More random photos from a jazz festival weekend

This is Jordan. He's 19 and wants to be a plumber. He was quite possibly the nicest, friendliest and hardest working  ice cream sales man ever. He also knows who to target. People who've had a few 'beverages' sitting in the beer tent. He also has the knack of knowing how to sell his product. Basically, if you repeat 'ice cream' enough times to drunken people in a suggestive manner, they will either buy one to get rid of  you or, like subliminal advertising, will suddenly feel the need for a Magnum or drumstick. We not only bought ice cream but also told him we would feature him on this blog. He's going to rule the world one day.

 Bad day, kitty?

 

Lamb skewers being grilled at a Korean BBQ stall. Three for $7, they were succulent with chewy patches, spicy from some Korean red pepper puree, salty from salt, (I assume), sweet and very moreish.

They also had squid. Brushed with oil and grilled with the same 6 dips, sauces and rubs that the cook kept dipping into and brushing onto the surface.

Chicken on a beer can is a recipe I discovered last year. At that time I cooked it with far more success than I did on Friday evening. Basically, a chicken sitting atop a can of beer (or other liquid), is placed like a tripod onto the grills of the BBQ and left for 1 - 1.5 hours to cook. The idea is that the beer will steam the chicken from the inside and impart some of the flavour into the meat. Usually, a dry rub is first rubbed all over the chicken and a sauce is used to baste the skin while it cooks. You can use other meats as an alternative to chicken such as duck, turkey or Cornish game hens and the liquid used to steam can be as diverse as celery soda or coconut milk.

On Friday, this being somewhat of a rushed, mildly intoxicated affair, a rub was hurriedly made from whatever was available. Cajun salt, black pepper, cayenne and chili powder mixed up with some oil were applied to the bird. The skin does crisp up surprisingly well as the BBQ acts like an oven, as long as the top remains closed. The finished dish was a little bland as no sauce had been used to baste it. I didn't bother taking a photo of the finished bird or meat. Like I said, we were a little tipsy. Watch out for a future post of this in far more detail.

No words are needed.

The sun beat down on the back of our necks and shoulders as we sat on the grass, the music drifting over from the main stage, that disjointed, chaotic rhythm of 'improvisational' jazz. We had coke cans with a little rum sneaked in from a bottle brought in by us, (very illegal in Vancouver) and these deep fried potatoes, cut into a spiral with a hand cranked piece of equipment and sprinkled with a variety of flavoured salts. Soft and fluffy on the inside, salty and crisp outside, they were perfect. 

All this was finished off with a trip to the beer tent to drink lager from plastic cups while watching a myriad of people such as 911 conspiracy theorists telling us that Wills and Kate blow up buildings, old hipsters with white beards down to their knees, dancing in a strange fashion while dressed in head to toe tie dye, young professionals, sipping wine and pretending they are cultured enough to enjoy Japanese prog rock / improvisational jazz, nodding their heads in appreciation,  to the up and coming New York band sitting next to us. This is why Vancouver International Jazz festival is the best thing in this city and to really top it off, these weekend events are free.