So three weekends back (yeah, it’s taken me awhile to find the time to get to this), I did one of the craziest, most extravagant things I’ve ever done. I flew to Chicago. For a meal.

Oh, I’ve gone to extremes for high-end dining before, such as my meals at Astrid y Gaston in Lima, Momofuku Shoto in Toronto, and Alinea in Chicago, among others. But all of those meals were a side dish to a pre-existing trip—our visit to Machu Picchu, and my attendance at the World Fantasy and World Science Fiction conventions, respectively.

But this was a trip with the meal as its primary focus. My Sicilian dinner at the ever-changing Next restaurant impressed me so that I wanted to take part in its follow-up offering, Kyoto, and so booked tickets back in September the moment they became available.

Even as I did it, it felt wrong somehow. Fly to another city … for a meal? How decadent!

And yet …

If I had a chance to see Nijinsky dance one more time, or Olivier act again, I’d fly across a continent and feel no shame, but when it comes to food, there’s somehow a twinge of guilt, of … should I really be doing this?

The answer is, when it comes to chefs operating at this level of art on a menu which will be offered for a limited period only to vanish and never return …

Yes. Yes, I should. (more…)

There isn’t much I’d wake up early for on Black Friday. In fact, except for the chance to experience what I experienced last night, I can’t recall ever bothering before.

But Bryan Voltaggio, whose Frederick restaurants Volt, Family Meal, and Lunchbox I’d eaten at and loved before, was opening a new D.C. restaurant, Range. He’d sent out an email to his customers offering a chance to take part in a pre-opening preview dinner, and I wanted in. So there I was, sitting at my computer before 5:00 a.m. on Black Friday, hitting refresh, refresh, refresh until I scored a 5:30 p.m. reservation for four on the first of three preview nights.

After studying Range’s awesome menu, and realizing I wanted to try a far greater variety of dishes than would be possible during a normal dinner, I had a plan—I’d bring along a cooler, order way too much food, practice restraint, and treat the meal as best as I could as a tasting menu, waving away half-eaten dishes and creating tons of leftovers. Which, amazingly, I managed to do, thanks in part to one of the friends who’d joined us, who reminded me now and again of how we’d promised to pace ourselves.

And so, last night at 5:30, Irene and I found ourselves happily seated at a table at Range, looking forward to the wonders chef Bryan Voltaggio’s crew was going to prepare for us.

Our server explained that though the restaurant would be able to deal with 300 customers at full capacity, the first of the preview nights would only serve 130 as the crew got up to speed. We had no problem with being guinea pigs, and because of this found whatever slips in the level of service that occurred (most of which will go unmentioned, because it just wouldn’t be fair) to be endearing rather than troublesome.

And since the food was amazing, everything I hoped it would be, causing quite a few moans that it’s perhaps best one only utters when among friends, I had no problem with being part of helping the crew figure out how to operate in this new environment. In fact, I enjoyed watching the learning process. (more…)

As Carol Ross Joynt wrote in The Washingtonian this morning, “The opening of a new restaurant is like the opening of a Broadway show.” And as those of you who’ve been following my posts on Bryan Voltaggio’s soon-to-open restaurant Range already know, I’m as excited about having nabbed reservations for the first of its pre-opening preview nights as I would be about scoring tickets to the opening night of a new play.

Maybe even more so.

Which is why, with that dinner only five days away, and having already seen the dinner menu, I’ve been wondering—what about dessert? (more…)

I got together with a few other ukulele players this afternoon for a rare jam. Which made me realize it’s been far too many months since I last shared a uke video with you.

As those who haven’t been recoiling from my irregular ukulele news know, I bought my first instrument on Black Friday 2012, so it’s now slightly more than twelve months since I took my first strum. I share this video to show how a year of plodding stubbornness can triumph over a complete lack of natural musical ability.

If there was a uke teacher in my area, I’d sign up for lessons immediately, but sadly, there is none. I’ve been mostly self-taught through YouTube videos, a month or two with a guitar teacher who tried to help me along, and two days at last summer’s Strathmore UkeFest.

Meanwhile, I’ve already signed up for next year’s Strathmore UkeFest, plus this week I committed to attending the March George Formby Society convention in Blackpool.

I have no idea how much more I can learn without one-on-one face-to-face teaching … but this brings me joy, and so, I continue.

After having shared with you two self-serving snippets from the April 2, 1972 episode of the Malachy McCourt radio show on which I was a guest, I feel I should present you with some excerpts that are a little more public-spirited—so here are three commercials and a news report, all with an old timey feel that makes them of much more general interest.

First up, an odd Planned Parenthood ad—odd because, until the song which takes up most of the airtime finishes playing, I had no idea what the ad was even about.

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My fascination with my Brooklyn-infused teen voice from 40 years ago (which I told you about yesterday) has me thinking that I’m surely not the only one who’d like to hear the sound of the voice he used to have. Here’s another snippet from that newly digitized 1972 episode of the Malachy McCourt radio show to give you idea of who I was back then.

Scott Edelman discusses teacher reaction to his high school newspaper

While I’ve shipped a copy of the two-hour show to my high school pal Barry Chaiken, there were five other students who appeared with us who should also get copies, but I have no idea how to reach them.

Maybe you can help with that.

They are—

Robert Weisberg, South Shore High School

Les Becker, Bronx High School of Science

Meryl Cranes and Darrell Middledorf (or Daryl Mitteldorf?), Stuyvesant High School

Bob Streeter, Hardin (or Harden?) High School

If you have any idea how to find these guys—because my Google-fu has proven useless—let me know!

I like checking out restaurants when they’re still all shiny and new, which is why I made sure to get into both Momofuku Shoto and Cafe Boulud during my recent trip to Toronto. It’s also why I woke up before dawn on Black Friday to get reservations for the first preview night of Bryan Voltaggio’s new restaurant Range.

Yesterday, a bunch of D.C.-area food bloggers were given a look at what Range would offer, and their various tweets, Instagram pics and write-ups made me extremely jealous I was not among them. But the good news is—we now have a look at what Range will offer when it opens, because the Washington Post shared the menu this afternoon.

Have a look!

I’ll probably order the whole rabbit, hunter style when I dine there in 11 days.

Or the rotisserie lamb neck.

Or the pork cheeks.

Or perhaps the veal sweetbreads.

Or maybe … just maybe … I’ll order them all, and make sure I have a cooler along to carry home a ton of leftovers!

If you’d known me back when I was a Brooklyn teenager, you’d have sworn I sounded like one of Welcome Back, Kotter‘s Sweathogs. And if you didn’t know me back then, you were just going to have to take my word for it.

Until now.

Because I’ve managed to get my hands on the April 2, 1972 episode of Malachy McCourt‘s radio show, where I appeared, two days after my 17th birthday, to take part in a two-hour program on high-school newspaper censorship. McCourt had invited me and my South Shore High School pal Barry Chaiken (plus a few students from other New York schools) after we’d published an interview with him that resulted in us being forced to cross out several words deemed unacceptable from thousands of copies of Shorelines, our school paper.

The two hours of audio are fascinating, not just for the picture of the student struggle for an unfettered press, but also because of the news reports on Vietnam, the presidential campaign, and the death of Gil Hodges, who’d suffered a heart attack that morning.

I’m sure that eventually, because of its historical import, I’ll upload it all. But for now, here’s a snippet from the end of the program, as I respond to McCourt’s request for a few final words.

Scott Edelman on the Malachy McCourt radio show

Be honest. If I hadn’t told you who that was … would you have recognized me?

I woke up pre-dawn on Black Friday—the only time I’ve ever done such a thing—in order to snag a table to the first of three preview nights for Bryan Voltaggio’s new restaurant, Range.

Since then, the chef and the restaurant have been tweeting tantalizing photos—as if I could possibly be more stoked for that first meal! (I think I may actually be part of the first preview night’s first seating.)

In case you’re as excited as I am—or if you’re not, and need a little goosing to get you excited—check out these pics that have been shared over the last few days.

Delivery of the first bag of oysters

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I used to have a pretty decent Silver Age comic book collection—that is, until working in the business burned me out on comics altogether. Eventually, I couldn’t bear to look at them, and sold all save a few of the more valuable ones, which I hung onto in a safe deposit box purely for investment purposes.

But as I’ve mentioned here before, there’s one comic I later regret letting go of—a comic I wasn’t even sure of the title and issue number of at first—but which thanks to one of you I learned was Tales of Suspense #69.

And thanks to Claudio Piccinini, who located and kindly sent me a copy, Tales of Suspense #69 is mine again. (more…)