He was also very tolerant when I told him—in German—how glad I was to talk with him. Although it’s been a long time since I studied German, so it’s possible that I said, “That building is very tall.” Anyway, on to the interview . . .
I thought I would break the ice with something goofy, try to put him at ease with a silly question. So, I asked him if the Vegetable Orchestra would consider collaborating with a non-vegetable-playing musician –
“We have worked with a trumpet player.”
Well, now we’re off to a rollicking start. Maybe he just hadn’t gotten comfortable with me yet. Then I suggested the group could tour with Lady Gaga (she wears a meat dress, they play vegetables—it’s a balanced concert!), but that idea didn’t seem to grab him either.
The orchestra was formed in 1998, and the top-selling music act that year was Celine Dion, so I asked whether they were trying to make a statement when they started, as a response to Celine’s style of mainstream pop music—
“We’re more concerned with contemporary classical music.”
And here, I was hoping for a little Celine-bashing. I pressed on, though, convinced that somehow I would find the right stupid question to break through his European exterior and maybe get the Austrian equivalent of a laugh out of him.
I was fascinated by the notion of how a group like this gets started. I wanted to know whether anyone in the ensemble had prior vegetable or produce-related experience, he said,
“Not really, only cooking. Not really playing, or anything like that.”
So, I guess they were just having dinner one night, and someone said “I wonder what sound this would make if I blew into it.”
Still trying to stir up a something, I asked him if there would be tension in the group if one of the members formed an all-meat band as a side project:
“Nobody would have a problem with that . . . everybody has other projects, because the Vegetable Orchestra isn’t big enough . . . it doesn’t provide enough income for everybody.”
I stopped and reflected on that. What kind of world is this, where people can’t make an honest living as vegetable musicians?
You can’t interview a musician without talking about groupies, so I asked Jörg if their groupies were typically vegans, and he said, “Not really,” but he also said they get a lot of “feedback” from vegans, and that’s some sort of slang.
But then he tried to tell me the Orchestra doesn’t have groupies, and I don’t buy it. He might play vegetables, but they’re still musicians who tour. They get laid plenty.
I was becoming desperate to uncover a scandal, so I asked Jörg how stoned they were when they came up with the idea for a vegetable orchestra, and he actually told me,
“We were just crazy with ideas.”
Yeah, and I’m just high on life. Speaking of the munchies, the orchestra has recently stopped what had been a tradition at their shows – making a soup from their instruments and sharing it with their audience. Apparently some venues suggested that might not be a great idea, hygiene-wise.
I saved the two most important questions for last. The first one had an obvious answer, but it was nice to have a professional musician validate what I’ve said for years: What’s the best-sounding vegetable? “Broccoli”.
My last question had to be great. I couldn’t waste an opportunity to ask a cutting-edge musician at the vanguard of the new music scene the kind of question that gets to the heart of his creative passion: Do Brussels sprouts sound better than they taste?
“Well, you can make some squeaking sounds if you press them together . . . and I like the taste!”
As it turned out, my gourd-wielding friend was an incredibly good sport about my unorthodox questions, and as much as I may have initially intended to mock the Vienna Vegetable Orchestra, I listened to the music, and, to be honest, I thought it was pretty groovy.
You let yourself get caught up in these oddly resonant, earthy sounds, layered on a bed of rhythms banged out on pumpkins and gourds…the leafy greens keeping time…it’s actually really good. And it’s good for you!
It’s not mainstream, assembly-line accessible, but if you can open your ears to it, ‘vegetable music’ can be pretty tasty. I think if they really want a foothold in the U.S, though, they should put out an album of covers. Of songs with food in the title. I bet they could do a killer version of Booker T.’s Green Onions.
It was a simpler time, before people used vegetables
to create avant-garde chamber music.
A Culinary Soundtrack
Music and food have been intertwined for centuries. In fact, one of the greatest operatic composers, Gioachino Rossini, was such a gourmand that not only did he compose some of his most famous arias while dining, but several dishes are named in his honor.
In fact, the term ‘Alla Rossini’ usually refers to any dish incorporating truffles, foie gras, and a demi-glace sauce. So thankfully, I now know what to call all those truffle and fois gras dishes I cook.
Rossini even wrote several piano pieces about food, including his Four Hors D’oeuvres. If you get a chance to hear it, listen to the touching second movement, Les Anchois, undoubtedly the finest piece of music ever composed about anchovies.
For some reason, early in the twentieth century, it was popular to name foods after opera singers. The next time you dig into some Turkey Tetrazzini, you can thank Luisa Tetrazzini, the Italian soprano.
And a rival of Tetrazzini, Australian diva Nellie Melba, inspired Escoffier to create Peach Melba and Melba Toast.
"Great. Now when people hear my name,
they'll think of inedible dry bread"
In today’s music scene, I suppose great chefs are naming dishes after hip-hop stars, but I’m not sure the food world is ready for Eggs Kanye, Wu-Tang Chicken, or Lake Trout a la Snoop
“Place butter and chronic in a medium sizzlepizzle
Since I like to listen to music while I’m cooking, I went searching for some songs about food. I tried to be strict about my criteria. The song has to be about the food.
For instance, Mayonnaise by Smashing Pumpkins isn’t included, because it has nothing whatsoever to do with mayonnaise. And because Billy Corgan has always annoyed me.
Also, I had to leave out Warrant’s Cherry Pie, because apparently it is not about an actual cherry pie.
I thought I’d struck gold with the Talking Heads album More Songs About Buildings and Food, but it turns out the album includes NO songs about buildings OR food.
Lastly, I tried not to use any songs that suck. For example, the 1947 Mel Tormé abomination Tacos, Enchiladas, and Beans, made popular by Doris Day, which features lyrical gems like
You’re the only one my heart adores
You’ve only got three competitors
Tacos, enchiladas, and beans”
and this
Love ‘em, dozens of ‘em
I consume them by the score
The farthest back I went for my playlist was the 1930s; the most recent track is from 1983. This list may not work for everyone – you might prefer to julienne to the Jayhawks, or need a little Morrissey in your mise en place.
But I’ve put together a pretty eclectic mix. It’s best to start safe, with songs explicitly about food, if you’re not used to mixing music with cooking.
The fact that you like Sarah McLachlan doesn’t mean her music is the right background for your dinner ‘pre-show.’ You might just become too depressed to finish, and end up slumped over the counter thinking of sad puppies.
So grab these tunes off the interwebs, or from the clouds, or however the hell kids get their music these days. Then take whatever iGadget you have, use the playlist on the next two pages, and start cooking.
Note: The first three tracks are instrumentals, and while I suppose that means they’re not technically ‘about’ food, I think they each capture the spirit of the foods after which they’re named.
Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass
Whipped
Cream (1965)
Just try to forget that this was also the theme to the ‘The Dating Game.’
Booker T. and the MGs
Green Onions (1962)
I don’t think this song would be nearly as cool if it were called ‘Scallions.’ I don’t know why.
Dizzy Gillespie All Stars
Salt Peanuts (1942)
The be-bop rhythms should make tedious prep work a snap.
Fats Waller
All That Meat and No Potatoes (1936)
A cautionary tale of the dangers of poor meal planning…
Slim Gaillard
Matzoh Balls (1939)
Historic, as it may have been the first recorded use of the word ‘matzoh’ by anyone named ‘Slim.’
Nat ‘King’ Cole
Frim Fram Sauce (1945)
There is no such thing as ‘frim fram sauce,’ but there certainly should be.
Louis Jordan
Beans and Cornbread (1949)
Just your basic jump-blues chat between a pot of beans…and some cornbread. They work it out in the end.
Hank Williams
Jambalaya (1952)
In probably the least definitive cover version ever, the Carpenters did their version of this on their album ‘Now and Then.’ I should not know that.
Tom Waits
Eggs and Sausage (1976)
Sometimes, you need to go to the local greasy spoon with the other nighthawks if you want a decent meal.
ZZ Top
TV Dinners (1983)
In case you decide, “Screw it, I don’t feel like cooking or going out.” It’s not especially deep, but it’s redeemed by the line “twenty-year old turkey in a thirty-year old tin.”
All the Music You Can Eat
British author and philosopher G.K. Chesterton once said, “Music with dinner is an insult both to the cook and the violinist.” Coincidentally, an anonymous violinist in London once said, “Screw Chesterton. I wouldn’t invite him over for dinner anyway.”
Me, I love music with dinner. I just don’t want it to overshadow the food, like I’m at a Hard Rock Cafe. Did you know that there are a hundred and fifty Hard Rock Cafes around the world?
I wonder if at some point, they’re gonna expand too much, open a new location, and realize too late that they’re out of the really cool rock memorabilia. They’ll have to display things like Mick Jagger’s dry cleaning ticket, or a guitar used by the guy who sang harmony for Air Supply.
Back to music and food. I’m always looking for ways to combine my two passions, and as I was listening to a random playlist the other day, I decided to create a menu using only foods that are also the names of chart-topping recording artists.
I was strict about it–the name of the group or artist, by itself, had to be something you could actually eat or drink—no ‘Smashing Pumpkins,’ or ‘Strawberry Alarm Clock.’
I was a little sad to find out there’s no such thing as ‘April Wine,’ because that meant I had to exclude one of the hardest rocking bands ever to come from Nova Scotia.
I threw together a three-course meal based on only these acts—twelve recording artists who, between them, sold millions of singles and albums, and together, would make a damned fine dinner.
Note: ‘Singles’ were individual songs you could buy in a physical store, and ‘albums’ were entire collections of songs by the same artist, all pressed into slabs of vinyl you could hold in your hand.
You had to use a special device to access the songs called a ‘record player,’ and you had to listen to the songs in the order the artist intended. It’s hard to believe how primitive music was then.
APPETIZER
Hot Tuna on Bread with Hot Butter
We whet our appetites by remembering a band that oozed out of the musical lava lamp of late sixties San Francisco. Hot Tuna’s first album hit #30 on the charts in 1970.
I’ve paired the patchouli-scented Jefferson Airplane side project with the relentlessly bland stylings of Bread (Thirteen ‘Hot 100’ singles between 1970 and 1977?! How did we let that happen?).
Don’t forget the Hot Butter, and believe me, if you’ve ever heard their #9 hit from 1972, ‘Popcorn,’ you’ll remember it. And if you do, you’ve probably got it stuck in your head right now. Sorry.
For this open-faced appetizer, try sautéing the tuna in some herb butter, and by ‘herb,’ I mean marijuana. Your house will reek for a few hours, but you’ll be tripping to some psychedelic blues, so it won’t matter, and why are you trying to harsh my buzz, anyway, man? Wait, is someone at the door? Are you a narc?
MAIN COURSE
‘Salt and Pepa’ Meatloaf
Black-eyed Peas, Red Hot Chili Peppers
Sure, he descended into self-parody on Celebrity Apprentice, but let’s remember that Meat Loaf’s 1977 opus, Bat out of Hell, went fourteen times platinum, which represents something like fourteen gazillion records sold!
Unfortunately it also spawned Paradise by the Dashboard Light, which has inspired frat boys and their girlfriends the world over to try to ‘perform’ the song at karaoke.
Any good meatloaf needs some seasoning, so we’ll add the best-selling female rap act of all-time, with Salt and Pepa releasing six platinum singles between ’86 and ’97.
Finally, combine black-eyed peas (over sixty million records sold since ‘03) with chili peppers (five top-five albums), and you’ve got a big helping of quasi-funk, right there. It’s like having a near-funk experience.
For the meatloaf, you can find many good recipes online, but I rely on a handful of very old, musty, tattered ACTUAL cookbooks. You know, made out of paper, like in olden tymes.
Here’s a meatloaf recipe from a 1914 collection put out by the Boston alumnae chapter of Alpha Phi.
There doesn’t seem to be anything particularly ‘Swedish’ about it, and notice that there’s no middle ground as far as the onion is concerned—two thin slices, or just shove the whole onion in.
In honor of the singer, be really loud and dramatic when you cook this meatloaf. Cook the black-eyed peas until al dente. Just before the beans are done, finely shave a few chili peppers into a hot skillet.
Add cooked beans to skillet. Stir frequently. Sprinkle grated parmesan cheese and kosher salt on top of entire mixture in skillet. Serve hot.
DESSERT
Ambrosia, Raspberries and Cranberries
Vanilla Fudge with Cream
“Cake”
Ambrosia can be a little too sweet for some tastes, but the group had five Top 40 singles between 1975 and 1980. Someone must like it.
I figure we’ll balance that with a little tartness from the Cranberries (a little yelpy for my tastes, but four top twenty albums) and the Raspberries, who, from 1970-75, featured Eric Carmen, before he decided to craft a solo career of mopey self-absorbed treacle.
Beginning in 1967, Vanilla Fudge released eight albums and reached #6 on the U.S. charts with a slow, proto-grunge, ultimately creepy cover of the Supremes’ You Keep Me Hanging On.
Top that with some Cream (1966-1970), you get two more top ten hits, and the only million-selling album in history named after Benjamin Disraeli.
Lastly, we serve up a little alt-indie-postmodern rock with Cake. Between 1996 and 2011, they’ve had five albums debut in the top fifty, so looking and sounding bored must sell. If you really want to end the meal with a hipster’s sensibility, serve something that isn’t cake, but still call it “cake.”
Since not as many people make (or listen to) ‘ambrosia’ any more, here’s another recipe from the 1927 Piggly Wiggly Cookbook.
Sadly, Miss Belisle (of ‘Swedish meatloaf’ fame) graduated fifteen years before the first Piggly Wiggly Store opened, or I’m sure they would have served this at some sorority bash.
Just be sure to use Baker’s Southern Style Coconut (none of that Arctic-style coconut), and remember—just like in life, bananas are optional.
BEVERAGES
Hot Chocolate with Sugarcubes
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Mmm . . . Hot Chocolate. Although mostly known here for the disco earworm “You Sexy Thing,” in the U.K. they had a Top 100 chart hit every year between 1970 and 1984. Even they’re not sure why.
Toss in some Sugarcubes for an Icelandic group with three top-twenty albums, featuring a quirky, young, swan-obsessed girl named Björk Guðmundsdóttir.
I wouldn’t recommend playing all of these artists for your background music during this dinner. That would be far too obvious, and you’d have to actually listen to Bread. Here’s an alternative:
Isaac Hayes
Hot Buttered Soul (1969)
None of the four tracks on this album have anything to do with food, but Hayes’ twelve-minute version of the Bacharach-David classic Walk on By should pair nicely with the appetizers, and by the time everyone starts to feel the groove of Hyperbolicsyllabicsesquedalymistic, nobody will care if your meatloaf isn’t quite perfect.
Fear, Loathing, and Porridge
If I told you I knew a chef who has created the most decadent and exquisite porridge from locally sourced ingredients, full of sublime flavors and textures, would you think that this chef:
A) Trained for years at Le Cordon Bleu in France, is probably named ‘Jean-Michel,’ and might be a little snooty
B) Trained at a flapjack house in Ada, Oklahoma, dropped acid “a lot,” was stabbed at a Van Halen concert, likes to “blow fire just for kicks,” owns a herd of buffalo, and has a tattoo that was hand-drawn by Hunter S. Thompson’s illustrator.
If you answered ‘B,’ then you must know Mitch Omer, co-owner and executive chef at Hell’s Kitchen, a man who has been following his mischievous and sometimes destructive muse for thirty-five years.
Does This Taste Funny? A Half-Baked Look at Food and Foodies Page 8
