Bobby "Blue" Bland at B.B.'s: Ten Years Ago

[Pink Pig Time Machine by Wilfrid: September 23, 2013]

The highlight of the week ten years ago had nothing to do with dining, although some members of the audience were calling up fried chicken and ribs.  It was the glorious Bobby Bland, little boy blue himself, perched on a stool at B.B. King's and delivering a lesson in singing the blues.

Bland died just three months ago, aged 83, so he was a venerable 73 when I saw him. Previously just a voice on a record or CD, it was a privilege to be in the same room and watch what he could do--with a snort, a wink, or that rich baritone when he decided to set it free.

A lot of the set, of course, was taken up by chatting with the audience, telling stories, the letting the band show their paces.  But then a gem would come along: "St James' Infirmary," "I'll Take Care of You, "Further on Up the Road," and snatches of "I Pity the Fool." Glorious.

Eat?  I did: at home, chicken livers grilled with salad; red snapper with a sage crust. I also made a first visit to Forbidden City on Avenue A, a club which was well ahead of the small plates trend, delivering crab croquettes, scallop dumplings, shrimp toasts, and quiveringly rich pork belly.  It's still with us, but I think the club element long ago became more important than the kitchen.

Baldo Vino, a now-defunct Italian on East 7th Street: beef carpaccio with parmesan, fettucine with duck ragù, veal "cigars," pistachio cake.

Then I got sick.  But next week I recover and do some East and West Village dining.