Last night I partook of the free (pass-the-hat) Lo Fine show at the Apollo Grill, and it was lovely. It reminded me of the Listening Room, without the anxiety-producing pressure to remain silent and still the entire time. People generally sat and paid all attention to the band (a few people - employees? residents from upstairs? - kept drunkenly swanning around and taking multiple flash photos). The show was to start at 9, though it was closer to 9:30 (or later). My guest and I were anticipating getting a few appetizers to enjoy during the show - in fact, we'd planned and eaten light dinners so we'd be prepared. But alas, the kitchen closes at 9. Which seems like poor planning to me. The bartender seemed to get that a lot of people had come expecting food (at a restaurant...) and she gave us a plate of warm pita bread and very garlicky hummus, gratis. Awesome. It went nicely with the pinot grigio, until I managed to knock over the rest of my glass onto the floor. A server was there immediately to mop it up with a rag. Apollo Grill gets major points for service.

Lo Fine was excellent, as usual. And as usual, I couldn't understand a word Kevin said or sang onstage. But the music is always lovely.

Although I am not trying to look a gift horse in the mouth, I have a problem with raw chunks of garlic such as the ones in the hummus last night. They tend to stay with me for a long, long time. Last night I flossed and swished my mouth with Listerine until my eyes watered and I still had a skunky garlic taste in the back of my mouth. This morning I can still feel it, all funky and hot inside of me, and this is after eating Key Lime yogurt and a cuppa Earl Grey. Frankly, I'm lucky that I seem to have avoided the intense gastric effects raw garlic sometimes causes me. I know you don't want me to elaborate.

Coincidentally, after the Apollo Grill I went over to chez Price to pick up my dog, and T had me try the hummus she'd just made from scratch. It was perfect, indistinguishable from really good store-bought. It reminded me of my hippie-leaning mom's hummus, who made it from scratch years before it was readily available in supermarkets. She'd fill a big old amber-glass mixing bowl with the hummus she'd made with her electric food processor, sculpting it up the sides to create a bowl shape in the middle, into which she'd pour olive oil, fresh lemon juice, and fresh parsley. It was delish.