w U Tf The Michigan Daily--Sunday, F+ Page 2-Sunday, February 17, 1980-The Michigan Daily poetry Eat to the Beat the black bouquet aftermath bouquets of children, long hospital gardens, blackened petals yellow shadows, melted vistas, ravished rosebuds, unopened mornings, napalmed eyelids Twilight tolled hard as I pressed do 4n the dank streets, factory and alley zigzagged by in long silence, a hippie, her little girl drag- ging approached to beg. Clusters of youths idling here and there. I see it from afar, the drunks splayed on the benches, garbage cans dancing in front of the once proud Episcopal church. I tiptoe by as they sputter anchored in their stupor, slip inside the tall black ga tes open only to know- ing eyes. Quietly I wade through the stalks of nature's muffling debris past J.P.'s grave and last weeks' flowers. The stone breath of a shrouded world chills until up the stairs into the turret, the "group" circled for the poetry workshop. Ted Ber rigan was shuffling his notes, a crowd tense to hear their own torn later. "Did you hear Ginsberg was robbed a- gain last night?" There was a housewife still trying inbetween the No-Doz, a staunch business man writing like J.P. shocked at the rest of us On Sunday afternoons, the tourists taxi by St. Mark's to see J.P., flit away when they see the A peek in the reCjpe boxes of a trio of l ocal eateries and bums the Some into jazz servi what it's book ought poets J.P. ORGANpeek 1837-1913 the Lce in the nave, shake their heads at all coming to and whisper how a guide- to warn a body about places like this ti on n Ono o 0 0 0000 00 0 01 0 0 0 0 000 000\ 0 It o 0 00 01 0 00 00o 00 0 a By Katie Herzfeld M Y LAST FOOD column, a history of chocolate, was written begrudgingly. I love food - chocolate especially - and to share meals and conversation with friends who also en- joy eating. I love to savor chocolate and other delicacies in what Julia Child calls "gluttonous solitude." But I had no enthusiasm for that article on chocolate. I mean, who cares about the stuff when it costs 13 per cent more than it did last year and the Soviets are in- vading Afghanistan? - I began working on this column with the same reluctance. But after talking with the cooks and owners of Seva, Krazy Jim's, and Dominick's, my at- titude has changed. Fran Longnecker, Jim Shafer, Chris Gunderman and Dominick DeVarti are restaurateaurs of the highest order. They care about the products they sell and the people they serve - which, in this day of theme restaurants that market pre- fabricated food, is awfully unusual. Americans have come to enjoy par- ticipating in the pretentiousness of "destination restaurants" - those whose decor contributes more to the menu's price than the food served. We have grown dependent on McDonalds and other chains merely because their products are predictable. As Chris suggested, "You can walk into a filling station restaurant like McDonald's, ask for three dollars worth please, and predict the package." We grab for potato chips before an apple - which might be bland or mushy. For their un- pretentiousness as well as their com- mitment to fresh ingredients, Seva, Krazy Jim's, and Dominick's are to be celebrated. Fran Longnecker offered me her recipe box while we talked in the war- mly decorated dining room at Seva where she is head cook. In a business known for guarding its secrets, that's exceptional. Owned by Steve Bellock since 1973, Seva is known for its vegetarian cuisine. Its popularity with both the student and business sectors of Ann Arbor reflects its comfortable at- mosphere. The waitri are gracious, not ingratiating. And the over-used restaurant decor of classical music and hanging plants manages in this case not to be trite. Longnecker's interest in food stems from a job she had at Briarwood's World Harvest. The man she worked with had been trainedmat Schoolcraft College in Detroit. "He really inspired me," Fran says. "A good cook," she believes, "has Katie Herzfeld is a member of the Daily Arts Staff, to know vegetables and spices. He or she must respond to the living relation- ship between them. And then the crea- tivity comes from within." " "I'd like to say that we make everything from scratch for ideological reasons," laughs Chris Gunderman of Krazy Jim's, the restaurant she par- tners with Jim Shafer. "But pre-fab food is expensive. It takes me eight more hours a week to make my own pies. But it compensates. I know what goes into them, the customers are get- ting a better deal because they taste better, and I'm making something on them now. Besides, I like to bake." Since 1953, when he opened the restaurant, Jim has been making "blimpy burgers" from meat he grinds himself. Chris joined him four years ago after answering a help wanted ad. "We're a staff of life restaurant," they say. "People can sustain themselves on our food for little money." Chris laughs again. "I just thought of something funny. Last week a kid came in with his mother - he wanted to show her that he eats healthy even though he doesn't eat at home. And then a few days ago a guy cancelled his order of french fries and took cole slaw instead because, he said, he hadn't had a vegetable in ten days." IM POURED himself another cup of coffee, admittedly fatigued from his 60 to 70 hour weeks. "Our customers really are fine people," he says. They'll volunteer to help us out when we're busy. And maybe only a half dozen people in a week won't clear their table after eating." He believes that their food and personal service reflects as much on their customers as it does on them - as it does with any restaurant. "One of the things I like about this place," Chris says, "is that I hold the person's sandwich in my hand and ask, 'What would you like on it? How about a little onion - just try a little onion.' And they'll try it and sometimes they'll like it. Jim's always getting people to try an egg on their burger." " "What makes a good restaurant?" Without hesitation, Dominick DeVar- ti, the owner of the cafe on Monroe an- swers, "the customers." A sort of neighborhood pub for the law school's construction workers, ar- tists, students, professors - even classes, Dominick's was originally built at the turn of the century as a grocery store. In the 1920's, houses that were on the property where the law school now resides were moved away and the quad was built. During the Second World War, the store sold sandwiches. "It was like a deli," DeVarti explains. i1i@3 */1[[8IIIgo o~a3 1090 flh!8po 000800000o683368008 !) 308001atm OShei D0i]ejJI ujo iL 1111T10111111111110;111111111 01111 1u0 1111111 111111111111 1111111111111111111111 i 2!2202222 devour its young says nietzsche the revolution doth de 222222222222 33333333330 your its young says nietzsche the revolution doth devo 3333!j3_131333 4 204 4 4 4 4 4 4 4 ur its young peanuts ten cents a bag says nietzsche do. 4 4 40,14 4 4 4 u44 5SU o55595th devour its young for ten cents a bag the revolution55555.55550s5 Si s 6 6 s6o6 6 6 is ten cents a bag doth devour nietzsche says peanuts 136 6 6 6 6 6 6 6 6 6 6 1 3113 3131 3113a1 1 83881363a1688111II1688885 J38181188111688818311115338aa13 131 99311 ILIS 9 a "9999 9 e 9119999 9!J!19 s s a99 e 999999991 3 1119 1s s 9J0 99119 t 4 23Si 1 's 1 U 0 a a a o a11 an a 21112 2 i 1 n 2 1 3 1 3 3 in a e a e 1 0 4 e a e a a a a a a S S e e a t i a s a n a n a 1 1 I n 1 a u SAQO" We Quaffing beers from the traditional Mason jar a trio of workers enjoy the warm character of Don In 1959, Dominick bought the building, then empty, from its second owner. "I wasn't doing anything and the building was deteriorating," he says. "I started out front, selling piz- zas." Meanwhile, he reconstructed the rest of the building. Getting a beer license in 1972 was the necessary plug that has made Dominick's a "solid meeting place. - "This is the hardest business to be in," DeVarti claims. "I've got to be the maintenance man, the pur- chaser . . . This place isn't large enough to designate the work to others. There's no labor market since this is a university town, and the turnover is tremendous. People usually work only a semester at a time." But DeVarti undoubtedly loves the place he has created, or, rather, the relaxed atmosphere that he has allowed his customers to create. "These people don't need to be entertained with a jukebox or anything. They entertain themselves," he claims. In regard to the opportunities for poetry readings and chamber music at the cafe (and at the British-style wine cellar in the basement which is in formation), Dominick says, "the kids tell me what they want. I let them feel like it's their own place - within reason, naturally." " The following recipes are among the most popular from Seva, Jim's, and Dominick's. Don't be intimidated by the quantity or lack of specific measurements. You can't really fail in cooking unless you burn something or add too much salt. As Chris says, "Just don't be scared." donSor s e A pple Crisp This recipe was developed at Seva with contributions from waitri and a short order cook. Printed here as Fran Longnecker makes it - in mass quan- tity - it can be broken down easily. Quartering the recipe will make two quarts of apple crisp and serve eight people generously-. 24 apples sliced thin 4 c raisins 4 c sunflower seeds juice of 4 lemons 7 T. cinnamon 4 c honey Mix these spread in p 8 c rolled o 4 c powder 4 c whole w 3 lbs. butte Mix dry i combine w apple mix. Serve warn Simple as is her most once even it, saying, two days recipe!" carrots, pe equal amo mayor -salt freshly gro pinch suga raisins chopped w Estimating the ingredi L These deli' addicts. Tt Dominick For the c crust that egg. (Ann the first Epicure i rich). Roll Cut into square froj old woode paint first the pastr3 still on the til it turns oil and all from tube. Fill with: ricotta che sugar vanilla or chocolate chopped cE Mix the in increasing These poems are taken from Dance of Life, a collection of poetry from Anne-Marie Brumm. Brumm was a graduate student of Comparative Literature at the University, and in 1973 she won two major Hopwood awards for poetry. She has also won the Bain-Swiggett Prize for tradi- tional and metered verse. Dance of Life was published in 1979, by the Parisian Les Heures- Silencieuses. Brumm is currently an instructor in the English Department of Kean College of New Jersey in Union, New Jersey.