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Rating: There are days in all our lives, characterized by the total absence of the slightest stimulus. Flat, apathetic, dull, static, tedious. To make a culinary analogy, we could call them "bland." And if we move from a metaphorical context to a practical one, it is my modest opinion that one of the simplest and most effective ways to refresh body and soul in such moments is to have a nice meal. However, I imagine that this hypothesis will be dismissed by health enthusiasts, poor souls forcibly on a diet, or simply people who find no comfort in food (how this is possible, I don't know and don't want to know). There is food and food anyway, eh.
And on days like today (sadly corresponding to the description given just now), I believe what is really needed is a healthy dose of food for the soul. And what could be the favorite nourishment for the soul of a rhyme enthusiast reciting over four-four beats? Exactly: Rap. Which, like dishes intended for our digestive system, is "prepared" in the most diverse ways. Let's see what I might choose today... If I just wanted to indulge at Merdonald's, they serve the new Happy Bling (it's worth getting just for the attached gadgets... But when will they start making those big chains with the euro symbol?!), at the candy store you can stock up on sweets with only 50 cents and practically everywhere the duck sauce craze is rampant. Hmm, no, let's leave fast food aside. I wouldn’t set foot at "Chez Kanye" under threat of emasculation anymore. Besides not churning out anything tasty for a good while, the owner gets on my nerves: first, he publicly disses Giorgino Dabliu, then apologizes. Moreover, with a speech that's more stomach-turning than his dishes due to its hypocrisy. Adding to this, he recently adorned the place with Horus heads and other Masonic touches, so you see how the mere thought of that damn place kills my appetite. I could then dive into the delights of Nouvelle Cuisine! But in this terrible psychophysical state, I'd just dishonor the ingenious creations of good Jaime and his jolly companions. I might be accused of being closed-minded, but with this mood, I want to play it safe, rediscovering the genuine flava of yesteryears. Therefore, I think I'll take a trip to Mecca and Brother Soul.
No, it's not a religious brotherhood with very confused ideas, but rather an old-style trattoria serving unmissable classics. Running this warm, familiar and cozy little spot, are two charming gentlemen answering to the names of Pete Rock and C.L. Smooth. The first is a high-ranking chef, one who draws from an encyclopedic and classy cookbook. But could such a distinguished cook simply reproduce dishes from the past, just as his granny would have prepared them? Of course not. In fact, Pete blends with taste, minces finely, shreds and reassembles to his liking, spices and (re)mixes it all, so much so that if the ingredients weren't carefully noted on the menu, sometimes identifying them would not be easy. However, all this bliss would be partially wasted if it wasn't served to us by a maître d' worth his salt. A role Mr. Smooth covers excellently. A person so amiable and polite that even when the table conversation veers toward delicate topics like "Ghettos of the Mind" and the rising "Anger in the Nation," he manages to maintain enviable class and finesse. If one intends to enjoy a meal here, quality and quantity blend so harmoniously that any attempt not to feast becomes futile. How can one resist "T.R.O.Y.," the house specialty, one of those rare delicacies that once tasted, you can't do without? But indeed, from appetizers to liqueurs, everything is to be savored voluptuously. Take, for example, a gem like "Act Like You Know," so flavorful it literally makes the taste buds sing (dan-da-dee-da, dan-da-dee-da-dee-da!!!). There's little to say, "It's like that." It seems incredible, but although the number of courses is quite high, no matter how full I feel, I wouldn't forgo a crumb of this succulent feast. Rather, I'd invite the hosts to continue "On and On." And should we accompany it with random Lil Wine? There’s no danger; the duo's cellar ("The Basement") offers a vintage Heavy D and a (v)InI of excellent quality. Then there are the desserts, a category for which I've always felt "Lots of Lovin."
How funny. I've been here praising the refinement and good taste only to realize towards the coffee killer that "If ain't Rough, It ain't Right." But who cares. As we enjoyed the shot and closing time approaches, I gladly stick around for a brief chat about the girls (I think they call them "Skinz" around here). If their cheerful friend (a certain Grand Puba) joins the conversation, all the better. Well, I guess it's time to go. If the experience has positively impressed you, why not come back to visit Pete and Smooth? Maybe next time they'll reveal what "The Main Ingredient" is.
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