Carolina Chocolate Drops in New Haven

Carolina Chocolate Drops on stage at New Haven's
International Festival of Arts and Ideas
Photo by my old shipmate and friend, Wojtek Wacowski.

It is no secret that I'm a traditional music junkie.  Past posts about Pete Seeger, Peggy Seeger, and John McCutcheon testify to that.  I've been getting banjo notables to sign my banjo for a good while now and I've got a list of people that I'd like to track down and have them sign my banjo.  The members of the Carolina Chocolate Drops have been at the top of my list for some time, but their tour schedule rarely brings them to the northeast.

A few weeks ago, Kimberly the Ever Vigilant happened to see that the Drops were scheduled to appear at a free concert on the New Haven green as part of the International Festival of Arts and Ideas so, this past Saturday, Kimberly, Ian and I packed our trusty orange picnic blanket and a variety of yummy munchies and made our way for an evening of musical bliss.

The Carolina Chocolate Drops had their beginnings at the Black Banjo Gathering in Boone, NC, and honed their traditional Afro-Appalachian string-band music playing with then-90-year-old African-American fiddler, Joe Thompson (1918-2012).  Their set-list includes a lot more than string band music from the 1920s, though, incorporating disparate influences such as the music of minstrel shows, and Celtic "mouth music" as well as hip-hop and rhythm and blues, sometimes all at the same time.

Dom plays my banjo, with Hubby and Leyla.
Rhiannon is obscured by glare and my poorly placed body.

Last Saturday, the Drops put on a fine show, performing favorites like "Goin' Down the Road Feelin' Bad," and "Cornbread and Butterbeans," as well as a traditional Haitian song about a musician whose romantic prospects are limited because he has no friends and no family, and the title track to the band's latest album, "Leaving Eden," a song about the sorrows of leaving home in the hopes of finding work elsewhere.

After the concert, the members of the band were available for autographs and all seemed very happy to sign my banjo, looking at the other signatures.  "I'm going to sign next to Peggy!" said Rhiannon, excitedly.  Hubby signed/doodled his signature, with drawings standing in for letters.  Leyla, who isn't a regular performer with the Chocolate Drops, but who had played banjo beaufitully, asked, "Are you SURE you want ME to sign this?"  I did.  Dom's signature was small and careful and then he spent a minute or so playing my insturment, while the rest of the people in line watched in what I'd like to believe was pleasure.

My banjo head continues to fill up.
CCD signatures are transcribed for your reading pleasure.

Thanks to Charlie Barrett, for shooting video of Saturday's event and posting it to his YouTube channel!!

Restaurant Review: Royal Guard Fish N' Chips, Danbury, CT

As part of our mission of eating at a different restaurant each week that I'm preaching in Bethel, my son and I decided to try Royal Guard Fish N' Chips/Royal Curry Corner this past Sunday.  Ian had noticed a listing for the restaurant on Yelp! and we decided to give it a try, knowing as we drove there that we'd both be eating from the Pakistani lunch buffet, yet also wanting to try their fish and chips, which gets good reviews across the interwebs.

The restaurant, at 389 Main Street in Danbury, is directly across the street from the Danbury Masjid and has a neon sign in the front window announcing "Halal Food."  When Ian and I walked in, we noticed that the restaurant was rather spartan, with a counter for placing orders in one corner and a buffet along the back wall.  The tables were bare, with yellowed newspaper designs on them, befitting a chips shop.  The other customers were largely Pakistani and wearing traditional clothing, which I took as a positive sign for the quality of the buffet.

Ian and I made our way to the buffet, lifting the lids off of the steam trays and helping ourselves to the wide variety of food.  The chicken biryani was very flavorful,.  I was reminded that this was Pakistani (Muslim) and not Indian (Hindu) as I helped myself to some well-seasoned beef curry.  Ian really enjoyed the pakoras, though I didn't sample any.  Tandoori chicken always makes me happy and Royal's tandoori chicken was better than most, moist and flavorful and fall-off-the-bone tender.  The palak paneer (spinach with fresh cheese) was quite good, as was the chana masala (curried chickpeas).

Poori, as God intended them to be but not, unfortunately,
as they appear on the buffet at Royal Fish N' Chips.

The only real disappointment of the meal was the poori (deep fried whole-wheat flatbread), which is usually a real treat.  Poori, however, doesn't belong on a buffet.  It needs to be served hot and fresh.  Unfortunately, on the steam table, the poori, which was puffed up when it comes out of the oil, collapsed into depressing soggy flatness and lost all of its light and airy goodness.   The naan (tandoori bread) was delicious, though, with a nice, nutty flavor from the sesame seeds that covered the top of the bread.

Despite the tragic poori, the meal was quite good and was also quite affordable.  Next time I go back, I'll have to make the difficult decision about whether to get more of the Pakistani fare or to get the fish and chips for which the restaurant is named.  It'll be a tough call.

Preaching at FCC, Bethel

First Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, Bethel, Connecticut

For the last few weeks, I've been preaching at the First Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, in Bethel, CT.  Their pastor of thirteen years, Dr. Sheldon Smith recently retired and their interim minister, Rev. Laura Westby, won't start until March 5, so I've been filling the pulpit as something of an "interim interim minister."  I've been sharing the pulpit with the congregation's Licensed Parish Associate, Jane Ellingwood, and have been enjoying myself immensely as I lead both the 10:00am and 6:00pm worship services, which are distinctly different in style.  The 10:00am service is a "traditional" service, with three hymns, choir, organ, and full liturgy.  At 6:00, the service is more intimate and relaxed, with a guitarist playing for the songs, only one scripture reading, and is concluded with a potluck supper in the church hall.

I've been impressed by this friendly congregation.  They've welcomed me into their family and have been receptive to the small changes that I've suggested.  Most notably, they've been enthusiastic about the modification that I've made to the traditional "Please turn off your cell phones" announcement at the beginning of the service.  Now, the announcement goes something like, "Please take out your phones and check in on Facebook, Foursquare, LinkedIn, Twitter, or other social media.  Silence your devices, but please use them to let your friends who are not here know what they're missing."  There's also been a lot of interest in the way that I have Ian videorecord all of my sermon and then post them to youtube (www.youtube.com/revpaulucc) so that those who miss the service can still be able to experience worship.

Just this morning, I received a call from one of FCC Bethel's deacon co-chairs, asking if I would be willing to add an extra Sunday to my time with them, so I've agreed to preach there on March 4, which will have me celebrating communion with them on my last Sunday there.  Already, though, I'm looking forward to the possibility of returning as a guest preacher when Laura takes her vacation or for a special program on the story of the Amistad.

Restaurant Review: Pontos Taverna, Norwalk CT

Valentine's Day was a bust, what with my working at the hospital all day and then having (cough) getting to go to the Winter Concert at Brien McMahon High School, where Ian performed in both the Symphonic Band and Wind Ensemble.  Actually, the concert was really quite good, even if I am left wondering what kind of person schedules a school concert for Valentine's Night.

Sweethearts out for a romantic
post-Valentine's Day lunch.

Wednesday, though, was a Different Story.  Kimberly declared that, in celebration of Valentine's Week, we would go and have lunch at Pontos Taverna, the relatively new Greek restaurant that had caught her attention a while back.  She had made a reconnaissance of the place a couple weeks prior and came away with the notion that it would be well worth a repeat visit, with me in tow.  Since the car was in the shop, we walked down to 7 Isaac Street for lunch, arriving just a smidge after the lunch rush was past.

Dolmades!

After being seated and given menus, it quickly became obvious that Kimberly knew just what she was going to order: a pork souvlaki sandwich.  For the sake of having different things to taste, I settled on the gyro (please pronounce that "gyeer-oh", with a very soft G, not "jie-roe") sandwich, which I ordered with french fries and xtipiti, a spicy feta cheese spread for a dollar extra.  Our server went out of her way to be informative and helpful, explaining that the french fries were served inside the sandwich and recommended that Kimberly and I also get a separate order of fries to share. Of course, we also had to get an order of dolmades (stuffed grape leaves).

Kimberly's souvlaki sandwich.

My gyro sandwich.

French fries to share.

The dolmades, made with meat and rice and served cold, were a great beginning to the meal.  Kimberly was very pleased with her souvlaki sandwich and she allowed me a bite of it, it being Valentine's Week.  As good as it was, I was much more impressed with the gyro.  While I generally like gyros (or doner, if eating Turkish instead of Greek), this one was particularly good.  Instead of the usual ground-meat version, this  gyro was made of sliced meat, stacked on a vertical, rotating spit, with the resulting product being a bits of lovely, browned meat, rather than strips of homogenized beef and lamb.  The xtipiti, which was new to me, was wonderful, adding nice bite to the sandwich, instead of the typical tzatziki sauce, with its yogurt and cucumber flavor.  As to the french fries in the sandwich, they lost their structural integrity and mostly just gave a carbohydrate boost, which definitely wasn't necessary.  The fries that were served on the side were fabulous, though, fresh-cut and served nice and hot with salt and oregano.  The only thing that would have made them better would be a squeeze of lemon juice.

Since it was our Valentine's Day-ish date, Kimberly and I decided to get coffee and dessert.  She got an order of baklava, which looked to be enough to feed a small army, and an American coffee.  I had the tiramisu, similarly large, and a Greek coffee, which was served in a cute, but decidedly right-handed demitasse set.  Somehow, I didn't manage to take any dessert photos; I'll let you guess why.

Other than the strangeness of the right-hand-only coffee, Pontos was fantastic and I expect that Kimberly and I may well make this one of our regular stops when we're looking for somewhere tasty and close to home.

The Benefits of a Beard

Back when I was first ordained, in 1992, I was a clean-shaven young man with nary a whisker to mask my boyish good looks. People often commented on how young I looked and how they couldn't believe that I was old enough to be a minister. I even had a couple elderly church ladies actually pinch my cheeks.

Then, in 1995, something happened. At first, I thought it was an accident. Kimberly, who was pregnant at the time, and I went home to Virginia for Thanksgiving and I forgot to pack my razor, so I came home with a week's worth of... well... to call it "beard" would be generous, but humor me.

Please.

My beard doesn't really grow in that fast, or that thick, but I had always kind of wanted to grow a Grizzly Adams beard and getting a week's accidental jump on it galvanized me to leave the razor in the drawer, despite the ribbing I took at church about "trying to grow a beard." Eventually, though, I had to admit the pitiful state of my facial hair. The razor came out and I shaved everything down to a nice little goatee.

A couple weeks later, Kimberly and I were taking a Lamaze classes at Yale-New Haven Hospital and the nurse midwife who was teaching the class noticed that every single dad-to-be in the room was sporting some sort of facial hair. "How many of you guys started growing your facial hair since your wife has been pregnant," she asked us, and every single one of us raised our hand. "That's perfectly normal," she told us, "many men feel the need to grow something themselves when their wife is pregnant. Some take up gardening. Others grow facial hair." I guess since it was winter, none of us had opted for setting out flats of tomatoes, but maybe my leaving the razor at home at Thanksgiving hadn't REALLY been an accident at all. Maybe it had been a subconscious drive to create!

Over time, the goatee thickened up and became pretty respectable, though I always chose to wear it fairly small. Still, even with the goatee, people would comment on how young I looked and would, at least metaphorically, pinch my hairless cheeks.

I wore that goatee for 13 years and every child who drew my picture, whether it was my son or a kid from church, portrayed me with a brown circle around my mouth that made me look like a toddler that had thoroughly enjoyed a fudgsicle. My goatee became something of a trademark. One Halloween, some of my parishioners (a dad and his two young sons) came to a church party dressed as me -- with paper clerical collars and paste-on goatees.

Still, I longed for more. Every time my family went on vacation, I would decide to give the full-beard another try, but each time, my wife would "suggest" that I go ahead and shave back down to the goatee so as to avoid public ridicule. Such spousal wisdom is hard to ignore.

This past Christmas, though, I finally got my chance! With three months of sabbatical -- on a schooner -- in Africa -- I figured I just might be able to pull off the beard growth I needed, without having a congregation chuckle at my attempts. I could look as ratty as I wanted and be able to pass it off as "salty." It was the perfect time to forget the razor!

So, just before Easter, I came back home furrier than I left, still no Grizzly Adams, but with fuzzy cheeks to match my furry chin. My wife likes it. My son told me that I should definitely keep the full beard. What was even better is that nobody made any comments about how young I looked, anymore, not even visitors to church. The cheek-pinching was over! Life was good!

Then I went to the mailbox.

As I sorted through the mail, setting the bills aside, tossing the fund-raising letters in the recycling and separating out credit card offers to shred, I came across a piece that didn't fit any of my ready categories. The envelope had red lettering on it and I opened it with a certain trepidation. It proved to be just what I had feared: proof that my new beard does, in fact, make me look older. I had received an AARP membership application, along with my own little plastic card with an authorization code! Alas, I guess the beard works a little too well.

Now, all I'll have to do is wait another dozen years until I'm old enough to become a member.

Moving Forward

This morning, my family and I transferred our church membership to the Cresskill Congregational United Church of Christ. We've been attending there for a few weeks and were glad to be able to formalize things. I'm particularly pleased to be part of the church at Cresskill because it is a church that reflects many of the core values that were not expressed at the church I recently pastored.

First, and perhaps most significant, is that they are, unabashedly, a part of the United Church of Christ and make a point of reinforcing that on a regular basis. They have UCC posters hung on the walls, they use the UCC bulletin covers, they have a large UCC logo on the side of the church building, they highlight social issues championed by our denomination and they regularly refer to themselves as Cresskill UCC, rather than just as "Cresskill Congregational." While they still cherish their Congregationalist roots, they have embraced the new life that came with their joining the UCC a half century ago.

Second, the church is an Open and Affirming congregation, which means that they have gone through a formal process of discussion and discernment and have made an official statement that they are welcoming and fully inclusive of LGBTQ people. Again, they have made it a point of pride to announce their O & A status on all of their documents, saying "We are an Open and Affirming congregation!" For my son's sake, I am very glad to be able to have the social messages that my wife and I teach in our home reinforced in church.

Another thing that makes me happy about our new chuch home is that, in the fall, my son will be able to attend Sunday school as well as church because the two programs are not scheduled opposite each other. While I know that many churches schedule the two programs concurrently and point to the fact that the parents are able to worship while their children are educated, I can't help but believe that it is inherently better if everyone has the opportunity to attend Christian education classes AND to go to worship. That way, everyone's mind and spirit are fed and families have the opportunity to worship God together. While I don't have any data to support my hunch, I also suspect that including children in worship prepares them to be active parts of the congregation following their confirmation, an outcome that seems sorely lacking where young people are segregated from the rest of the church.

That was the morning. After church, Kimberly and I took our son up to Silver Lake, the camp and conference center run by the Connecticut Conference of the UCC. Back in the 1990s, when I was serving churches in Connecticut, I used to lead week-long sessions at Silver Lake, where I taught teenagers clowning skills -- makeup, skitwriting, improv, juggling, etc. -- and then helped them put together a program for the rest of the campers. Even before my son was old enough to be a camper, he wanted to be a part of Silver Lake's magic and this is now his fifth year as a camper. These days, he's looking forward to being old enough to be a part of the camp's staff.

So it looks like Kimberly and I will have a quiet week, hanging around the house, going to the shore, maybe going cycling or canoeing, and I'll try to get my sailboat ready for when our niece comes to visit us next week. Ah, summer!