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i'll continue with my tales of franz ferdinand next week, as there
will be at least two more entries...minneapolis was the climax of the
tour by far by far by far.
and franz likes our city as well. they had a break of a couple of
days here before heading up to winnepeg, and they used the time to go
guitar shopping, bike riding, and music geeking. alex chose one of
his favorite minneapolis eateries to focus on today for his weekly
"soundbites" column: our dear dear nye's polonaise. eeee!!!! enjoy.
The Kluski Pasta
Alex Kapranos
Friday April 28, 2006
The Guardian
The beat of the World's Most Dangerous Polka Band bursts through the
swing doors of the Polka Lounge. Lu Sneider takes her place at the
piano. She's played every evening of the 40 years that Nye's Polonaise
Room, Minneapolis, has been open. She knows more than 500 songs and
anyone can sing along with her if they feel up for it. A couple of
Polish granddads in anoraks join her. They beam beatifically as they
wail and wander through a tune. It may be Delilah. Red swirls of
carpet flow wall-to-wall like molten lava. The furniture is vinyl
chesterfield - gold sparkle booths and burgundy wing-backed bar
stools. Most of the waiting staff are over 50 and wear black bowling
shirts, but the wooden wall panelling feels more bowling club than
bowling alley. Heavy, dark glass-studded lampshades hang from
antique-effect beams jutting from the ceiling tiles. It's extremely
atmospheric, as if David Lynch, Mike Leigh and Krzysztof Kieslowski
built a place to shoot movies together.
The most striking waitress leans against the bar. Her hair is a
bouffant puff of white candyfloss with a midnight black fringe.
Oversized specs magnify her eyes to massive pools that survey the room
with mildly amused detachment. David, our waiter, brings us Polish
appetisers: pierogies (filled dough parcels), a mound of sauerkraut, a
jumbo sausage and dense potato dumplings. The star bite is the kluski
pasta: thick egg noodles with poppy seeds and sour cream that have a
texture that is as satisfying to bite as bubble-wrap is to pop.
Minneapolis is a brewing city and we all order pints of Grain Belt
Premium.
I don't pay enough attention when I order my main course and choose a
medium-sized rib. Medium size is 24oz. That's a pound and a half of
cow hanging off a bone. It looks like the ribs that tip over Fred
Flintstone's Stone Age buggy in the title sequence. The tastiest bit
is the crunchy black stuff crusted around the bone. Wading through the
spongy pink flesh begins to feel like I'm lost in a Dartmoor bog
searching for an end with a creeping sense of resignation as I realise
that this is where I'll sink. I stuff a couple more forkfuls into my
mouth, but it's too much. It doesn't feel like food any more. I give
up. So do the singing granddads. Lu Sneider starts Making Whoopee.
ยท The writer is the lead singer with Franz Ferdinand.
will be at least two more entries...minneapolis was the climax of the
tour by far by far by far.
and franz likes our city as well. they had a break of a couple of
days here before heading up to winnepeg, and they used the time to go
guitar shopping, bike riding, and music geeking. alex chose one of
his favorite minneapolis eateries to focus on today for his weekly
"soundbites" column: our dear dear nye's polonaise. eeee!!!! enjoy.
The Kluski Pasta
Alex Kapranos
Friday April 28, 2006
The Guardian
The beat of the World's Most Dangerous Polka Band bursts through the
swing doors of the Polka Lounge. Lu Sneider takes her place at the
piano. She's played every evening of the 40 years that Nye's Polonaise
Room, Minneapolis, has been open. She knows more than 500 songs and
anyone can sing along with her if they feel up for it. A couple of
Polish granddads in anoraks join her. They beam beatifically as they
wail and wander through a tune. It may be Delilah. Red swirls of
carpet flow wall-to-wall like molten lava. The furniture is vinyl
chesterfield - gold sparkle booths and burgundy wing-backed bar
stools. Most of the waiting staff are over 50 and wear black bowling
shirts, but the wooden wall panelling feels more bowling club than
bowling alley. Heavy, dark glass-studded lampshades hang from
antique-effect beams jutting from the ceiling tiles. It's extremely
atmospheric, as if David Lynch, Mike Leigh and Krzysztof Kieslowski
built a place to shoot movies together.
The most striking waitress leans against the bar. Her hair is a
bouffant puff of white candyfloss with a midnight black fringe.
Oversized specs magnify her eyes to massive pools that survey the room
with mildly amused detachment. David, our waiter, brings us Polish
appetisers: pierogies (filled dough parcels), a mound of sauerkraut, a
jumbo sausage and dense potato dumplings. The star bite is the kluski
pasta: thick egg noodles with poppy seeds and sour cream that have a
texture that is as satisfying to bite as bubble-wrap is to pop.
Minneapolis is a brewing city and we all order pints of Grain Belt
Premium.
I don't pay enough attention when I order my main course and choose a
medium-sized rib. Medium size is 24oz. That's a pound and a half of
cow hanging off a bone. It looks like the ribs that tip over Fred
Flintstone's Stone Age buggy in the title sequence. The tastiest bit
is the crunchy black stuff crusted around the bone. Wading through the
spongy pink flesh begins to feel like I'm lost in a Dartmoor bog
searching for an end with a creeping sense of resignation as I realise
that this is where I'll sink. I stuff a couple more forkfuls into my
mouth, but it's too much. It doesn't feel like food any more. I give
up. So do the singing granddads. Lu Sneider starts Making Whoopee.
ยท The writer is the lead singer with Franz Ferdinand.
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