Fuel of Rock

About two weeks back, we had a summer grillin’ session at Patos Locos, Jim’s music studio where we hold most of our practice sessions. If I’m remembering right, we had some kohlrabi slaw and two kinds of potato chips and some spicy Cajun chicken sausages and big slabs of cheddar to put on the burgers and beer, of course, and Bader Cellars wine. It was a perfect summer spread.

Then I went to France and posted pictures of the food, causing bandmates Pete and Ed to be openly annoyed with me. Pete’s personal Facebook page is a stream of gorgeous food. Typically, if we’re off to play somewhere, he’s the guy who suggests the location for dinner. Before and sometimes, again, after.

We found him last night at the counter at Brix, a plate of risotto in front of him, a glass of icy sangria nearby. Mark ordered food, I made the mistake of not doing that and going right for the sangria — which knocked me sideways after about a quarter of the glass. That’s my excuse for forgetting the second verse of that one song and I’m sticking to it. It was so pretty, the sangria, a sparkling ruby color, I couldn’t resist it.

Motivated by the promise of excellent mu shu, we headed to Asian Wok after our show at Urban Coffee Lounge. We caught the kitchen staff just in time to get dinner; the restaurant was empty save for the band and friends. We filled the giant Lazy Susan in the middle of the big table with classic Chinese food. There was a complicated puu puu platter with a flaming brazier and cashew chicken and some other stuff — you know the drill, you’ve eaten Chinese in these suburban places where the food is surprisingly good.

The Castaways and friends at Asian Wok, Kirkland. Yes, the light in that place was a little… weird.

What I’m saying is that The Castaways like their grub, and not in some snobby way; we enjoy our nitrate coated bacon flavored potato chips as much as we like our creme fraiche filled chili rellenos, please pass the sangria. Which is why, when Ed asked us if we were interested in playing a Bastille Day festival hosted by well respected Seattle chef  Thierry Rautureau, we all responded, “Will he feed us?”

Well, not all of us. Jim first wanted to know if we could play Bastille Day by Rush. Maybe we’ll work up Revolution instead. But before we do that, we’re going to want a little plate of something delicious as fuel.