Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Life Underground at The Secret Cafe
We’d been planning on seeing David and Kim but their kids were sick. However, David continued on the telephone to me, Kaleb’s illness meant that Kim was going to stay home to take care of him, and couldn’t use her reservation to see Daniel’s show at the Secret Cafe. Did either of us want it? Hell yeah, I wanted it. David gave me directions to a specific unmarked gate leading up certain stairs near a particular intersection in a complex and transitional neighborhood on the far side of the bridge. Be there by 8, he told me, and bring $12. “It’s an unusual place,” he explained.
At 7:45 I found the gate on a block of small shops with apartments above, an unmarked iron grill next to an unassuming storefront. I went up dark stairs into a spacious whitewalled apartment hung with excellent art. Empty bookcases stood bolted against a few walls, and the living room floor was otherwise filled with two-, four-, six- and eight-tops under red tablecloths. Seating was on wooden chairs of innumerable design. A wide bank of redwood-framed windows spanned the front of the room looking down on the street below. I found Dave there already but we were among the first to arrive. Things were pretty quiet.
We signed in with a woman managing the guest list, paid $12 each, and went to get a drink in a roomy adjoining gallery with the same white walls and rich wood floors. The night’s menu was posted near the front door, and on a hallway leading back to the kitchen hung a collection of a dozen or so older menus from prior feasts. Beer and wine were outrageously inexpensive, and they also were selling crystal mugs of a brandy-champagne concoction called a “loving cup” - yowzah. As we drank, things filled up quickly; by 8 the place was packed with 70 likeminded folk and we were asked to take our places at our assigned tables.
I had the pleasure of sitting opposite David (who had been calling me his “date” until I explained the role assignments), and also with his cousin (and my friend) Mark and his new wife Mikisha, the esteemed Dr. Andy, Benjy (who seemed like a very decent fellow) and Daniel and Holly, soon to be wed. Daniel is David’s brother; I’ve known him for 20 years, and his fiancee Holly for at least ten. That particular night was the 6th anniversary of Daniel’s diagnosis (by Dr Andy no less) with a very serious illness, which he’s long since completely beaten. He also just just found out he’d passed his state boards and is now officially a L.Ac. With Marc and Mikisha also very recently returned from their honeymoon in Vietnam and Thailand, the conversation was lively and warm.
Service was a bit informal, since there were so damn many of us crammed into that room, but we all passed bowls and plates amongst ourselves and no one went without. We dined like kings - like vegan California kings, but kings nonetheless. And on what do the Californian vegan kings dine? They start with a warm bowl of soba noodles in asian broth (with lotus root, which is delicious and fun to eat), and then move on to risotto of sushi rice with mustard greens, escarole, green garlic and nijiki; a salad of asparagus, orange, avacado and purple carrots (and I could swear there was a little kumquat in there too); and a nice crisp wedge of pan-seared tempeh with miso, ginger, chili and perserved meyers. For dessert we each enjoyed an individual old fashioned strawberry shortcake, drizzled and drenched with with some kind of non-cream cream that was rich and sweet and gooeylicious. Needless to say, it was great food, and left me feeling strangely energized and focused.
By 10:30 the chairs had been moved into the gallery, where Daniel and his old friend Rich picked up guitars and performed an hour-long set as “Bruised Orange,” their name floating above them on a calligraphed banner frozen in mid-breeze, with clouds surrounding it hung from monofiliment. They hadn’t played in public for four years but their decades of friendship and their well-honed skill immediately kicked in for them. Despite some professed pre-show jitters, Daniel looked totally comfortable and sounded great playing the guitar and singing tight, counterintuitive harmonies. After a while they were joined by a percussionist and, later, by a cello player. The music was keening and passionate and restrained; it had a subcutaneous effect. All around, an excellent show.
At midnight the show was over. I bade my friends goodnight at the nondescript gate on the now-quiet street and drove home in record time. The bridge, the skyway, Octavia and Fell and the park.... it all just fell into place. I got home at 12:30 and fell very deeply asleep. My mind was at peace. I possessed the secret of the Secret Cafe, and I was damn glad they let me in on it.
