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By: Jenna Dixon CHEF CHRIS & THE You can call yourself
a roadhouse, but that doesn’t make you one. On the other hand, the Northfield
Roadhouse could call itself the Automat, but it would still be a roadhouse. For
decades, the unassuming cinder block building on This is also a restaurant–see
Bix Engels’s review, p. 50- so plan on getting there early and hungry, and then stay for the band. Hell, I guess you could just move in. The waitresses won’t
mind. The night we went when it was March, wet and cold, our waitress warmly
called me “Hon.” At least I think she did. If she didn’t, she
was thinking it. I don’t believe
any designers were hired to work on the interior of the Northfield Roadhouse. There
are no shelves holding knickknacks and fake-old beer steins. There are no racks
of pretend books, nor do I recall any plants. No one stopped us and asked how
many were in our party. No one said, “I’ll be your server tonight.” People smoked and drank proudly. They
were loud. They looked as if they’d been living on the planet for longer
than nineteen years. Damn, it was refreshing. The man in charge of the
food was, as it turns out, the man we’d come to see play that Sunday night: Chef
Chris. Known throughout the The beef flowed, the place
got packed, and the dance floor filled up. Chef Chris threw it down. And when it got up, he threw it down again. My favorite song
is one of his own, “You’re going to Jail and Your Car Is Too.” (Bix likes it, too.) Chef’s a big guy with a scary goatee and some really nice clothes:
a showman in the truest sense. He formed this band in 2000 to explore
the boundaries of blues, punk, and country. Three years ago they won the eighteenth
annual International Blues Challenge in Chef Chris and the Nairobi
Trio are at the Northfield Roadhouse every Sunday night as well as Friday, July 22. |
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