thoughtcrumbs

Hannah, Bryce, and I went to see Nickel Creek last night. First stop: Cañita, the new Cuban restaurant on Burnside, per Alan's recommendation. La comida era muy sabrosa, y había una bebida nombrada "Morir Soñando." I think "To die dreaming" could describe just about any drink on the ten-page menu (nine of which were dedicated to Cokteles de Cuba). I had garlic taro-root fritters and Cristianos y Moros (rice and beans), although, like most meatless but fried food, I question whether it's truly vegetarian. So -- highly recommended, but not for the vegan crowd.

Given their pretty photos, the band could've been Abercrombie kids of mediocre talent pimped by a megalomaniacal manager (think NKOTB or Britney), but they were astonishing. Particularly Chris, the mandolin player, who had the energy of Guster's drummer and the licks of someone twice his age. Among their phenomenal original pieces, they interspersed covers of Elliott Smith, Nirvana, the Beatles, and (my favorite) Jon Brion. Plus snippets of Rhapsody in Blue, Peter and the Wolf, and a Bach Partita (which no one but Hannah and her ex-boyfriend across the hall recognized). And they had amusing banter, too: "This is a beautiful concert hall. But you know what it needs? Twenty-five bright green exit signs. . . Oh, look, there they are! I feel like we're playing to a crowd obsessed with leaving."