St. Louis Eats and Drinks

Brunch: Cielo

This town has always loved the fancy hotel brunch. Cielo at the Four Seasons Hotel downtown is going after people with that hankering. They’re hopping, so busy that when I broke the old family rule and walked in one Sunday without a reservation or even a phone call at 11 a.m, they told me that the earliest they could seat me was 1.30 p.m. So please call in advance if you go.

With the advance of nice weather, it will only get busier, as there’s now outside seating on the terrace by the pool, too, with that great view of the Arch and the river. Another advantage is that in the daytime that ghastly giant video billboard isn’t flashing a few hundred feet away to remind you of exactly where you are.

They’ve laid it out quite well, six separate sections that avoids serious clogs in the flow of traffic except at the bar. There’s plenty of room between tables, a graceful touch. But there are difficulties elsewhere.

My first surprise was when I went looking for the salads and similar dishes. A large cheese and charcuterie display was clearly appreciated by the earlier guests, but the only other offerings were a large green salad and some red pepper hummus. Across the way prime rib was being carved. What I saw was pink or tan; another guest complained that they weren’t serving it sufficiently rare. There’s an omelet station, of course, and it was busy.

Seafood is featured, and there were indeed lashings of shrimp, already peeled, probably before cooking, considering their slightly soft texture. Oysters on the half shell, probably Gulf, to judge from their mildness, but surprisingly large. Crab claws unfortunately didn’t appear until I was literally walking out of the restaurant. Interestingly the smoked salmon, which was quite good, showed up in far more limited quantities – every time I passed the rather small rectangular platter, there were only one or two pieces on it, so it must have been popular.

Chafing dishes offered link sausages, very nice, very juicy, some unremarkable bacon, and a surprisingly tasty version of the ubiquitous breakfast potato, cubes that were deepfried, but well seasoned, a little onion and sweet pepper and a dusting of one of the hard cheeses. On the west side of the chafing dish table were two seafood pastas, a seafood ravioli that was delicious and a lobster macaroni and cheese. I saw no visible lobster, and tasted none, but it was among the better mac and cheeses I’ve seen on a buffet table. Another pasta was sauced with pesto. The vegetables of the day, squash and cauliflower cooked together, completed that group.

There’s a handsome bread station with good croissants, a gluten-free bread and some amusing-looking white-topped buns that turned out to be citrus-cinnamon, although slightly stale. They’re frying doughnuts at the dessert stations, and those were delightful, perhaps not as handsome as the commercial kind, but still worthwhile. Bombolini, or filled doughnuts, weren’t fried to order, but were very fresh. They had a chocolate custard filling, and finger-sized servings of a chocolate raspberry cake and a riff on tiramisu were both excellent. One of the latter two was gluten free – I believe it was the raspberry cake, but don’t hold me to that. Mini-tarts had a citrus curd filling and fresh berries.

Throughout the meal, though, there was a remarkable shortage of dinner plates. On my first round, I found none at all, until I finally located a few at the omelet station. Throughout the meal, they continued in very short supply. And for a high-end hotel restaurant, service was strangely lacking. The server didn’t tell me what beverages were included; I had to ask. Some coffee was spilled when it first arrived. The server noticed it, and apologized, saying it would be taken care of. Half of it was. The rest stayed on the table for the entire meal. It was very good coffee, though. Fifty-five minutes after I first sat down, I surrendered and asked if I could please have more. No one was circulating with a coffee pot offering refills and the server never inquired. The mimosas and bloody Marys that are included have to be obtained by going to the bar and waiting for them. Apparently there are smoothies and boozy milkshakes available, but those must have been on double super secret probation, because I only heard about them by, oh, forgive me, eavesdropping.

The sign says parking is included, but I paid $5 when I handed my ticket over downstairs. At this point, I just sighed. The standard adult tab is $48; I used a Groupon and paid $32. Was all this because I’d told them I had a Groupon? Is it like getting the worst room in the hotel because you reserved through one of the travel consolidators? (Note: Don’t ever do that – hotel chains’ own websites will equal their price and you’ll have a better shot at a view of something more than the garbage bins.)

I expected more variety. I would have expected a few more items for vegetarians, although I admit virtue could take a back seat with the desserts available. And I certainly expected better service, which was far from what this room is capable of, I know from experience.

Mothers Day and Fathers Day are coming up, and all the college graduations. Time to get your A Game on, Four Seasons.

 

Cielo

Four Seasons Hotel St. Louis

999 North 2^nd St.

314-881-2105

cielostlouis.com

Brunch Sun. 10.30 a.m. - 2.30 p.m.

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Good

Smoking: No

Brunch: $48 adults, $25 children 5-12. Higher on holidays.

 

twelfth period or not another twelfth night

I’ve finally decided that Shakespeare is like George Gershwin. You can do all kinds of riffs and jamming on his work and the results are still distinctively Of The Artist, as well as always interesting and nearly always worthwhile.

Proof of that can be found at the Centene Center, where ERA, Equally Represented Arts, is presenting twelfth period or not another twelfth night. It’s the late 1990’s and we’re in high school. Thankfully, this is not the high school years some of us look back on with vague nausea and a pounding heart. No, this is closer to the high school experience we wish we had. No exams, no trips to the principal’s office, just hanging around with the popular kids and the interesting ones, going from class to class and joking. Oh, the joking.

It’s the basic Twelfth Night story, with character names changed a little. Mal Olio? Sebastian Horowitz? Why not? The dialogue is Shakespeare interspersed with lines which the program credits to various sources from Buffy the Vampire Slayer to American Beauty. It’s way too fun, clearly not taking much of anything seriously.

And yet this cast declaiming Shakespeare isn’t really declaiming it. They speak the speech as though they were, well, teenagers. They understand what all this is about and it sounds like actual conversation, rollicking and denouncing and complaining. If they’re not actually having a good time, you could have fooled me – and most of the other folks at the opening, I suspect. Between the concept, the dialogue and the performance itself, this works for Shakespeare buffs as well as anyone who is looking for something lighthearted and quite different but doesn’t know much about our bud the Bard.

Good work from all the cast, especially the detatched Erin Renee Roberts as Olivia and Francesca Ferrari as plotting Maria. It’s hard to resist Andrew Kuhlman as Toby Belch, especially when he’s trying to persuade folks to cut class. Andrew Aguecheck (Tyson Cole)’s passion for Olivia, so sadly unrequieted is stemmed when his pal Sebastian is actually Amanda Wales, who’s – oh, never mind. Go see it and you can figure things out.

Katy Keating also did the dramaturgy for the show, and Gabe Taylor directed, did sound and production design. There’s a lot of walking in this show, which uses a great deal of the four-story Centene Building and it’s handicapped accessible only to a degree.

A wild night that’s worth the effort.

 

twelfth period or not another twelfth night

through may 6

Equally Represented Arts

eratheatre.org

Centene Center for the Arts

3547 Olive St.

tickets

Nathaniel Reed Bakery

Whether through naivete or determined optimism, I never quite believed that the classic St. Louis inquiry of “Where’d you go to high school?” was a sly social stratification. Perhaps it’s the small town girl in me, wherein that question often leads to “Did you know Katie Whiffenpoof? She used to date my brother,” or “Was McGonigle still teaching when you were there?” It’s an attempt to establish commonality.

My late husband, the Brooklyn kid, never quite got this. Once, having dinner in a restaurant, we were politely approached by another diner who recognized us. A little conversation, during which he said our most recent book was in his glove compartment. Would we sign it, please? When Joe took out his pen, he asked the gentleman’s name. He gave the name – he’d earlier said he lived in Farmington – and I put two and two together. “Were you,” I asked, “an Eagle Scout?” Yes, he acknowledged, he had been. “Your father delivered my first child,” I said.

All this is by way of acknowledging that Nathaniel Reid (who is not the gentleman with the book) is a Farmington guy, from the county where I was raised, although to the best of my knowledge we have no other ties. He’s a graduate of Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, and worked his way back home, most recently at the Ritz-Carlton in Clayton. Now he’s opened a bakery-cafe in Kirkwood, doing lots of to-go business and offering limited seating at a counter.

As well as the pastries, there are some sandwiches on the housemade breads as well as quiche. Some of us remember a zillion years ago when quiche became a Thing. Shortly thereafter America was cursed with a book called Real Men Don’t Eat Quiche, and suddenly it was as though quiche had been given a long first name that was irreversibly linked with it. Nonsense, I say. People rave over chicken pie, why not allow the pleasure of egg pie? Reid’s quiche is a fine thing, hearty and satisfying. The custard itself is tender, there’s plenty of it and the crust remains crisp because the turnover rate is obviously high. This particular one was the classic Lorraine, with pieces of ham and I wonder if perhaps a bit of onion juice had been added, so tasty was the egg component. Chicken salad lolled alluringly on a very crisp croissant, the chicken nicely chunky, a little celery here and there, but not too much, mostly very classic.

It would be sheer insanity to pass on having dessert, of course. And it’s easy to get it to go, but succumb one must, at least for a croissant to take with one’s afternoon tea, untraditional but highly encouraged. I’ve had several goodies from that case, from macarons to almond croissants to that golden passionfruit pastry whose name eludes me. But I always come back to the kouign amann, layers of croissant-like dough tucked into muffin cups that have been buttered and generously sugared so that the exterior is crunchy and the interior tender and rich. And if that isn’t enough, there are jars of housemade jams and goodies of chocolate, like the Easter eggs they were selling.

Order and pay at the counter, grab a seat, and make sure you observe as people come in for the first time.

 

Nathaniel Reid Bakery

11234 Manchester Rd., Kirkwood

314-858 -1019

chefnathanielreid.com/

Just One Bite: Only This Week at Elaia

Lots of good things to eat at the 38 Eats promotion of St. Louis restaurants during this Shakespeare marathon weekend, and I sampled three Wednesday afternoon. A particular salute to the porchetta Ben Grupe is offering at Elaia. It’s an example of just how a pork tenderloin can be roasted past pinkness and still keep its moisture, with lovely notes of lemon and fennel and coriander, among other things. A bonus is the crispy skin that ended up being nibbled with my fingers!  But maybe more exciting is the vegetable base underneath, lentils seasoned with all kinds of wonderful things that make me think of North Africa – the dish is in tribute to Julius Caesar, and we all know how Caesar was wandering around in northern Africa, with a few stops for Cleopatra – and mixed greens. It’s a superb combination. This weekend only, but I hope it will return to the menu eventually.

 

Elaia

1634 Tower Grove Avenue

314-932-1088

elaiastl.com/

38 Eats

It's getting into high season for St. Louis entertainment. Lots of great things are coming up, and this weekend is Shake 38, the marathon celebration of Shakespeare and his works, an operation of Shakespeare Festival St. Louis. They must be particularly wise folks because this year they're including food in the festival. Lots of participating restaurants are offering specials themed, sometimes very loosely, to the works of our old pal Will. You can read more about it here, and find a link to the menus.  Take a look at the various theatrical activities, too, from professional to amateur, in all kinds of interesting locations. 

August: Osage County

Probably no one worries about whether a play is a comedy or a drama except critics and people who teach theatre. For the average person, the question is, is it funny or not? Having not so long ago gone through the St. Louis Theatre Clrcle Awards annual process of nominating and voting, wherein we – among other things – have to decide on the comedy/drama question, I found myself pondering that as I watched the first act of Tracy Letts’ August: Osage County at St. Louis Actors’ Studio. Is it a drama or a comedy?

Letts would probably be the first to say he’s not a guy who writes about pies in the face and happy families uttering epigrams. Nope. Dysfunction R Us is his franchise, and it’s not subtle. But that turns out to actually be part of the fun. It’s an Oklahoma family of three daughters. Drinking Dad (Larry Dell) and pill-popping mom (Kari Ely) battle more or less incessantly. It probably was like that for years. One daughter (Emily Baker) still lives at home, the eldest sister (Meghan Baker) has married and moved away, and the third sister (Rachel Fenton) pretty much never comes home from Miami.

Dad’s just hired a housekeeper (Wendy Renee Farmer), and pretty soon he doesn’t come home. He’s done this before, but this is longer than usual, so mom calls in the girls. They arrive with a husband (David Wassilak), a daughter (Bridgette Bassa) and, from the Miami branch, a fiancee (Drew Battles). Mom’s nasty enough with Dad and the daughter (Emily Baker) that lives nearby, but when the crew pulls in, she goes into full battle mode. Even her younger sister (Kim Furlow) and the sister’s long-suffering husband (William Roth) fall into the family’s default style of sniping, lying, manipulating and generally making everyone’s life chaotic.

Letts’ writing is terrific. His characters are nasty, funny and frequently insightful. So bear with what sounds like it could be an unpleasant evening and steer straight into the tornado. It’s too fascinating not to. There’s a tour de force performance from Ely, creating a mother who’s so wild that “neurotic” would be a considerable upgrade. Meghan Baker’s daughter shows a slow, carefully wrought falling apart as the play progresses and she copes with her mother as well as her own family’s problems. The quiet middle sister, Emily Baker who engages daily in battles with her mother in order to protect her privacy, barely smolders but hints of steam emerge in her performance before erupting.

Good work, too from Bassa as the 14-year-old and Battles as her aunt’s secretly slimy fiance. Furlow lets fly her character in a memorable scene that changes the game from comic relief. Pretty much every one indulges in (pick two or more) smoking, drinking, cursing, adulterizing, envy, greed or gluttony, thanks to some apple pie.

Wayne Salomon’s direction never lets the audience rest, once the steam builds up. The play has two intermissions, pretty logical considering the pacing here, to give the audience a chance to recover. Great fun with the set from Patrick Huber, three levels, and a lot of spots for to-and-fro-ing, with lighting from Dalton Robinson’s design helping the flow of the story.

 

August: Osage County

through April 30

St. Louis Actors’ Studio

Gaslight Theater

360 N. Boyle

314-458-2978

stlas.org

Dancing at Lughnasa

Dancing at Lughnasa is a memory play, much like St. Louis’ own The Glass Menagerie. Mustard Seed Theatre has put together an ensemble for Brian Friel’s 1990 play that enlivens an already sparkling script.

It’s a family drama, seen in the rear view mirror of Michael Evans (Jim Butz), relating the story of his mother and her five siblings. Set in their home in rural Ireland in August of 1936, they struggle to get along, although the poverty is just a way of life. Two of the siblings managed to get out, at least for a while. Jack (Gary Glasgow) became a priest and went to Uganda to work with lepers many years ago, and Kate (Amy Loui), the eldest and primary breadwinner, went to college and returned to teach in the nearby village. Jack, in failing health, has been sent home from Africa.

The others are Maggie (Kelly Weber), who runs the house and the small farmstead, Agnes (Leslie Wobbe), the quietest one who knits gloves to sell in the village shops, Rose (Michelle Hand), who we gradually realize is what we’d now call developmentally delayed, and Chris (Jennifer Theby Quinn), the youngest and Michael’s mother.

Michael’s father (Richard Strelinger) was the classic traveling man, and while the women delight in the child, the family’s fall from grace is never gone from the mind of the upright probity of Kate. The household’s near-extravagant purchase of a radio – one suspects it was less expensive because it works so sporadically – gives them music and causes spontaneous outbreaks of dancing, some so wild that they seem primal.

The back-and-forth balance between the primal and society’s strict mores is the pivot of the story. The little boy they love was born out of wedlock, a “love child” in Father Jack’s phrase when he discovers the fact. And Jack doesn’t seem too upset about that, explaining that phrase is what they’re called in Uganda and they’re considered a good thing for a household. It may be their first clue that Jack’s gone native. His memory is a tad spotty, he’s spoken Swahili almost exclusively while he’s been gone, and he revels in tales of native ceremonies. Most significantly, those stories are in the first person plural. “We” did this, “we” always do that. Pagan, we can see Kate thinking.

Amy Loui’s grim jaw is Katharine Hepburn-like, with her posture and her tightly wrapped hair. Her occasional raptures of delight often scud to an abrupt end as her conscience reawakens. Weber’s Maggie is rowdy and rapturous, a real earth mother, and a contrast to the tightly controlled Agnes, whom Wobbe gives mystery to. Does she have a secret longing for Chris’ boyfriend, the ebullient Welshman Gerry? Are there more secrets from Hand’s Rose? Ebullient and easily distracted early on, she suddenly falls quiet, almost stunned, Hand doing a subtle job with a complicated character.

Having had the child, Quinn’s Chris has trudged on with her life, but there’s no sunshine ahead. Gerry reappears, one of his extremely occasional visits and she suddenly becomes an adolescent again, hesitant and fearful and excited and blooming. Strelinger plays Gerry over the top, which is about right, rather reminiscent of Professor Harold Hill. The two of them warm the stage when they dance. Butz’ Michael pays full respect to the rich Friel dialogue. Even when he’s not speaking, he’s a ghost watching his past.

This is fine ensemble work – one’s eyes fly, watching their faces, their body language, no matter who’s speaking. Gary Barker’s direction verges on choreography. The set, fairly elaborate for Mustard Seed, is from Kyra Bishop, the backdrop of Irish fields from Cameron Tesson. Michael Sullivan’s lighting slides smoothly and carefully through lots of changes. Zoe Sullivan’s sound, including what comes out of the cranky radio, adds a great deal. I particularly enjoyed the costumes, not handsome but multi-layered assemblages including sweater-upon-sweater, none of which look like Aran fishermen’s knits.

The only thing lacking was some difficulty understanding occasional lines – whether it was because they were aimed upstage or the dialect was too thick, I’m not sure. That’s easily remedied, and distracts pretty minimally from a satisfying show.

 

Dancing at Lughnasa

through April 30

Mustard Seed Theatre

Fontbonne University

6800 Wydown Blvd (enter off Big Bend)

314-719-8060

mustardseedtheatre.com

Cod Squad: Week 5

North County is mostly terra incognita to me. So when I set off to find the Knights of Columbus #2951 in Florissant, it was map time. Actually, it wasn’t hard to get to, but as I turned west onto St. Francois Street I began to wonder if this two-block stretch that dead-ended was correct.

Never mind that, I thought to myself as a steeple and church rose ahead, handsome and with patterned roof tiles that reminded me of Burgundy. It’s the historic Shrine of St. Ferdinand; the K of C building is to the left as you come on the grounds. The architecture of the church, rectory and convent are bonuses on this visit.

So is the menu at the fish fry, which has some options not often seen locally. That’s what drew me. The hall has two floors, the lower, which is where the kitchen and food line are, and another upstairs room that’s used for even more seating, and is a little quieter. The hubub of the kitchen was supplanted by someone playing the guitar in one corner. Order at the tray line overlooking the kitchen, receive your food, and pay for what’s on your tray. Beverages come from the bar on the opposite wall.

If you look at the menu, you can see it’s a fairly complicated one as these go. And the actual length of the tray line is fairly short. There wasn’t a long line waiting, but for those of us wanting to try multiple fish dishes, it got complicated, and things were a little discombobulated. The result was that a couple of things I’d hoped to try never got on the tray.

Nevertheless, this differentness makes the trek to Florissant worthwhile. Clam chowder didn’t seem to be the standard white-as-milk stuff – it was creamy rather than the tomato Manhattan style or the clear version found in Rhode Island and North Carolina, but it was generously flavored with celery and onion and what I suspect was thyme. The small serving is a cup – and that turns out to be a mug into which it’s ladled. Home-style, indeed.

The Cajun Crunch Tilapia was crunchy, the thin fillets making that pretty easy, and it was hit with some Cajun seasoning, but it was very light on any pepper, so safe enough for the hesitant eater. It’s nice to see salmon patties on a menu like this, certainly very retro, but having many virtues, including easy to eat and avoiding the question “How done is that piece of baked salmon?” that still concerns some folks. Crisp around the edges, not a patty of fish-flavored bread crumbs, this was very good. I could have happily eaten a double-decker sandwich of these fellows.

The big surprise here was the fish taco. Flour tortilla, a generous serving of fish, and a real pico de gallo, not just taco sauce from a jar, Very satisfying, and it by itself would be worth a return visit. The shrimp po’ boy was less successful, just because it lacked the pizzazz of the taco. Three fried shrimp on about four inches of French bread with lettuce, tomato and a little onion needed a little something more, perhaps what New Orleans natives refer to as “mynez” (mayonnaise). Not a terrible sandwich, just unremarkable.

Yes, sides, including hush puppies, and desserts like big cupcakes and pies. But it’s the salmon patties and the tacos that lure. That, and the architecture across the parking lot. Yes, they’re working on Good Friday. It appears they also do similar events throughout the year.

 

Knights of Columbus #2951

50 St. Francois St., Florissant

314-837-6645

Website

3.30 p.m. - 7 p.m.

 

Brunch: 12 West

A road trip? Yes, please. En route to any number of places, Ste. Genevieve's historic sites or the Ste. Genevieve County wineries, or across to Elephant Rocks State Park or down to the whitewater at Silver Mines, 12 North in Farmington would work well. You can read about their brunch here. No guarantees as to whether there's space available on Easter Sunday, but after that, you're apt to find a spot. 

Sweeney Todd

This has turned out to be a surprisingly lovely spring, at least right now, trees starting to green as the sunlight slants through them, redbud and dogwood blooming simultaneously, which doesn’t always happen. Then, for contrast, there’s what’s inside Tower Grove Abbey these days.

Sweeney Todd, brought to us by Stray Dog Theatre, is a dark, disturbing story, told with respect if not glamour. It’s dusty, bloody, messy, another manifestation of Dickensian London. From the first note, the hair almost stands up on the back of one’s neck from the reminder of how musically serious and dramatic the show is. And SDT gives the show its full due.

Todd, who’s returned from prison, seeks revenge from the judge who sent him off because he lusted after Todd’s wife. Mrs. Lovett, a pie shop proprietor and Todd’s landlady who has no idea who Todd really is, knows the story. She says the wife is dead and the judge has adopted Todd’s daughter as his ward. As long as Todd’s after the judge, he thinks he might as well go for his beadle, here a sort of constable rather than a church official. He’s determined – oh, is he determined. And since he’s a barber, he has the method and the means as well as the motive. He becomes the demon barber of Fleet Street.

The barber is Jonathan Hey. Hey’s Todd is more menacing than totally mad, a nearly-always restrained performance, particularly notable for the sort of absolute control that Todd exhibits during his most extreme behavior. His face would make a neurosurgeon at work look like Chico Marx. Lavonne Byers plays Mrs. Lovett broadly, with lots of physical comedy as a contrast to Todd’s character, and it works well. Good work, too, from Gerry Love as the judge and young Connor Johnson as Tobias, the orphan that ends up working for Mrs. Lovett. Overall, in fact, it’s an excellent ensemble, sounding absolutely wonderful and moving through the house, as SDT productions often do, with panache.

The gory-ness of this show is considerably less than some I’ve seen, and the barber chair that’s a focus of more elaborate productions is here a Queen Anne style armchair that just turns around. Rob Lippert’s set makes good use of the height of this stage. Ryan Moore’s costumes feel suitably dusty, with mostly very subdued colors and stains here and there. The band, which is not visible, is eight members, including a cello and French horn, the size of said group making the point that this show, like all Sondheim, is about the music (and that includes his great lyrics). Please pay particular attention to the staging of the second act’s opening number of “God, That’s Good” - the movement, the faces of the ensemble, and rhymes like “coriander” and “makes the gravy grander”. Irresistible. Justin Been directs the show and keeps things moving at a swell clip.

Please note that tickets are in demand for this show, and some performances are already sold out, so move with alacrity. Also, SDT’s audience arrives early, easily taking the trophy in that department among local theatres. (They also don’t do walking ovations, and thank you very much for that!) Be aware; this may create some logistical problems for a few people.

Sweeney Todd

through April 22

Stray Dog Theatre

Tower Grove Abbey

2336 Tennessee

314-865-1005

www.straydogtheatre.org

Cod Squad: Week 5

The Cod Squad headed south, almost to the Meramec River, in fact, to St. Francis of Assisi in Oakville. (Am I the only one old enough to remember this area before it had an actual name?) Sure enough, in the school gym, on the south side of the building. There are two parking lots, one north and one south; if you’re meeting someone (ahem!), make sure you specify which. And don’t forget the ticket you get when you pay in the hall leading to the cafeteria.

Thinking that I might be becoming monotonous with my paeans to jack salmon, I had a couple of catfish fillets. Nice and crunchy, and very mild fish. My pal tried the fish tacos, flour tortillas with, in her case, baked cod fillets, which remained moist. Of the four standard sides, the spaghetti was the best I’ve had this season, from simple attributes like not watery to more complex ones like a little more interesting sauce. And it wasn’t cooked until it was disintegrating. Green beans also had more seasoning than just the juice from the can, but macaroni and cheese was a snoozer, and the coleslaw was a little too bland. Hush puppies were good, though. And then there were the potato chips. They’re also available as a side, and I almost didn’t get an extra order of them. A close call, but we were glad we did. They’re housemade, slightly thicker than average, crunchy-crisp, and even though they weren’t hot out of the fryer, they weren’t grease-laden. Surprisingly tasty and a don’t miss.

Desserts are paid for separately, in the corner where they’re laid out. All are very budget-friendly, ranging from 25 to 50 cents, the former for cupcakes. Most seem homemade, although we spied a stack of those little round commercial pies. A devilsfood cake with a white creamy icing was good, probably from a mix, but I might succumb to cake mix, too, if I had to bake a couple of cakes every Thursday or Friday for my contribution.

Iced tea, coffee and water are included with the dinner tab, and there’s beer for sale. All meals, including two sides and hushpuppies, are $9.

 

St. Francis of Assisi

4550 Telegraph Rd.

314-487-5736

http://sfastl.org/

April 7 and 14 yet to come

4 p.m. - 7 p.m.

Ignite! The Disappearing Man

This is very short notice for you, the reader, I know. For the first time, the Rep’s Ignite! Series is repeating a show. This series of play readings is mostly for people who are dedicated theatre buffs, because it’s no sets, no lights, just actors, chairs, and scripts. The first show of the three in the 2017 series is The Disappearing Man, what they refer to as a folk opera. I saw it last night, Wednesday, April 5, and while “folk opera” may be technically correct, don’t let the phrase put you off. Think of it as a musical.

These shows are scripts that are in development, so the audience has a chance to see a show in its infancy. (In this case, they’ve brought in a piano and a guitar to utilize the score.) After the show, Seth Gordon, the associate artistic director of the Rep, asks the audience a few specific questions in order to get feedback.

The second performance will be tonight, Thursday, April 6, at 7:30 p.m. at UMSL at Grand Center on Olive.

I think Disappearing Man has great potential. It’s intriguing, the music is good, the acting, even though the performers are working from scripts, is good, and it’s hard to ignore the tingly feeling that can tell you something big may be coming as it matures. There are seats left, and for $10, it’s a better investment than a movie ticket. Besides, if it ends up being staged at the Rep, you can say you knew it when.

A very worthwhile investment of time and a tenner.

 

The Disappearing Man

Ignite! 2017

April 6, 2017, 7:30 p.m.

UMSL at Grand Center

Ignite! website

Sex with Strangers

Sex with Strangers has just opened. It’s from Rebels and Misfits Productions, opening their second season with a series they’re calling “An Intimate Theatre Project”. And it is intimate, certainly. It’s in a former private home that now seems to have been turned into an event space.

The two-person play began with work at the excellent Steppenwolf company in Chicago. It’s by Laura Eason. It opens at what seems to be a bed and breakfast that’s used as a writers’ retreat, during a blizzard-y night in Michigan. (Myself, I wouldn’t have been hanging out reading in the living room wearing a silky robe and a matching chemise on a night like this, but YMMV, you know?) Comes a-rapping at the door another guest, running late. The proprietor isn’t around, so Olivia (Kelly Hummert) of the silky robe lets him in.

He’s Ethan (Christopher Tipp). It turns out Olivia is a writer, a novelist, and Ethan’s a writer, too. He’s eye candy, younger than Olivia, and ranges from self-assured to cocky. She teaches, the first novel had mixed reviews and she’s hesitant about her next one. But he says he not only recognizes her name, he knows her work and thinks it’s wonderful. In fact, they have a mutual acquaintance.

Is this a seduction? A romance? A con game? There’s definitely sex, although for those who fret about such things, there’s no full nudity. Tipp’s performance leaves us wondering for almost the entire play, in particular, as to whether he’s the real turtle soup or merely the mock. Hummert, who’s also the artistic director of Rebels and Misfits, lets go of herself sooner than her opposite does, but seems more into the writing than into the romance.

The play is directed by Michelle Bossy. While the performances themselves are very workable, the script’s first act drags to a fair degree. The concept of being very near the actors who work in the room rather than on a stage is a good one – think The Rooming House Plays at last year’s Tennessee Williams Festival – but the logistics can be tricky in terms of closeness. And how respectful is it to end the play the same way scene changes are handled – music and then lights up? The audience is left puzzling with nary a hint from the staff (who are in plain sight) that it’s over, and no curtain calls for the actors. (A quizzical look and spread hands to a staff member at that point was ignored.)

The venue is right next to the largish parking lot on McPherson east of Euclid. Not wheelchair accessible, and wooden folding chairs, which are blessedly quiet, but some people may want to bring along a cushion.

 

Sex with Strangers

Rebels and Misfits Productions

through April 15

4632 McPherson

anintimatetheatreproject.com/