Battle of the edible bands: Dishes that taste like crooners, punk-rock, and Jewel
What does punk rock taste like? Apparently, it's tangy, and goes great on sandwiches.
Fan sites, tribute bands, and street teams are all fine ways to support and honor a musical act, but not nearly as delicious as turning a favorite artist into a cocktail, dish, or condiment. Pelican is the latest to get this tribute, with go-to burger joint Kuma’s Corner (2900 W. Belmont Ave., 773-604-8769) unveiling a new namesake burger of the local instrumental rock band. This whet The A.V. Club’s appetite to scavenge around for other performers that have been transmogrified by restaurateurs and entrepreneurs into drinks and entrées.
The artist: Pelican
The dish: The logically named Pelican Burger at Kuma's Corner, debuting tonight, tops a parmesan crisp with a 10-ounce Kobe beef patty, lardoons (strips of fat), and pan-seared scallops in a garlic white wine sauce.
Lost in translation? Not entirely. Pelican (the band) has made incremental moves away from pure metal with each release, while Pelican (the burger) wields a less belligerent recipe than many of its musical grillmates, like the Goblin Cock: a 10-ounce patty with bacon, cheddar cheese, tomatoes, onion, neon green relish, sport peppers, pickles, celery salt mustard, and the titular quarter-pound Vienna Hot Dog. Still, while the band and the food may share a sense of post-metal progress, it's hard to reconcile song titles like "Angel Tears" and "Final Breath" with fanciful table fare such as pan-seared scallops. Then again, real pelicans don't seem to care what combination of things they cram down their throats. So, in this case, perhaps it's best to take a page out of their book: open wide and eat it all.
The artist: Led Zeppelin lead singer Robert Plant
The dish: The Mr. Plant from the RH Bar at the Andaz West Hollywood hotel, a saucy (and sauced) cocktail of No. 209 Gin, cucumber, tangerine juice, agave syrup, and soda, gives every inch of its love to the mane, pipes, and exploits that helped define the hard rock pioneers and past guests of the hotel—in Zeppelin's day, the RH was better known as the "Riot Hyatt" where Plant gave his legendary sermon about being a golden God from one of the hotel's balconies.
Lost in translation? Not a bit. The tangerine juice gives a nod to one of Led Zeppelin's finer ballads ("Tangerine" from Led Zeppelin III), while the cucumber pays tribute to the countless innuendos that defined the other 99 percent of the group's catalog.
The artist: Frank Sinatra
The dish: Twin Anchor’s (1655 N. Sedgwick St., 312-266-1616) Zesty “Soy”natra Sandwich, a vegetarian take on the sloppy Joe: Loaded with soy, chopped peppers, tomatoes, onions, all simmered in a tangy barbeque sauce on a soft roll. It’s one of the Lincoln Park establishment’s many empty-nester-like tendencies of clinging to one of its favorite customers—Frank’s personal phone is still there against the wall, bolted to the floor, and the wait staff is all too happy to reminisce.
Lost in translation? Most definitely. One of Twin Anchor’s favorite stories about Ol’ Blue eyes is his bringing a big pack of famous friends like composer Don Costa and football hero Sid Luckman inside, barking his simple order, “Ribs, and keep ‘em coming!” If the carnivore was still around, he’d probably be barking a different order, “Hey, stop appropriating my name for this hippie food, or it’s ring-a-ding-ding for youse guys!”
The artist: Minor Threat
The dish: Wheelhouse Pickles' Minor Threat Sauce combines mango and mustard flavors with mild habanero heat. Giving the sauce extra cred, Wheelhouse founder/owner Jon Orren made a concerted effort to win the band's approval before using their name on his condiment.
Lost in translation? Big time. While certainly hardcore in its science-defying claims and its producer's meticulous methods, Minor Threat Sauce is produced in Brooklyn (unlike the Washington, D.C.-bred band). More damningly, Wheelhouse's Gin N' Turnips and Champagne Vinegar Spears also suggest a non-Straight Edge manufacturing environment, making Minor Threat Sauce more closely resemble a Murphy's Law sauce.
The artist: Miles Davis
The dish: Selim Spumante non-vintage sparkling wine from Viticoltori De Conciliis claims to channel the musical spirit of jazz's Prince of Darkness: "sweet and impertinent" with an improvised approach. It should also be noted that "Selim" is "Miles" spelled backwards; whether this is a reference to Davis' earlier modal experimentation or hidden reverse Satanic messages on record remains unknown.
Lost in translation? Slightly. De Conciliis compares its wine to Davis' later works, "light and chilled out, when only the sound of his trumpet reminded listeners of his sad ballads," an assertion which blatantly overlooks 1985's forgettable You're Under Arrest and its dentist office-worthy covers of Michael Jackson's "Human Nature" and Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time." Then again, most of Davis' later works actually did remind listeners of his sad ballads—and how much better those ballads were than what he was producing at the time.
The artist: Jewel
The dish: Jewel’s acoustic smoked chicken quesadilla, part of last year’s “Rockstar Favorites” menu selection of dishes offered as a collaboration between cutting-edge artists like Los Lonely Boys, Rascal Flatts, Hoobastank and late-night diner/synergy-engineer Denny’s. The Utah-born singer’s offering is saving souls with smoked chicken, “a blend of cheeses,” spicy red chile sauce, and pico de gallo. It’s served with sour cream and a lime wedge.
Lost in translation? Kinda. Jewel’s singer-songwriter music exudes more blandness than anything resembling a feisty kick—the most daring thing the singer has done was briefly abandon her folk roots for more commercial dance-pop on 2003’s 0304. But her latest, this year’s Lullaby (chock-full of her renditions of classic soothers like “Brahm's Lullaby” and “Somewhere Over The Rainbow”) has a lot in common with Denny’s food at large: They’ll both put people in a coma, but for different reasons.
