Theater of Improbable Frequency

The heart of Chicago theater is not in the palaces of the loop. With equal number, if at some occasions small to mid-sized theaters and performance halls than New York City, Chicago reigns in talent hungry to hone their skills. Though my Ally would be right in admitting that New York’s Broadway and London’s West End is the gold at the end of the rainbow, theater in Chicago isn’t viewed out of the mere fortune that we live in a culture-less area – we are the culture, with plenty of great shows to boot.

For years I have been journeying down to the city to watch shows in which my oldest friend, Mike Przygoda, has lend his musical talent to. So when he floats a text my way before my Wednesday night Humanities class at Harper with the offer of two preview tickets to his new show, Improbable Frequency at Strawdog Theater, a man wouldn’t be foolish to resist – especially since he has to save so much for a wedding in one year’s time. 

For years I’ve admired Mike’s musical commitment to multitudes of Chicago theaters. This is on top of his duties to students at The Chicago High School for the Arts on the South Side as well as being a company member of Barrel of Monkeys – oh and did I mention he runs his small label, Speed-Fi? The man doesn’t get sleep anyway. 

Another feather in his cap to another theater he is company member at is Strawdog Theater at 3829 N. Broadway in Chicago where Mike serves as Musical Director and Orchestrator for the musical comedy Improbable Frequency. Set in Dublin of the neutral to World War Two Irish Free-State (still under some British influence) in the early 1940’s, this tale of a rather uncommon and uptight English crossword artist Tristam Faraday turned spy gets raveled up in a game of intrigue with code words on Irish radio broadcasts that might in fact be helping the Nazi’s deliver weapons to the disgruntled and violent Irish Republican Army. Along the way our spy Mr Faraday (nice nod to English scientist Michael Faraday) crosses paths and romantic glances with the charming yet goofy Philomena O’Shea who appears to be up to her own games of deception. 

To say that Strawdog company members Michael Dailey as Faraday (doing his best Rex Harrison impression) and Sarah Goeden as Philomena (a wiz with comic timing and voice) are the only good parts of the show would have only resulted if the audience was only awake for their parts. Scott Danielson showed great range in switching from a bumbling Englishman, to Myles the poetic Irish alky-barfly, to the violent I.R.A man Muldoon. Jason Grimm leaves you tickled with his Hi-ti-di-te Irish accent of broadcaster O’Dromedary and positively Faulty Towers-esque English agent named John Betjeman. Christina Hall as Agent Green provides what Marlene Dietrich only wish she could have done with an English accent. Eric Paskey was a tad flat with the Colonel but was delightful as the overly sexed mad scientist version of the famous German scientist Erwin Schrodinger. 

In a cramped space off to the side of the stage, Mike leads his other musicians in music that as he told me, “had to be transcribed and learned without any sheet music.” Considering how tight the music was with the timing of the musical numbers (and there are a lot of cues for the small black box cavern style stage that is Strawdog) I applaud Mike for leading the musicians in using their ears to do the work of making the tunes of Improbable Frequency come alive. 

The show last night was the wrap-up of preview performances before the premiere tonight. Ironing out the kinks of missed cues, lighting and music bits is what Mike and the cast did right after the show. I’ll admit with the accents flying and the dry Anglo-Irish humor that even for a man like myself who lived in Ireland that I had a few moments where I found it difficult to follow along. The second act is a bit weaker than the first, most of all I think because of the Dr Who meets Mystery Science Theater 3000 in a musical sequence in Schrodinger’s lab with the Probability Machine, a device that effects space-time. 

Director Kyle Hamman notes that Improbable Frequency is “full of comedic bits, vocal cartwheels, and a quick step or two, (the show) is a wacky word-lay musical on the surface but keep your ear to the ground and you’ll pick up on something much more complex.” Take a chance on Strawdog Theater in their 25^th year, even if you are surrounded by hipsters that as Ally noted were “all drinking PBR while we are drinking Woodchuck.” Trust me, unlike with the Pabst you will be cool enough to see the delight that is Improbable Frequency.  

http://www.strawdog.org/

A Grilled Cheesy Night

We don’t know who started the craze. First it seemed food trucks, who specialize in a small set of items from Korean BBQ to tacos, started putting around the U.S serving only gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches. Then it seemed restaurants took a cue that people voted with their wallets on wanting more than stale white bread with the kind of American cheese that has to be peeled off from individual plastic layers. These sort of memories are collections of days where comfort foods of grilled cheese and a good soup, preferably tomato rice, warmed our bodies over from the frost that accumulated on our windows. Not blazing a whole new trail I took cues from others to try different breads and cheeses. Then, we’d really be breaking bland upper Midwest tradition by adding bizarre toppings – you know, like basil and chicken. 

One such place continues the creative grilled cheese tradition – Cheesie’s Pub and Grub.

Having to watch our wallets but still wanting to be fulfilled, my other food buddy Nick and I took up his suggestion to visit the new establishment at 622 West Davis in Evanston. The other location is the original at 958 West Belmont in Lakeview. Stepping out of the cold and into the delightfully colored walls of Cheesie’s, one should abandon pretention, embrace the creativity and realize their target audience is the kids down the street at Northwestern University. Ever the Humanities instructor, I smiled at the playful Dali-esque mockeries of modern art on the main wall – Picasso’s statue and Ladies of Avignon, a Superman pose of who Nick and I guessed was Stephen Colbert, and a who’s who of Hollywood from Chicago in an Edward Hopper remake of Nighthawks. The purple wildcat claws of Northwestern are painted about, making us aware that students run the front. 

To my hilarity, and perhaps I shouldn’t expect much less from some students these days, one cashier was helpful and caring whist the other was too cool for school in his ironic hipster glasses and senior citizen wool button up, dancing around to a Kesha song that blasted out from speakers above as he delivered the baskets. You lose style and humanity points, jackass. 

Ever the curious bunch, Nick promised to exchange the half of our sandwich for each others. He ordered the special – a Texas toast combination of American cheese, fried pickles and catfish. Though it sounds disgusting, the sandwich was an excellent combination of savory and hearty. My appetites were for the delicious The Melt, made with American cheese, Chihuahua cheese, marinated chicken breast, bacon, Thousand Island and tomato on Texas toast that was served with creamy pesto mayo dipping sauce (damn good). 

With a side of tater tots for him and sweet tater fries for myself, I’d be a fool not to take advantage of the next Groupon or LivingSocial that offers deals on Cheesie’s Pub and Grub. Go there at least for some creative, unpretentious spins on traditional foods like the grilled cheese. It's not like they've added foie gras to a grilled cheese - yet.

https://cheesieschicago.com/

First Time Sushi

Absences from writing have parasitic effect on one who best expresses themselves through words. I could make excuses ranging from the multiple sicknesses my fiancé and I have had (and apparently am developing mid-winter allergies again) that combined with a need to save cash in a strapped time, I have found myself without a blog posting. There are cultural elements that inspire us all – I keep forgetting with each movie I watch (last night was Midnight in Paris) to the new meal that has me nodding my head with every appreciative bite that the limits we find our only within ourselves. Let me get back on that horse.

Seeking a cure for the stay-inside-all-day winter blues, the past weekend Ally and I scoped out a restaurant for a new experience. Ally felt the challenge calling her to seek out sushi for a dinner at Kona Grill in Lincolnshire. Having not had sushi since the infamous ‘toilet hugging’ incident on my cruise back in 2010, enough time had passed for I to get over my fears and bring life to a dull season. 

Traversing across the crowded parking lot the wind found any open crevice around our coats to seep in and remind us to “stay home!” With 20 locations across the United States, Kona Grill embodies a fusion of modern American with Hawaiian and Japanese touches. The three hundred gallon fish tank behind the sushi station and the bamboo handles on the doors are the most dramatic touches of those cultures whereas most places might resort to kitsch and have their restaurant be the next nation featured at E.P.C.O.T’s World Showcase. The soft lighting was provided by muslin draped over umbrella styles that were imbedded into the ceiling, allowing for the sharper focus to be on each guest as they peruse over a range of excellent choices on the menu. 

Ally and I decided to warm up our bellies with a martini for her and a Manhattan for myself. Ally had her nervousness about trying sushi for the first time, no thanks likely to my tale of horror from the seafood soup and sushi I had out three days at sea in the Caribbean. Pushing herself in a way I admire, I encouraged her, and perhaps myself, to get over those feelings we all embody from foods that have developed plagues within our bodies for days at a time. Ally went with the Atlantic roll, a cucumber roll with tempura flakes, baked salmon, and a spicy aioli. Craving some ahi tuna over rice, we dove in with our chopsticks, both pleasantly surprised at the deep sea richness of mine and the multitudes of flavors of her rolls. It made Ally order a larger set of sushi rolls, the California roll, for the entrée. Although she enjoyed the avocado and crab mix, her heart was with the Atlantic rolls. 

Feeling the Cajun influence of super bowl weekend, I ordered the soft shell crab po’ boy. At a near top notch quality of seafood, why would you go for the fried chicken here and wait for the bland seafood platter at Red Lobster? Served on a soft brioche bun the po boy had wonderful levels of flavor – first from bites of the lightly breaded and fried soft shell crab, then the spicy slaw and chipotle mayo, then from the crisp bibb lettuce and the soft hint of Cajun flavors from slices of andouille sausage. Messy as it seems, sometimes a great sandwich deserves to be a battle. 

Though the dessert at Kona Grill of banana cream pie was nothing to write home about, the remainder of the experience certainly was. Their webpage photo features of salt rimmed cocktails and ciabatta sandwiches with sliced grilled rib eye steak will bring your wallets inside as well.  

 http://www.konagrill.com/