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November 2009
The movie theater wants to kill you
We all have our guilty pleasures, whether it’s “The Real Housewives,” Adam Lambert’s new album, the “Twilight” series of novels/movies. But none of those can kill you (at least not quickly).
As it turns out, mine can. Maybe not immediately, but it doesn’t look like it would take long.
I love movie popcorn and sodas. I can’t stay away no matter how hard I try (granted, I don’t try very hard). Even if I’m at an 11 a.m. press screening, I still need my fix. Usually, I end up in massive pain later in the evening and promise never to do it again. Until the next time. When I do.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the massive portions and artificial butter (I’m not looking at you Alamo Drafthouse) is not health food. But the first study in 15 years by advocacy group Center for Science in the Public Interest proves that digging on popcorn and soda at the movies not only is bad for you, it may be one of the worst things imaginable. (Not to mention the hit on your wallet is almost as bad as the hit to your heart.)
The Los Angeles Times reports today that, “A medium-sized popcorn and medium soda at the nation’s largest movie chain pack the nutritional equivalent of three Quarter Pounders topped with 12 pats of butter, according to a report released today by the advocacy group Center for Science in the Public Interest.”
Matthew, we have a problem.
From the LATIMES.com story:
The group’s second look at movie theater concessions — the last was 15 years ago — found little had changed in a decade and a half, despite theaters’ attempts to reformulate. CSPI bought multiple servings of popcorn from the three largest movie chains, Regal Entertainment Group, AMC and Cinemark, and had them analyzed in an independent lab. It found that a Regal medium popcorn — 20 cups — contains 1,200 calories, 60 grams of saturated fat, and 980 milligrams of sodium. That’s without the buttery topping that can be drizzled — or poured — on the popcorn, which adds another 200 calories and 3 grams of saturated fat per 1.5 tablespoons. An AMC medium popcorn did better because of its smaller size — nine cups — at 590 calories and 33 grams of saturated fat, and a 14-cup Cinemark medium was 760 calories and just 3 grams of saturated fat (in both cases, before adding buttery topping). One problem is that Regal and AMC, the two largest chains, pop their popcorn in coconut oil, which is about 90% saturated fat, noted Jayne Hurley, senior nutritionist at Washington-based CSPI. Cinemark, the third-largest chain, now pops its corn in canola oil, which explains its much lower saturated fat levels. “Cinemark gets a thumbs-up for switching,” Hurley said. In two positive steps, trans fatty acids were not found in the samples, Hurley added, and theaters have stopped using hydrogenated oils in the butter-flavored toppings.
Looks like I will be sneaking in nuts and bottled water from here on out. At least, that’s the plan for now.
Read the full piece here.
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Movie review: ‘The Messenger’ (Grade: A)
You don’t need to witness battles on the screen to understand the horrors and complexities of war, as evidenced by screenwriter Oren Moverman’s incredible directorial debut, “The Messenger.”
Will Montgomery (Ben Foster) has returned from the war in Iraq a decorated hero, but, with multiple injuries, he must serve out the final three months of his tour stateside. Relegated to the bleak and thankless work of casualty notification, Montgomery is charged with visiting the homes of those who have lost a family member. His stern commanding officer and companion on the ominous visits, Tony Stone (Woody Harrelson), explains to the disciplined but conflicted soldier that his new job is about “character” and one that must be done “before you can understand it.”
Neither of the men has the benefit of training in grief counseling and their job is simply to inform, not to engage the victims’ families with any level of sympathy.
Saddened by the loss of the girlfriend he left behind to go serve his country, and haunted by the vivid images of war, Montgomery has only two companions in his new life in rural New Jersey: a pager that goes off at all hours to alert him to his latest assignment and Stone, whom he views with a mixture of fear, incredulity and disdain. Throughout the movie, the pager’s piercing beep acts as a sword of Damocles, an audible device that leaves the audience on the same edge as the soldier.
The camera trails Montgomery and Stone as they enter each residence to notify families of their tragic loss, a view that offers the audience the soldiers’ perspective on this horrible journey of endurance and duty. Stone insists that the men speak only to the next of kin (NOK, as he regimentally describes them), as they gut-wrenchingly deliver news that will forever change the lives of the people they visit. Feeling the pull of empathy, Montgomery struggles with the rote and bloodless delivery of a message that carries the weight of death.
As he battles to reconcile his humanity with the emotional detachment required of the job — a function that Stone has assimilated so deeply that he seems to have no connection with his fellow man — Montgomery finds a kindred spirit in Olivia Pitterson (Samantha Morton), a grieving military widow and mother of one who is trying to come to terms with the death of her husband, a man whose soul she felt had already been lost to the brutality of life at war. Lodged somewhere between the world of a soldier and that of a civilian, Montgomery enters an awkward courtship with Pitterson that is an odd blend of infatuation and desperation.
The centerpiece of the film is the relationship between Stone and Montgomery, both of whom are trying to understand their place in a world of which they do not feel a part. Stone’s stoic persona is belied by a manic attitude toward women and a self-destructive tendency that has him sitting precariously on the edge of the wagon. Montgomery simply wants to feel again. As the cold relationship between commanding officer and his charge takes on fraternal warmth, both men make strides toward a deeper self-discovery and reconciliation of their part in war.
The script, co-written by Alessandro Camon, offers a loose framework for a movie that features amazing, award-worthy performances. Harrelson, who has a history of playing crazed characters, hits the perfect note in a role that displays his ability to be wildly entertaining and reflective at the same time. Foster (who has shown chops in supporting roles in “3:10 to Yuma” and “Six Feet Under”) meanwhile is simply stunning, as powerful when silent as he is when speaking.
Credit goes to Moverman for allowing the movie to unfold organically with lengthy scenes that let the open wounds of its characters breathe, as they attempt to slowly repair themselves. While its subject manner is dark and discomfiting, the movie has a robust humor, and hopefulness that glows with humanity and grace.
Moverman and his cast and crew have created a stirring masterpiece that allows audiences to inhabit a side of war we almost never see, and reveals the endurance of the human spirit and our need to find solace, love and comfort in our fellow humans even when we feel most vulnerable and conflicted.
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Movie review: ‘The Blind Side’ (Grade: C)
As “The Blind Side” opens, video of one of the most gruesome hits in NFL history rolls. For anyone with a passing interest in football, the scene of the maniacal Lawrence Taylor snapping quarterback Joe Theismann’s leg like a twig is hauntingly familiar. One that will make you cover your eyes in the theater.
But the most jarring thing about the opening of the movie is not the visuals, but the audio. Narrating the play-by-play and the backstory of the injury’s impact on the way football would be played in the future is the syrupy Southern female voice of Sandra Bullock’s Leigh Anne Tuohy.
Despite the classic NFL footage, there should be no mistake, however, that this movie is about the person telling the story, not the game itself. (Indeed, the paucity of actual gridiron action makes it difficult to classify this as a sports movie.)
Based on Michael Lewis’ investigative journalism that created the nonfiction book of the same name, “The Blind Side” tells the story of the Tuohy family and the young man they saved from abject poverty and the perilous streets of West Memphis.
Massive African American teenager Michael Oher (Quinton Aaron) has spent his adolescence bouncing around friends’ houses, an orphan whose crackhead mother, while still living, has long since lost the ability to raise her son. He is symbolic of the failure of the Memphis public school system and seems to have run out of chances.
The last person in his corner seems to be an older gentleman who has taken an interest in saving the child and getting him enrolled along with his son in the Wingate Christian School. The overeager football coach at the private institution appeals to the Christian charity of the school’s administrators, persuading them to accept on probationary terms the kid with an IQ of 80 known as “Big Mike.”
But Mike’s salvation does not come simply from enrollment. A foreigner in the pristine world of his new school, Mike is still homeless, adrift and left with seemingly one pair of raggedy shorts and a shirt. His new classmates are almost as scared of the new mute beast in their school as he is of them.
All of that changes on a wet, winter evening when Leigh Anne and husband Sean Tuohy (an effective and subtle Tim McGraw), whose two children attend Wingate, spot Big Mike wandering the streets and decide to pick him up and take him home.
Although she has trouble ascertaining the history of Mike, the iron-willed Leigh Anne is determined to create a brighter future for the young man. Thus begins the amazing transformation of Big Mike from gentle giant to a warmly accepted member of the Tuohy family.
In the face of latent racism from her country-club friends, and with the support of her deferential and kindly husband, Leigh Anne not only helps Mike accept the love of his new family, but also teaches him how to play football, in a scene that borders on the ridiculous. Despite the accuracy of much of the story, the film still suffers from a saccharine overdose and unnecessary touches meant to lend credibility. Young actor Jae Head, who plays S.J. Tuohy, mugs with an over-the-top performance as Big Mike’s adopted little brother and best friend. And the parade of college coaches who play themselves demonstrated why these men work on the sidelines and not on movie sets. Bullock, on the other hand, plays the nouveau riche take-no-guff matriarch with equal parts toughness and sensitivity that represents a refreshing departure from some of her past rom-com fare.
Much of the feel-good film would be impossible to digest, its story seemingly cobbled from a pile of clichés, if it weren’t for the veracity of its narrative. As Lewis’ book explains, Oher suffered from extreme learning difficulties that left him years behind his peers in a developmental sense. Despite the brutal surroundings of his childhood, Oher was not filled with a rage or ferocity. Instead, he became a prisoner trapped in his own body, his heart and mind seemingly inscrutable even to himself. The love, support and encouragement he received from his adoptive family taught him confidence and gave him purpose that led him to a life in the highest realm of football. (Oher was eventually drafted by the Baltimore Ravens in the first round of the NFL draft.)
In the movie as in real life, it seems impossible to penetrate Mike’s thoughts, leaving him an enigmatic cipher. Writer-director John Lee Hancock (“The Rookie”) instead chooses to tell his story solely through the eyes of the loving but self-righteous Leigh Anne, who, in an act of false humility at the end of the film, asks if she is in fact “a good person.” By this time, it seems the answer is obvious, and the question lends her and the film more an air of self-satisfaction than altruism.
Watch the trailer for “The Blind Side” here.
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Live review: The Avett Brothers at “Austin City Limits” taping
Yes, I am late to the party, yet again. Although I have heard The Avett Brothers 2009 release “I and Love and You” a few times, amazingly I’m not very well versed in the North Carolina trio (and sometimes quartet). Amazing in the sense that they seem like a band perfectly suited for my taste - lyrically rich with mostly acoustic instrumentation and a rootsy vibe.
Though the band has made stops in our town as both a supporting act and buzzed-about festival attendee (SXSW & ACL), I had yet to see what is regarded as one of the most energetic live acts on the road. I remedied that with a visit to the KLRU studios to see the band tape a performance for “Austin City Limits” on Monday night.
After seeing varied and disparate acts in recent years, it felt rather authentic to see a countryish act take the “ACL” stage for the final show of the 35th season, which will air on Jan. 23, 2010. Dressed in jeans, boots and bandanas (whether in pocket or on head), the guys seemed to represent well the ethos of the legendary TV show.
The first thing I was struck by was the power of Scott Avett’s voice. For such a slight man, he packs a booming two-by-four wallop of a voice. His voice is enhanced by his brother Seth’s more tender sound, and the duo have created a harmony that bespeaks the years they’ve spent living and singing together.
As the band launched into “Laundry Room,” from “I and Love and You,” it was obvious that their reputation for energetic and excitable shows is well earned. The entire quarter — Scott, brother Seth Avett, bassist Bob Crawford (looking more than a little like Salvatore from “Mad Men”) and cellist Joe Kwan - bounced up and down in their boots and went after their respective instruments with fury. Throughout the show I wondered if the stage would give way under the boots that acted as an extra instrument all night.
While the band of brothers and would-be brothers pogo’d around the stage, the vibe from the crowd did not exactly match the guys’ vigor. In the case of “Go to Sleep” and several other songs, it seemed the fellas were hoping to inspire a little bit of audience participation that never quite happened.
A few audience members did get in on the act in all of the wrong ways, shouting out song requests, imploring Scott to introduce the band and making efforts to engage the North Carolinians in more stage banter. To that last point, Seth acknowledged that the band still had not refined the banter part of their act, which Scott followed by saying they had also not refined other parts of their act.
He was kidding, of course. But the guys did seem to be a bit nervous. Understandable for the two brothers who say they grew up adoring the show that they praised endlessly Monday night.
All of which is not to say the nerves got the best of the brothers and their other string men. Rotating between instruments and belting out introspective and poetic lyrics as they played (and a couple of time, replayed) 17 songs spanning six of their albums over the last six years, the brothers brought a fierce energy to the stage that, along with their step-back-from-the-mic wails and yawps, gave a nod to their history as a rock band. There might be tighter bands (and I still think the brothers could benefit from a more fully fleshed out band, giving them a more textured sound) that have passed through the hallowed studio, but few have matched the earnestness, energy and humility of the Avett Brothers.
The Avett Brothers
Setlist for “Austin City Limits” taping
1. “Laundry Room”
2. “Go to Sleep”
3. “And it Spread”
4. “Salina”
5. “I and Love and You”
6. “Paranoia in B Flat Major”
7. “January Wedding”
8. “Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise”
9. “Murder in the City”
10. “Die Die Die”
11. “Salvation Song”
12. “When I Drink”
13. “Slight Figure of Speech”
14. “Please Pardon Yourself”
15. “The Perfect Space”
16. “Colorshow”
E: “Talk on Indolence”
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Ken Ober dies
A news bit that makes me feel rather old, former MTV Veejay Ken Ober has died at the age of 52, according to the NYTIMES.com. In 1987, the sharp-witted comedian became the host of MTV’s “Remote Control,” the “network’s first original series to focus on non-musical content.”
From the Arts Beat blog:
Lee Kernis, a manager at Brillstein Entertainment Partners who represented Mr. Ober for more than 20 years, said that Mr. Ober was found dead on Sunday. He said that Mr. Ober was last heard from on Saturday night, when he spoke to a friend and complained of a headache and flu-like symptoms. Mr. Ober told the friend that he was going to take something and would see a doctor as soon as possible. Mr. Ober, who grew up in Boston idolizing game show hosts like Bob Barker and Bob Eubanks, went on to host four game shows of his own, including a revived version of “Make Me Laugh” in 1997. But his breakthrough came a decade earlier when Mr. Ober, a contestant on the televised talent show “Star Search,” became the host of the MTV series “Remote Control” in 1987.
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You may not know about The Carillon, but you should
Statesman restaurant critic Mike Sutter recently did a fabulous review of The Carillon (which you can read here), but I wanted to pile on some of my own praise.
If you aren’t familiar with the Josh Watkins-helmed restaurant in the AT&T Executive Education and Conference Center on the University of Texas campus (that’s a mouthful), you are probably not alone. Until Sutter and I went there last month, I had only a foggy idea of the place, as we had written about it a year ago or so when it opened.
Located on University Avenue, the street that runs into the UT Tower from the south, The Carillon sits on the ground floor and would likely go unnoticed if you weren’t looking for it. The dining area of the restaurant is massive, with stone arches inscribed with philosophical quotes framing the lengthy room. The giant proportions can make you feel a little small in the restaurant, especially when it is empty, which has been the case on two of my three visits.
True to the vibe of being in a conference center-hotel, when empty, the restaurant can make you feel as if you have snuck into a closed resort, although there just so happens to be staff on hand to greet and serve you. It is kinda spooky in that regard, which can give off a slight feeling of having landed in “The Shining.”
But once the food comes, it is pure warmth and luxury. More than once now I have tried the hamachi crudo appetizer that comes topped with shaved celery, dried blueberries, hazelnuts and ponzu sauce. The toppings, which may sound numerous, do nothing to overwhelm the rich, buttery fish. It is probably one of my favorite appetizers in town. On my last visit, I also had the tuna tartare, which had tart, crunchy pieces of Granny Smith apple mixed in with the fish and came on a plate that had a rich balsamic reduction and some toasted/candied nuts. And, just to complete the seafood trifecta, I also sampled some of my girlfriend Marita’s pistachio-crusted scallop, the subtle flavor of which is kicked up with a rich, earthy chanterelle mushroom puree that is eye-rollingly good. Maybe I have a three-way tie for favorite apps in town now.
I can’t seem to stay away from the coffee-rubbed New York strip, which comes with delicious, chunky roasted parsnips, candied garlic chips and an in-house mesquite-smoked syrup. And I’ve also sampled the herb butter baked chicken breast from my guest’s plate on a couple of occasions. Not one wrong note on either of those two dishes, both of which Sutter writes about here.
The main reason for this post is to draw attention not just to the amazing food and good service, both of which have moved The Carillon into one of my Top 5 in town, but also to highlight what a great deal you can get there. For $38, you can get a three course meal. All of those courses are standard sizes, no small plates here, and they can be arranged as you like. For instance, I had two appetizers and an entrée, while Marita had an appetizer, entrée and a dessert, which we split. Add an $8 glass of wine for each of us, and the total before tip came out to just a hair under $100. To get an idea of the price, the strip is usually $36 on its own. How or why do they do it? I don’t know. But it’s unarguably the best non-happy-hour deal I’ve discovered in town.
(Note: The Carillon is open to the public for breakfast and dinner only, as lunch is reserved for UT faculty and staff.)
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Movie review: ‘Splinterheads’ laughs fall flat
Writer/director Brant Sersen had a festival hit on his hands in 2004 with the ridiculous “Blackballed,” a movie that featured the comedic talents of Rob Corddry, Rob Riggle, Jack McBrayer and others. Unfortunately, Sersen’s cinematic offering this year did not offer the laughs of his previous effort.
In “Splinterheads,” Justin Frost (newcomer Thomas Middleditch) is in a mild state of arrested development. Unable to get his life on track, the twentysomething is stuck in a rut in his sleepy New York town, fiddling with delusions of karate-expert grandeur while toiling aimlessly as a yard-boy with his friend Wayne Chung — a name that is a decent indicator of the humor in the film: simple and expected.
Still living at home with his widowed mother, Justin is a bit of a man-child, full of whimsy and insecurity. His safe little world is shattered by the appearance of Galaxy (Rachel Taylor), a beautiful con artist and carnival worker who eventually introduces him to a world of mild adventure (in the form of geocaching) and risk-taking.
Middleditch, a ringer for Seth Meyers with a tinge of Jonathan Richman, is at his best when he is playing the more high-status comedic character — lampooning Chung and his mother’s ex-boyfriend, a police sergeant played by the ubiquitous Christopher McDonald.
Maybe Middleditch is too old, maybe he is too handsome, but he is just not believable, or very likeable, as the nervous momma’s boy. Additionally, the entire conceit of a boy meeting a carnival splinterhead who teaches him how to get on with his life just seems a little too absurd to swallow. It feels like a teen movie stuck between goofy adolescence and twentysomething self-discovery, not quite here and not quite there.
The movie does have a certain charm. Middleditch gives a nice if at times awkward performance, and Taylor is serviceable, although far too beautiful to be a believable “splinterhead” — but the movie struggles too often, forcing the wrong comedic note and losing the audience’s interest with its fairly ridiculous storyline. If a plot line is going to be as cute and absurd as that of “Splinterheads,” it either needs more of an adolescent feel or needs to deliver more laughs.
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Jay-Z: Larger than life at the Erwin Center
There are some performers who simply seem like they aren’t made of the same stuff as the rest of us. Jay-Z is one of those cats.
I will leave the review to my buddy Chad Swiatecki, who covers it well here. But I will say that Jay-Z is one of the most charismatic performers, most charismatic humans, I have ever seen live. He commanded the sold-out crowd at the Erwin Center from the second he rose from the bowels of the stage - a bit of showmanship that echoed his supernatural sense of himself.
I have never seen a crowd bounce in unison like that. I have never seen one man with a mic control a crowd the way Jay-Z did. I have never been so aware of the palpable sense that all of the women in a crowd wanted to get with the performer and all of the men wanted to be him. With his terrific 10-piece band positioned on risers slightly above the stage, Jay-Z was left to command the entire main stage by himself, stalking it from corner to corner in between amazing lyrical flourishes and admonitions to the crowd to get them moving, not that they needed much prodding.
He was Muhammad Ali, Eddie Murphy and Frank Sinatra rolled into one. Sure, the self-confidence tended toward self-indulgence at times in a set that lost a little steam near the end with Jay’s crowd banter and his cheesy play on German group Alphaville’s “Forever Young,” but, playing hit after hit from his 11 number one albums of the past 13 years, on this night, Jay-Z was Reggie Jackson in the 1977 World Series. One upper-deck shot after another. The ultimate baller.
I know some people roll their eyes at Jay-Z The Brand, a bottom-line-minded, savvy mogul who just happens to still make hits, but there is no denying the man is first and foremost a performer of the highest caliber … the most charismatic and affable CEO on the planet.
I was told by friends who attended that they were mired in a mini sea of drunk frat boys making fools of themselves (and, to be certain, I have never seen that many newly purchased Yankees lids), but my immediate section seemed to be comprised of an instant group of friends at a massive indoor block party. As for the sound at the much maligned Erwin Center, a venue I have not visited since seeing the Beastie Boys there a half dozen years ago, I didn’t have one complaint.
Set List: Run This Town, D.O.A., U Don’t Know, 99 Problems, Show Me What You Got, Give It To Me, Diamond Is Forever, Jigga My N——, Izzo (H.O.V.A.), Jigga What Jigga Who, P.S.A., Heart of the City, Already Home, Empire State of Mind, A Star Is Born, So Ambitious, Dirt Off Ya Shoulder — (encore break) — Thank U, medley (On to the Next One, Excuse Me Miss, Venus Vs. Mars, ‘03 Bonnie & Clyde, Lucifer, Swagga Like Us, Can I Get A?), Big Pimpin’, Hard Knock Life, Numb/Encore, Young Forever
Check out Statesman photog Ricardo B. Brazziell’s excellent photos from the night here.
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Meat and greet: Chefs celebrate Mondays with camaraderie and cabrito
As I approached the unassuming house in Northwest Hills, I nervously wondered if a secret knock would be required. Maybe a password? The word “fidelio” came rushing to mind (see: “Eyes Wide Shut”).
I followed a six-pack-toting couple in through the unlocked front door and was relieved to see there were no Mardi Gras masks — nothing cloak-and-daggerish about this night. Just a bunch of friendly faces, mingling affably in the living room and kitchen, the intoxicating aromas of meat mingling with the palpable sense of anticipation.
I had heard stories of a furtive meeting of local chefs and cooks who gathered monthly to celebrate the joys of cooked meat. As it turns out, Meaty Monday Madness (the acronym MMM says it all) is more four-star potluck than dark culinary cabal. But this is no ordinary dinner party with a hodgepodge of purchased dishes and thrown-together salads.
After a massive birthday feast at which he loaded his newly purchased barbecue pit to capacity last spring, chef Zack Northcutt (co-owner and chef of the downtown wine bar Mulberry) decided to make the event a monthly happening. For the first MMM in April, he opened his house to several of his chef buddies and their collected friends. Word spread, and the event has expanded over the past eight months to an invitation-only gastronomic fête arguably unparalleled by anything in Austin outside of a charity dinner.
On the first Monday of every month, about 10 local culinary wizards descend on Northcutt’s home, armed with dishes based on a theme of their host’s choosing. The night I visited in October, the tongue-in-cheek theme was Any Baby Can (Be Delicious), indicative of the playful and macabre sense of humor shared by the chefs.
Northcutt says the improvised monthly menus allow the chefs — who come from places such as Perla’s Seafood & Oyster Bar, Jeffrey’s, Wink, Lamberts Downtown Barbecue and Izzos Tacos — to experiment with recipes and ingredients that might intimidate their regular customers.
This October night, the feast featured smoked and braised cabrito, stuffed poussin (young chickens) and, the most visually stunning, whole piglets cooked three ways (straw, brick and wood).
“The big bad wolf wins,” Northcutt said.
After coming up with the night’s motif, often based on a joke or a personal challenge (think whole goat stuffed with a duck), Northcutt distributes the protein to the chefs, who prepare their meals and deliver them to the small kitchen at Northcutt’s house. Guests are encouraged to bring libations or a favorite side, but the stars of the night are always the animals.
It was here I tried the sublime creation of a poussin stuffed with ground veal, cornbread and foie gras. You probably won’t find that re-created on any menu in town. Trust me when I say that is your loss. For “Game Night” in November, one chef raised the bar yet again with a pheasant stuffed with veal and white truffles.
The evenings take on a slight feel of a “Top Chef” episode. But unlike the TV show, there is no competition or judging. Which is not to say that chefs participating for the first time don’t suffer from a slight bit of anxiety.
“I was kind of intimidated at first,” said 21-year-old John Gross, who cooks at Parkside, about his foray into the Madness in October. “But it was fun, and I definitely learn from my mistakes. I’m going to request every single Monday off.”
Gross is not alone in his appreciation for this monthly beacon of cooking and camaraderie among a group of chefs and cooks who have trained or worked together over the years in some of the city’s best restaurants.
“Working in a kitchen is very similar to being in an army or on a team,” Northcutt said at Mulberry recently. “It’s a lot of intense pressure and pain in a short period of time, and a lot of really hard and intense work that builds strong bonds.”
Those relationships, forged by the fires of grills around town, and the crew’s love of food help explain why this group would choose to spend their precious free time cooking for one another.
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Kansas City Chiefs fans fight for Priest Holmes’ record
The Kansas City Chiefs have a great history in the National Football League, and one that dates back to the old American Football League.
But currently they are a bad team. A very, very bad team.
I guess that is why their fans are more concerned about history than the current season. To wit, a group of Chiefs fans have started a petition asking Chiefs management to deactivate running back Larry Johnson before he breaks former Longhorn Priest Holmes’ all-time rushing record of 6,070 yards. Johnson currently has 5,996 yards.
“We are asking you, as fans of this team, this organization, and of the pride that this city has in the Chiefs, please deactivate Larry Johnson. Please do not let his name sit atop the all-time rushing leaders in Kansas City Chiefs history,” the petition says, according to ESPN.com. “He has never represented anything close to the values that we have for our Chiefs and it would be another dagger to the fans that continue to support this proud franchise.
Of course, as fans of the NFL probably realize, the concern of history is not necessarily trivial here.
Johnson has come under increased scrutiny of late, after he used his Twitter account to criticize his head coach and then followed that by using the social media device to deride a fan with a bigoted homosexual slur.
The petition continues, “We are asking you, as fans of this team, this organization, and of the pride that this city has in the Chiefs, please deactivate Larry Johnson. Please do not let his name sit atop the all-time rushing leaders in Kansas City Chiefs history. He has never represented anything close to the values that we have for our Chiefs and it would be another dagger to the fans that continue to support this proud franchise.”
The team suspended Johnson without pay through November 8, but according to ESPN.com, “On Monday, the team reached a settlement with Johnson, reducing the amount of pay he would lose in half, to $315,000.”
Whether the Chiefs bend to the pressure is yet to be seen, but I would imagine if we scrubbed the record books of all players who have acted ignorantly or disrespectfully (which Johnson most definitely did in this case), there would be a few less pages in those proverbial books.
While Johnson stews and the fans grumble, it looks like the person who may benefit the most from this unsettling situation is former NFL Offensive Player of the Year Holmes.
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