to be a Kansas City thing. Whole kernel corn arrived in a thick white sauce. The savory sauce and the corn, sweet and still slightly crisp, were a good contrast, although I didn’t find the sauce very cheesy at all, unless they’d thrown some cream cheese in it, which was possible. Other versions around town are gooier and use cheddar or another yellow cheese, but this was an easy initiation to the dish, and one can imagine seeing it on tables at a family Easter dinner or such.

Live music on the weekends, and a Wednesday special of smoked meatloaf that intrigues. Pleasant servers, too.

 

A Little BBQ Joint

1101 W. Highway 24, Independence, Mo

816-252-2275

alittlebarbqjoint.com

Lunch and Dinner Tues.-Sun. (close 7 p.m. Sun.)

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Fair

Smoking: No

Sandwiches & Entrees: $6 - $24

Mediterranean Chicken Salad

Quickly – before tomato season is over, make this salad. It’s gorgeous, much of it is make-ahead, and it’s way not the mayonnaise-type chicken salad that so often induces stultifying boredom. I found it in the old, classic Silver Palate Cookbook and did a little adjusting.

While I’m buying the tomatoes, I usually can pick out my green beans, too. I prefer the not-too-fat ones, but I’d rather have local regular beans than prepackaged haricots verts, so use your judgment, as is the case with so many of these things. You may use boned or bone-in chicken breasts, whatever is available. I also prefer to cook the chicken breasts in chicken broth; I then strain the remaining liquid and freeze it (marking it DOUBLE STRENGTH CHX BROTH) and reuse it for the next poach, and repeat the process, as it gets more flavorful each time. Sometimes the frozen broth gets used for a particularly succulent soup or risotto. Then the process starts again.

I’ve made this the day before, layering it in a container, seasoned chicken, then olives and capers and then the green beans. When it was time to eat, I shook it out into a bowl, added the just-cut-up tomatoes and lemon juice, tossed lightly, checked and adjusted the seasoning, and went at it. It certainly doesn’t need to be served cold. Unfortunately it was scarfed down so quickly I couldn’t get photos.

 

Chicken breasts – about 3 pounds or so

chicken broth or lightly salted water in which to poach them

1/3 c. olive oil

1 ½ tsp. dried oregano

¾ c. black olives, preferably Greek or Nicoise

2  heaping Tbs. capers

¼ lb. green beans

juice of 1 lemon

2 medium or large tomatoes, cut in wedges or large chunks

salt and pepper

 

Bring the poaching liquid of your choice to a boil. Add the chicken breasts, return to the boil, drop the heat to a simmer, partially cover the pan, and cook for 20 minutes, more for larger breasts, less for smaller. Remove from heat and set the pan, breasts and all, aside, covered, until it cools. When cool, remove the chicken from the liquid. Remove skin and bones if necessary, and tear chicken into bite-sized pieces. Cover the pieces with the olive oil. Rub the oregano between your fingers or in the palm of your hand and add it to the chicken. Stir to make sure the seasoned olive oil is on each piece of chicken and set aside for an hour. Make sure to save your cooking liquid if you’re planning to keep it.

While waiting, string the beans, and cut in smaller pieces if desired. Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Prepare an ice water bath – I use a bowl with a half-dozen or so ice cubes in the water. Add the green beans and cook to desired tenderness. I like a little body to them, but not crunchy, so it seems to run about 5-6 minutes for medium-thickness beans. The way to check is to grab one, run it under cold water (or use the ice bath!) and bite. When ready, scoop them out of the boiling water and add them immediately to the ice bath so that they cool. Drain them when cool. If using them immediately, I pat them with a paper towel to dry somewhat.

Into the salad bowl, whether now or later, will go the beans, the chicken and its oregano-scented oil, the olives and the capers. Add the tomatoes and lemon juice if you’re serving it now, and mix. I do salt and pepper this moderately, but your taste is the best guide.

Serves 4 to 6, but as always, that just depends.

Kindertransport

Kindertransport is a disquieting piece of theatre. On one level, that’s not surprising. Much of what’s been written about Nazi Germany is, and rightfully so. But this, talking about the evacuation of Jewish children to Great Britain, just as the war is about to start, would seem like it could be warm, perhaps even charming. Escaping from storm troopers: What could be bad?

Well, lots. This isn’t a full-out dread sort of story. But it’s certainly unsettling, with ramifications most of us haven’t thought about. A 9-year old girl, Eva (Hannah Ryan) is being sent off to Great Britain by her mother (Kelley Weber) and unseen father. Things are snowballing in Germany, and her parents tell her they will be able to follow her soon. But they can’t, and the woman, Lil (Kirsten De Broux), who takes her in is kind but unlearned about Jews and Judaism. Scenes flash back and forth between all this and the life of the now-grown Eva, re-named Evelyn (Michelle Hand), and her own daughter, (Katy Keating).

The main question we are faced with here is what did it do to the children? They were sent away by their parents for motives most of them didn’t understand, arriving in a strange country whose language they didn’t speak and being brought to foster homes whose adults were adjusting to all this too – although some ended up in hostels and such, without even foster parents. Word from their birth parents was intermittent at best, and the rituals of their homes, both religious and personal, were changed or evaporated altogether. The amount of tears, the nightmares, the acting-out overall must have been tremendous.

Eva, now Evelyn, stayed in Manchester, England. Her foster parents adopted her, and when we see her she’s middle-aged, with a daughter who’s old enough to be moving out but who, we note, seems to have some trouble cutting the cord. Her daughter, Faith, accidentally finds a small box of things in the attic, a storybook in German, some letters and a couple of photographs. Faith, we discover, has never been told about her mother’s early life. She’s livid, but Evelyn stonewalls, and won’t talk about it. “That’s the past. It has nothing to do with you.” Evelyn’s livid with her adopted mother, who’s on hand, for admitting to Faith that, yes, it’s true, I didn’t adopt your mom as a baby.

Evelyn is as controlled and minimizing as a well-oiled machine, certainly not one to make a scene, unlike Faith, who is convinced that she has been deprived of a birthright by the withholding of the information. Evelyn is more English than the English, we might think. But this isn’t Englishness, this is playing full-court defense against pain.

Michelle Hand, as the grownup Evelyn, is as hard and faceted as a diamond, quite lovely but able to scratch hard surfaces, like, oh, her daughter. Katy Keating, playing the daughter, is volatile and covers her own unsureness with frequent eruptions, enough that it’s hard to be sympathetic with the character. Their set-tos are well-staged by director Deanna Jent, as are the others in the show. De Broux and Weber do their Mom-ing warmly and well, and Hannah Ryan as Eva goes from 9 to her late teens smoothly and believably, giving hints, we realize in retrospect, of what she’s becoming as she’s learning about ham sandwiches and becoming Evelyn. Brian J. Rolf, he of the remarkable cheekbones, covers the stylistic front, going from a Nazi official on the train to a do-gooder trying to wrangle the little girl on her arrival in London and more. (Although the idea of a British postman getting the child to do “Heil Hitler!” salutes as part of a joking interaction is remarkably strange.)

The staging gives us a wide, not terribly deep two-level attic from Kyra Bishop. The audience is on three sides, two rows in front and more on each side. Nancy Bell, the voice coach, has given us Mancunian accents that work quite well for the mother, daughter and granddaughter. Alas, the acoustics swallow some dialogue when actors are facing away from one side or the other of the audience.

No tidy ending, to be sure. But interesting things to contemplate and some fine performances.

 

Kindertransport

Mustard Seed Theatre

through September 4

Fontbonne University

6800 Wydown Blvd (enter off Big Bend)

314-719-8060

www.mustardseedtheatre.com

Brunch: Bixby's

Bixby's, on the second floor of the Missouri History Museum has rather a different formula for brunch, part buffet and part sit-down. And, for those who are gourmands (or merely curious) as well as gourmets, one may order as much and as often as desired from the sit-down portion of the menu. One price covers everything, including mimosas. 

The photo here shows an egg Benedict. They were, the day of my visit, also offering a mushroom benedict which was quite good as well, and the hollandaise was quite proper, a little sharp with lemon, just the way I prefer it. The classic French style is much more about butter and egg, but I cut my hollandaise teeth in New Orleans and love how that take avoids the egg-on-egg-ness in a Benedictine situation. (I'm also not crazy about custard sauce on bread pudding for the same reason.) 

So I wrote about it for Dining, the food section of St. Louis Magazine's blog, and you can read that here. A strong recommendation for reservations, even if it's ten minutes before you leave the house. And don't forget, right now the Route 66 exhibition is open. 

 

Bixby's

Missouri History Museum

5700 Lindell Blvd.

Forest Park

314-361-7313

Website

Brunch Sun., Lunch, Mon.-Sat.

 

 

Inherit the Wind

There’s a reason why Inherit the Wind has become a classic. The best-known work from the prolific duo of Jerome Lawrence and Robert Edwin Lee, it’s been done countless times since its 1955 opening, with Broadway revivals, London runs, community theaters and three, count ‘em, three television versions. The play, of course, is based on the case known as the Scopes monkey trial in Tennessee in 1925. In that trial, a teacher was accused of teaching evolution, which was contrary to a newly passed state law.

The play has come to be what most people believe is the story of the trial. It’s not an accurate portrayal. Nevertheless, it’s an interesting story by a couple of playwrights who sometimes used theater for political statements. (Their The Night Thoreau Spent in Jail looked at civil disobedience, a tactic in heavy use in 1969, the year the play opened, both by the civil rights and the anti-Vietnam war movements.) Two heavyweight attorneys, both from out of state, are brought in to do battle over the charge, and a columnist from a newspaper in Baltimore is set to document the prize fight.

Allan Knoll is Matthew Harrison Brady, the character based on William Jennings Bryan. Knoll’s Brady often operates slightly tongue in cheek, as though he can scarcely control his amusement at the foolishness of anyone believing in Darwin’s theories. He and his opposite number, Henry Drummond, played by John Contini and based on Clarence Darrow, were once great friends. Contini’s Darrow seems not to have much of a sense of humor at all about this very serious question of whether it’s possible to legislate teaching about ideas. At least he doesn’t until the trial begins and he starts questioning witnesses, when his wit catches them and beguiles the audience. Knoll blusters with the best of them, and when he and Contini are bellowing over each other in argument before the bench, we may not be able to grasp every word, but it’s hard and real and angry. Contini shows Thinking Man at his best, no matter how disheveled he is – Darrow may have originated The Comb Over, and seems often in his photographs to be permanently rumpled. It’s a fine performance.

Of course, almost everyone here is rumpled here to varying degrees. It’s July in the un-air conditioned Mid South. The defendant, played by Pete Winfrey, a mild but strong-willed young teacher, is being kept in a jail cell in the courthouse basement and enjoys its coolth. His sweetheart, Sigrid Wise, also seems to merely glow rather than sweat, but perhaps that’s just the well-contained romance of the era, their attraction obvious but physically restrained quite well by the two actors.

The young woman’s father, Michael Brightman, is the town’s pastor, deeply offended by any hint of evolution and preaching hellfire and damnation right and left. Brightman’s good, particularly at glowering, but why did they put him, in an era of small-town Protestantism and residual anti-Romanism, in a clerical collar? Surely the Baptist (or Methodist or Nazarene) preacher would be wearing a (probably rather shabby) suit. Jason Contini is E.K. Hornbeck, the Baltimore-based scribe who’s careful to explain that he’s a critic, not a reporter. His Hornbeck seems rather less condescending than H.L. Mencken, on whom the character is based. (You can read some of his writing about the scene there here.)

Others of note include Susie Wall as Brady’s very supportive wife, who may well be the power behind the briefcase. The costuming choices of Tracey Newcomb-Margave do far better here, as Wall emerges looking like the leading national political figure of Alton, IL, several decades ago. Young Howard Blair, playing a student of the science teacher, carries off without flaw his turn in the witness chair. It’s a large cast, with much of the second act’s jury played by audience members who volunteered to be brought onstage wearing a few accessories of the period. It’s surprisingly smoothly done, and fits right in with the very workable set from Kyra Bishop and Oliver Littleton.

Sydnie Grosberg Ronga directed, and has pulled it all together pretty well. Except for a few muffled lines early in the first act, things moved swiftly and well. It’s still an exceptionally relevant piece of theatre, but for the life of me, I don’t understand why the argument of church and state was ignored by the authors. Nevertheless, a good few hours, especially in this political climate.

 

Inherit the Wind

through August 28

Insight Theatre Company

Heagney Theatre at Nerinx Hall\

530 E. Lockwood Ave., Webster Groves

314-556-1293

insighttheatrecompany.com

Tell Me on a Sunday

Tell Me on a Sunday, one of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s lesser-known works, is something rather different for New Line Theatre. It’s a song cycle, or, to put it slightly differently, a one-woman one-act musical.

It’s the story of Emma, a young British woman whose search for romance takes her from London to the United States. Sarah Porter, as Emma, handles Lloyd Webber’s fairly demanding music and the lyrics by Don Black and Richard Maltby, Jr., with ease. Her English accent sounds very good and its gradual disappearance as she stays in the States is easy and logical. Like opera, this sort of thing demands acting simultaneously with the singing and she’s clearly comfortable with that. It’s a satisfying performance on a number of levels.

Porter has also done costuming for a number of New Line productions, and she’s continued that here. A few of her costumes are part of Rob Lippert’s set that transitions from London to New York to Los Angeles and back to New York. His lighting punctuates the story well, and indeed is particularly notable.

The show has gone through a number of iterations since its opening in 1979. (And, no, it was not written for Sarah Brightman. In fact, its genesis was in a torrid affair by someone other than Lloyd Webber.) The score, while hidden in the glare from other Lloyd Webber works like Cats and Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, is among his better works. The lyrics are often excellent, and not only in the delicious “Capped Teeth and Caesar Salad”, a tribute to California gleaming.

One might argue that the basic premise is dated, the story of a woman whose life seems to pivot around finding a man, the right man. To a degree, that’s true. But the belief is still not uncommon among young women today, whether they realize it or not. And the fact is, wanting someone to love and to love you is, simply, a very human sort of feeling. Who are we to be judgmental?

 

Tell Me on a Sunday

through August 27

Marcel Theatre

3310 Samuel Shepherd Drive

newlinetheatre.com

Garden Tour and Dinner at Eleven Eleven Mississippi

Paul and Wendy Hamilton put in a garden a few years ago to help provide good stuff for their restaurants, Eleven Eleven Mississippi, Vin de Set and PW Pizza. It has flourished, and this year, for three consecutive Fridays, they're offering tours and a prix fixe dinner afterwards. 

I had a test run of the first menu, which was a fine salad, a riff on a Lyonnaise, with a mild arugula, soft-cooked egg and crisped-up guanciale, a take on a caprese salad with mozzarella, some wonderfully sweet grilled eggplant and mozzarella, and then roasted pork, porchetta style, with the traditional fennel notes, plopped on a potato puree and some mixed braised greens. It was a lovely meal, delicious and just the right spot between exotic and homey. Even a fairly conservative eater would have been thrilled with it. That's the menu tonight, if there are any spots left; you need a reservation (314-241-9999).

There are two more such evenings coming up on the next two Friday nights, one with lamb and another with pork. Here's where you can get the scoop:

http://hamiltonhospitality.net/resturants/eleven-eleven-mississippi/

Elton John & Tim Rice's Aida

Somehow, I suspect Giuseppe Verdi is not rolling over in his grave at Elton John & Tim Rice’s Aida. Verdi was interested in financial success, and considering popular culture, this version of the Aida story is far better than what might have appeared.

Faint praise? Only technically. It’s great fun at the Muny for its final presentation of the 2016 season. Surely any story involving ancient Egypt has the potential for good visuals, and the opening scene, taking place in the dessert, pyramids in the background, gives us to understand that this is all fantasy, simply by creating a scene that evokes something from Tatooine in Star Wars.

Egypt is at war with Nubia, and a ship docks with Nubian captives. A woman among them challenges the captain, Radames (Zak Resnick), but she’s brought up short by his men. He sends the rest off to a prison camp, but keeps the woman, whose name is Aida (Michelle Williams), as a slave-gift to his bethrothed, the Princess Amneris (Taylor Louderman). Will this be a clash of the titans? Well, no, because Aida is smart as well as spirited, and she understands Amneris better than one would think – because, hey, Aida’s a princess, too, the daughter of the Nubian king. And Radames seems quite taken with Aida.

Like The Lion King, also from John and Rice, the show has comedic moments as well as dramatic ones. When we first meet Amneris, we could be looking at a scene from Legally Blonde, so superficial is she. But her father, the pharoah (Lara Teeter) is ill, and she begins to realize just how close to real responsibility she is. Radames’ father Zoser (Patrick Cassidy), is a counselor to the pharoah, helping things along in several ways. The subtitle of the show might well be “A Tale of Three Fathers”, because Aida’s father Amonasro (Ken Page) is captured and imprisoned. Aida’s efforts to free him complicate the love story between her and Radames.

Williams is an absolute winner as Aida, leaning into the role and taking full possession of it. And as Louderman’s character matures over the course of the play, she, too, lifts her performance, almost matching Williams’ star power. Resnick is well-matched with both women, distancing himself from one princess and drawn to another, although it’s late in the show, of course, when he discovers the titular majesty of Aida.

Of the fathers, Aida’s has the fewest lines, but Ken Page stage presence pretty much owns things when he’s on. This must have been the year’s easiest casting. Cassidy sounds great, and it’s always fun to see the versatile Teeter, but it’s Page that one can’t stop watching.

The score is considerable fun, with some songs quite distinctly Eltonian in feel, others with the feel of African traditional music. Robin L. McGee’s costumes glitter without looking, well, Disneyesque, and if the styles aren’t chronologically logical, what the heck.

The director is Matt Lenz, who has put together a satisfying evening of a show we’ve not seen very often in St. Louis. And he, like the other directors this year, has effectively used the Muny youth ensemble to great effect, something we’re happy to note.

See you next year!

 

Elton John & Tim Rice’s Aida

through August 14

The Muny

Forest Park

www.muny.org

Parigi

This time of year, the sunlight in Parigi is a wonder. That’s not the only reason to eat there, but it’s the first thing that might strike diners, especially if they enter through the garage parking on the east side of the building. Overlooking Clayton’s Shaw Park, the tall windows make it feel almost like eating on a balcony. It’s a handsome room, done in red tones from peach and orange on to an almost lacquer red, even small accessories like trays.

Parigi is the newest restaurant from Ben Poremba, whom St. Louisans know from Olio and Elaia – although that adjective “newest” will probably disappear soon, as he apparently has a pizza spot up his sleeve. Poremba’s brought Ramon Cuffie on board to run the kitchen. Most experienced St. Louis gastronauts first found Cuffie in the kitchen at Bar Italia, so putting him in this Italian-ish steakhouse-ish spot is a logical move.

“Ish” is as far as one should go with those descriptors. There’s a fair amount on the menu that falls into neither category. But one thing that’s very Italian, happily, is the option to have pasta as a primi, a starter course, the way they do in Italy. Some recent reviews have raved about the cresta di gallo, which translates as “rooster’s comb”. Good. I’m going to rave about it too. It’s stunning, flavorful with the local mushrooms, a touch of greens that have been braised, just a wee bit of heat from a dab of chili oil, and the properly al dente pasta, not hard, but firm enough that it wasn’t sloppy and falling apart. It’s the sort of dish that it’s hard not to order on every subsequent visit to the restaurant.

Another first course didn’t fare quite so well. Grilled romaine lettuce had been left on the fire so long it became limp – perhaps larger cuts would have helped with this – and while the grilled bread and marinated anchovy were tasty, the dressing on the lettuce was pretty wan unless the cheese, seemingly real Parmigiano, showered over the lettuce got involved.

Didn’t try any of the three steaks offered. Two are $38, the third, a porterhouse served in the Florentine style (and at 32 ounces certainly shareable), is $110. The secondi, or main courses, mostly seem quite hearty, almost wintery. But two of them proved impossible to forego in favor of the possibly lighter chicken and salmon.

A braise of veal cheeks floats off the plate and into the mouth, delicate and rich at the same time, punctuated by dice of pancetta and more of those wild mushrooms. The light golden-colored mash on the side turns out to be from Japanese sweet potatoes, fluffy and a nice contrast to the richness of the veal. Lovers of lamb shank may be astounded to find that the lentils that come with Parigi’s rendition of the dish are actually the star of the plate. The lamb shank is perfectly done, not quite falling apart, but tender and moist as it should be. But those lentils – ah, those lentils! Cooked in the lamb juices, certainly, but some Madeira as well, and perhaps just a hint of ginger in them? Astonishing. They would be divine with pork or pheasant, any of the rich dark meats that we’ll see more of in the autumn.

It’s foolish to resist dessert here. They’re from Simone Faure at La Patisserie Chouquette, in which the polydigital Poremba also has a finger. A strawberry-balsamic vinegar ice cream is the most deeply strawberry-flavored I’ve ever tasted, despite its relatively pale color. There’s more going for the tirami-choux than just the pun in its name. Faure has given us the traditional dough used for cream puffs, known as choux paste, made the puff – but filled it with tiramisu-type filling, mascarpone cheese, espresso, and then put a little meringue that’s beautifully browned. It puts ladyfingers to shame.

Of note from the cocktail list is the French 75, a champagne cocktail with oomph added with gin, lemon and simple syrup. It came in a tall, narrow glass with ice cubes, way not traditional, but a lovely presentation and a pleasant change, especially here in mid-summer.

The service was good, but my pal knew the chef and was recognized by him before I arrived. Whether or not that influenced things, one never knows, but I saw no one craning their neck seeking assistance or glaring at their plate.

A couple of logistical notes: No more breakfast, just brunch. Enter through the garage whose entrance is on Bonhomme – the exit gate was up when I left – and take the elevator down a level, or on Brentwood Boulevard, but not at the corner of Brentwood and Bonhomme. The entrance is up the feet a number of yards.

 

 

Parigi

8025 Bonhomme Ave., Clayton

314-899-9767

parigistl.com/

Lunch & Dinner Mon.-Sat., Brunch Sun.

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Good from garage

Smoking: No

Entrees: $26-$110 (but see above)

 

Bat Boy: The Musical

Bat Boy: The Musical, it is acknowledged, began with a cover story in the Weekly World News, one of those publications cooing seductively at supermarket checkout lines. One never is quite sure of how that original story came to be, but presented on stage, it’s reminiscent of a funny take on a nightmare. Stray Dog Theatre is currently staging it at Tower Grove Abbey, their home.

Logic, of course, is never a factor in this story of a half-bat/half-human guy. Corey Fraine is absolutely remarkable as Edgar, the title character, wonderfully physical as the play opens, including some popups behind the sofa in one of the musical numbers, and with a fine voice despite working with an appliance in his mouth to create the bat teeth. He’s captured in a West Virginia cave by a bunch of teenagers and taken by the sheriff to the home of a local vet, Dr. Thomas Parker (Patrick Kelly). Parker’s out hunting, so Mrs. Parker (Dawn Schmidt) and their teenaged daughter (Angela Bubash) put the creature in a large cage. The locals, we find, are not so keen on having this bat boy around – they think he’s been killing their cattle.

Kelly and Schmidt well create the tension-filled marriage and Bubash’s hormone-riddled adolescent is almost perfectly drawn. The rest of the show is traditionally cast using actors in multiple roles, always with one of each actor’s characters in the opposite gender. Some of this character-flipping is done onstage, which is fun rather than disconcerting, and the generally strong company carries it off with style. Colin Dowd, as the mother of the teenaged spelunkers, is delicious. Sara Rae Womack brings the earnestness of a young Hillary Clinton to the mayor of the town. If one were interested in a combination of Colonel Sanders and a whirling dervish, one could hardly do better than Michael A. Wells’ presentation of the Reverend Billy Hightower, a visiting evangelist.

A well-thought-out set from Robert J. Lippert gives us two levels, including a nest for the three-piece combo that accompanies the score, a cave and a stair for teenaged stomping up. Cara Hoppes McCulley’s costumes, particularly Mrs. Parker’s suit and an honest-to-god cancan petticoat, add to the fun. And overall, this is a very amusing evening, despite some very adult themes.

No one is credited with the sound design. But the opening night’s big flaw was the inability to hear much of the vocal music over the band. Some of those lyrics seem pretty funny. We deserve to hear them all.

Stray Dog is reeling from the shockingly sudden death of production manager Jay Hall as they were in rehearsal for this show. It’s to the credit of artistic director Gary F. Bell and Bat Boy’s director Justin Been that they’ve put together an almost entirely enjoyable evening despite the situation. The show, indeed, must go on, and it certainly has.

 

Bat Boy: The Musical

through August 20

Stray Dog Theatre

Tower Grove Abbey

2336 Tennessee

314-865-1005

www.straydogtheatre.org

Ginger-Molasses Cookies

Cookie time again. I brought a batch of these with me when I worked at the polls Tuesday. I suppose there are folks who don’t like this sort of dark, chewy, spicy cookie, but there aren’t many. The original recipe, which I got out of the Back in the Day Cookbook from a few years ago made them with a quarter-cup of dough each, which made for immense cookies that spread more than the suggested 2 inches between each bit of unbaked dough would allow. I’ve changed the recipe to reflect how smaller ones can be managed.

The crowning touch is the turbinado sugar in which the dough is rolled before going onto the baking sheets. It’s great to make the crusty edges and exterior. I suppose you could use coarse sugar for that step, but I can’t guarantee it, and now that I have turbinado on hand, I may try using it for other cookies, like peanut butter.

The bad news is, it does dirty up several bowls; the good news is, it’s ingredients that, except for the turbinado, I pretty much always have on hand. When you measure your molasses, grease your measuring cup first. It’ll save you having to wait for the slow-as molasses drip out, or having to rubber-spatula it out.

 

MOLASSES-GINGER COOKIES

2 ¼ cups all-purpose flour

1 ½ tsp. baking soda

2 tsp. ground cinnamon

1 ½ tsp. ground cloves

1 tsp. fine sea salt

½ c. vegetable shortening (like Crisco) room temperature

6 Tbs. butter, room temperature

1 ½ c. packed light brown sugar

2 large eggs, room temperature

1/3 c. dark molasses

2 tsp. ground ginger

1 c. turbinado sugar

 

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, cloves and salt. Set aside.

If you’re using a stand mixer, use the paddle attachment, or just in a large bowl, use a handheld mixer, to beat the shortening, butter and brown sugar together on medium speed until smooth, creamy and light in color, 3 to 5 minutes. Add the eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Scrape down as needed, including after the last egg. Add the molasses and ginger, and mix on low for 1 minute. Add the flour mixture in thirds – the original recipe calls for doing this as the mixer is running, but I suspect if you stop the mixer, sprinkle the flour all over the batter and re-start the mixer slowly, it would work. Just mix until thoroughly incorporated, no more than 2 minutes.

Transfer the dough to another bowl if necessary so you can refrigerate it, and finish mixing with a rubber spatula to make sure no bits of flour or butter are on the bottom of the bowl. Cover and chill for at least 1 hour. (The dough can be refrigerated if wrapped well for up to 4 days.)

Position a rack in the lower third of the oven and preheat to 350 degrees. Line your cookie sheets with parchment. This is a sticky dough and the cookies come out very soft.

Put the turbinado sugar in a small bowl. I ended up using about a rounded tablespoon of dough for my optimal size cookie. Whatever size you choose, roll it into a rough ball and then roll in the sugar to coat completely. Space well apart on the baking sheet, flatten slightly and sprinkle on a little more of the turbinado sugar.

Bake one sheet at a time. This is one recipe that you really should follow those instructions to turn the pan around halfway through the baking time. The big quarter-cup ones should go for 15-18 minutes, and be puffy. (The recipe says they should be golden brown. They go in the oven brown; golden is impossible to discern, I find.) The ones I made went 13-15 minutes, and I might leave them in a little longer the next time.

Slide them, on the parchment, onto wire racks and let cool completely. The cookies will be soft in the middle and slightly crunchy on the edges. I do find that overnighting them in a cookie tin softens the edges, and of course the flavors evolve, too.

Yield? Your call.

Fiddler on the Roof

It’s always heartening when an old standard of the theatre exceeds expectations. When the production turns out to be truly satisfying, it’s the sort of thing that can cause even the most acerbic to stroll out wearing a smile. And that’s the case with the Muny’s Fiddler on the Roof.

It’s not a shiny production. The village of Anatekva in pre-revolutionary Russia is poor. When the butcher is considered a real catch by the resident matchmaker, you know you’re among truly simple folk. The sets, by Robert Mark Morgan, seem simple (until you realize they’re being folded and unfolded) but that’s not the surprise to the eye. They’ve moved the orchestra to stage rear, emphasizing the music, and it’s a fine, logical move. After all, the rooftop fiddler, Andrew Crowe, is the first person we see, and he continues to appear through the show. The colors are mostly drabbed down in Amy Clark’s costumes – but they move. Oh, how they move. Watch the women’s skirts in the dance numbers.

The satisfaction comes from deeper than that. Michael McCormick’s Tevye is so warm he almost glows. His chats with his dear friend, the Almighty, are affectionate, even when he isn’t getting what he wants, which, of course, is most of the time. He carries his poverty with some grace and clearly loves his five, count ‘em, five daughters. About the only time he gets testy is with his wife, Golde (Anne L. Nathan), who is the ramrod of this outfit. Golde has some of the best lines in the show and Nathan shows them off to fine advantage, making Golde less of a shrew than is sometimes the case.

It’s the combination of a pending pogrom and his daughters’ marriages that create the story line here. Tzeitel (Haley Bond), the eldest, may end up with the butcher Lazar Wolf (Peter Van Wagner) – and why is he the only character in the play with two names? - but she’s actually in love with her childhood friend, Motel (Alan Schmuckler, showing considerable not-a-nebbish talent), a poor tailor. The next oldest, Hodel (Briana Carlson-Goodman) is wooed by a wandering scholar-revolutionary, Perchik (the zippy Marrick Smith). The middle girl, Chava (Carly Blake Sebouhian), is gently pursued by a Russian soldier (Colby Dezelick), a Gentile. When she doesn’t scorn him, this may be the last straw for Tevye. All three of the daughters sound wonderful in “Matchmaker, Matchmaker”.

This is clearly a strong season for dance at the Muny, and in Fiddler, it’s the men who get a chance to show off, with Cossack-ish moves and the trademark bottle dance. Great fun, and proof that spangles are not required when it comes to dazzling a Muny audience.

Sheldon Harnick, the lyricist for the show, is coming in Tuesday night to be inducted into the Muny Hall of Fame and to hear one of his songs that will be performed in the stage version of the show for the first time. “Any Day Now” is the first song in the second act, sung by Perchik, and it’s, not surprisingly, quite lovely.

There’s a great story about the show from Dennis Brown’s notes in the program, which are always worth reading. When the show opened in Tokyo in the 1970s, Joseph Stern, the librettist, was approached at intermission by a young man who asked if he was affiliated with the show. Yes, said the librettiist. Was the show really a hit in America, asked the young man. Indeed it was, replied Stern, who went on to ask why the young man was inquiring, didn’t he like the show?. “The young man”, writes Brown, “was taken aback by the query. ‘Of course I like it’, he said. ‘But it’s so Japanese.’”

“Tradition”, one of the other signature songs from the show, opens the first act. And in any society with tradition (like, say, St. Louis), the show speaks to everyone.

 

 

Fiddler on the Roof

through August 5

The Muny

Forest Park

muny.org