Greetings from Trinec Czech Republic! I'm in my room at the Hotel Steel, which on the outside looks like a war-torn '70s modern communist building but on the inside has clean functional rooms and great espresso.

I've been in Europe since May 31, all over the place. I spent the first two weeks doing promotion for the new Anthrax record Worship Music (coming in October through Megaforce/RED/Sony....PLUG). Basically traveling from city to city doing interviews and photo shoots.12 hours a day, sometimes 14-16 hour days. Cry for me Suicide Girls!

London, Paris, Madrid, Milan, Helsinki, Stockholm and Oslo. It was a brutal schedule but the reaction to the new songs has been amazing!!!! I have an iPod with the new mixes on it and the writers get to hear them right before they sit down to talk to me. This is the way it's done in the world of stealing music my friends. No more advance CD's.

The instant reactions are great. It really makes me excited for all of you to hear it!!! It really feels like the press/media is hearing the songs the same way I hear them. They can hear all the energy and time and blood and sweat and hard work that we put into this record. The two years we spent writing and then the six months we spent recording were some of the toughest and best times I have ever had in Anthrax and listening back to the finished songs now I can say it was well worth it.

This new record is the best representation of our career that I could ever imagine and our new singer Dan Nelson sounds like he's been with us forever. We're playing the fuck out of these songs and to quote my buddy Patton Oswalt; "Playing them like we're going to jail tomorrow."

Anyway, wait until you hear this record. Worship Music is a fucking great metal record and it will be out on October 12.

After the two weeks of promo we started our summer tour in Estonia. It was our first time in Tallinn and we had a blast!! Found a killer bar called Hell Hunt and we drank a hellish amount of beer! Tried all the local Estonian brews and found them to my liking. My friend Renee offered to take me to a poker room but I was too drunk and thought it would be a bad idea to be playing with hardcore Estonians and Russians drunk.

The show in Estonia was great (even though it was raining really hard) and the new songs went over great. We've been playing three new ones; "Fight'em 'Til You Can't," "New Noise," and "Earth On Hell," and the reactions everywhere have been thrash-fucking-tastic.

We played the Metal Hammer Awards in London and that was a blast as well. Since then we've been in Paris, Luxembourg, Clisson France for Hellfest (which was amazing, best show of the tour so far), Bilbao Spain, Bologna Italy, Lucerne Switzerland (another gem), Zagreb Croatia and now Trinec, a sunny little town, not so much grim as it is plain, right near the Polish border. Somehow amongst all of that I've been eating OK as well.
Meal of the tour was at the Trattoria Marano outside of Bologna. All home-made, all delicious. The mascarpone dessert was the best thing I've ever had for dessert. I'd still be eating and drinking there if it wasn't for this damn tour schedule!

Oh, another highlight...at the Hellfest in France after our show I got to watch Heaven & Hell from the side of the stage and they were incredible. Ronnie Dio is metal perfection. He really is the best singer ever. And, getting to stand so close to Tony Iommi and Geezer Butler is so surreal. I know these guys and have had conversations with them and I know they are just normal guys but they INVENTED HEAVY METAL. It's like standing next to Gods.

That's it for now. More food and booze next time and more tour reports.

And don't forget to WORSHIP MUSIC!!!

Cheers,
Scott

PS RIP MJ. Besides the musical, dance and technical genius of the man, and the influence he's had on four decades of artists, Michael loved Zombies.
Cheers,
Scott

PSS Here's a cool blog from Andy Buchanan, pro photographer and Kiss lover. He's been out here with us.

Image: Hellfest in France. 40,000 maniacs make me fly. Photo by Andy Buchanan.



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Scott Ian is SuicideGirls' monthly Food Coma columnist. Click HERE for more of his musing on sustenance and libations. He plays guitar for revolutionary metal band Anthrax and also for Pearl.

Who wants to drink great wine and listen to Led Zeppelin?

Show of hands please.

If you have a soul, you just put your hands up.

I've talked about pairing music and booze before in this column and it's something I think about on a regular basis, as they are two of my favorite things in life. It's what I do, it's who I am and the two go together like nerds and Lost theorizing. Hey wait, that's me too.

A few months ago I was at dinner in LA with Joe Bastianich and Mario Batali and it turned into (as they always do) a late night Amaro session. It was a Friday night and I realized that the best Zeppelin cover band in the world, Six Foot Nurse was playing at Molly Malone's. I rousted a bunch of the crew out of their liquid-herb induced haze with promises of "I swear if you close your eyes IT IS Led Zeppelin." Now I'm going to have to ask you, the reader to take me at my word on this and if you ever have the chance to see the Nurse, take it.

We made it to Molly's in time to catch the last twenty minutes of the set and if memory serves, three seconds into The Ocean Joe turned around to me with huge eyes and said "Holy shit."

The rest of the evening was just piling on more wood to the already raging fire and before Joe left he said to me, "We have to do something with these guys, have to bring them to NYC and do something."

Joe being the man of his word that he is called me the next day and asked me if I thought the band would be interested in coming to NYC to do a show where he would pair wines with specific Zeppelin songs. He didn't have any other details other than the most important one, which was, let's do this.

Of course the band was excited about the opportunity to go to NYC and we worked it out where I would play a few songs with them as well. I was nervous about this because as strange as it may sound, other then "Rock N Roll," I didn't know any Zeppelin songs on guitar. Or, I didn't know any Zeppelin songs on guitar correctly. I've never sat around and learned Zeppelin. Crazy right? Well Nalle Colt (guitar player for The Nurse as well as Pearl) knows it all note for note so on one hand I knew that if I learned something wrong he could show me the right way to play it and on the other hand I was stressed because he knows it all note for note and I didn't want to come in to rehearsal like an idiot.

I woodshedded and learned "The Ocean," "Rock N Roll," "The Rover," "Whole Lotta Love" and "Heartbreaker." At rehearsal I learned "Good Times Bad Times" and then day of show learned "Tangerine" and "Since I've Been Loving You." After rehearsal I felt really good about where I was at with the songs and after Nalle showed me a couple of little Page-isms, I was ready to rock. The band sounded sick with the rhythm guitar.

We had a pre-show meeting at the Spotted Pig the night before, where we ate and drank for five hours and discussed how the show would run for fifteen minutes. That's pretty much how the whole week in NY went. Pearl and I would make one plan, like, "Let's stay in and be mellow tonight because we're super hungover" and that would turn into Joe texting me and saying, "Come into Del Posto for dinner. Please let me feed you. Pasta will heal your soul." How do you say no to that? So we go for dinner and that turns into Pearl and I and the Nurse guys in the private room at Del Posto drinking all night with Joe, Mario, Jay McInerney and NASCAR champion Jimmie Johnson. Weird, random and totally in context with my life. Jay and Jimmie were both really cool and Jay had some great Michael J. Fox stories (but those are for the book my friends, sorry). Jimmie said he'd take me out on the track and I plan on taking him up on it.

Anyway, I digress.

Show time at the City Winery, a killer new venue from the people that started the Knitting Factory. Live music, food and a wine program where you can make your own wine with help from an expert and with grapes flown in from the worlds best regions.

The show was oversold. Four hundred and change packed around tables. Six glasses in front of each person with a place mat explaining what each wine was and why it was paired with the accompanying song.

The show was being hosted by Joe and his buddies Mike Edison (ex-editor of High Times and Screw magazines) and David Lynch (a wine expert, not the Blue Velvet guy). If anyone can make the unlikely coupling of fine wine and rock music work, it would be these three eclectic mofo's. They all took turns on the mic explaining as best they could to the crowd how this evening came to be and even had the band kick into short five to ten second bits of songs to whet their appetites. I could tell the evening was going to be a success. Besides the obvious fact that the place was sold out, as soon as the band played the first five-second tease, the place went nuts. These people were starving for rock!! Lot's of mid to late 30's white whiteys that have the cash to drink well and would never go out to a rock show. They didn't even know they wanted this night and we gave it to them.

After Mike Edison described Zeppelin as like "the moment right before penetration" they introduced the first wine, Henriot Blanc de Blanc Champagne that was paired with "Immigrant Song." Try and think about the acidity of Champagne and then think of Plant wailing and Page's biting riff and it makes sense. Or it doesn't and it doesn't matter because you're drinking killer booze and getting your ass kicked by the Nurse. I can't remember all of the pairings as I was getting ready to play (I was to get up for the last pairing, Bordeaux and "Whole Lotta Love") and then I would stay up and we would play all the rest of the songs. There was a Chablis with "Misty Mountain Hop" which worked as the edgier notes of the Chablis (compared to the Champagne) matched Page's deliberate phrasing in Hop. Kashmir was paired with a Barolo and the wine, like the song both took their time to unfold their epic bodies.

By the time the six glasses of wine were finished the crowd was well oiled and when we kicked into "The Ocean," spontaneous dancing broke out all over the room. Amazingly, as buzzed as I was I didn't fuck up once. The energy got better and better with each song and "Rock N Roll" closed it out in true bombastic Zeppelin style. The reaction to the band was so overwhelming you would think these people really saw Led Zeppelin. Maybe it was all the great wine? We came back and encored with "Since I've Been Loving You" and said goodnight. After the show we "helped" Joe finish off some triple magnums of fine Bastianich vino.

It was an insanely decadent week. Being fed by Joe and Mario everyday is amazing and brutal at the same time. I swear I gained 190 pounds. I've been on tuna with oil and vinegar since.

Cheers,

Scott

PS The new Anthrax album, Worship Music, is currently being mixed by Dave Fortman.

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Scott Ian is SuicideGirls' monthly Food Coma columnist. Click HERE for more of his musing on sustenance and libations. He plays guitar for revolutionary metal band Anthrax and also for Pearl.

Ah spring, rebirth, the flowers are blooming and the air smells like orange blossom (well it does somewhere, here in NYC it smells like pee and exhaust) and the weather is getting good and an overwhelming sense of optimism grips me like Hellboy's fist.

I am an optimistic person by nature but for some reason right now it's on ten. I've got so many things coming to fruition right now, new Anthrax record, Pearl's debut record, my Lobo book for DC, kicking ass at poker on Ultimate Bet (I fucking won their 200K Sunday tourney two weeks ago can I get a fucking HELL YEAH!!!) and of course eating and drinking like a maniac. I love that word, maniac. It's hilariously descriptive. Willard Scott is a maniac. That just kills me.

One of the definitions of maniac is an obsessive enthusiast and I guess you can say that I am an obsessive enthusiast over everything I do so when I was approached to be a part of a wine pairing where wines are going to be paired with Led Zeppelin songs, I maniacally answered yes. The event is taking place in NYC on May 2 at City Winery, which is an amazing wine bar/restaurant/live music venue.

My friend Joe Bastianich (restaurateur, winemaker, guitar player and headbanger, he co-owns Babbo, Osteria Mozza, The Spotted Pig etc etc with Mario Batali) came up with this concept a few months ago and asked me what I thought about it. At that moment I realized Joe was a maniac like me and I told him I thought it was a great idea. I wasn't sure how he would pull it off but I loved his passion for it. To take Jimmy Page's riffs and figure out what wine would go best with let's say "Kashmir" or "Whole Lotta Love" was a leap only an obsessive enthusiast could make.

Well, he did it. He tried it out at a restaurant called Becco in NYC and the event sold out instantly. Now he's taking it up to another level and flying in the best Zeppelin cover band in the world, Six Foot Nurse from LA (as well as yours truly) to be a part of this one. They've paired six amazing wines with six Zeppelin songs. Joe and wine writer David Lynch are going to explain the reasons why each wine goes with each particular song and then The Nurse is gonna blow your head off.

You don't have to be a wine aficionado to understand that you're gonna get drunk on killer booze and hear the closest thing to Zeppelin circa '74. I am going to jam three songs with The Nurse as well and I expect it to be an amazing evening. Talk about your viticultural mash-up!! Click HERE for more info.

A couple of weeks ago I got invited to a wine tasting dinner at The Harrison in NYC thrown by my friend Evan Yurman. Evan's another maniac. A maniac about metal (actual metal, not musical metal), stones, design, wine, food and real muscle cars. He's got a Mustang with an 800HP NASCAR engine in it. It's louder than ten Harley's. When he starts it every car alarm in lower Manhattan goes off. It's the most evil looking car I've ever seen, all matte black. It makes Kurt Russell's car in Death Proof look like the Griswold's wagon in Vacation. The wine tasting was all California Cabs from 1987 which was a great year for those wines and now is the time to drink'em if you got'em.

Of the fifteen (!) wines poured my favorites were the Opus One which was really light, more Pinot-ish, the Heitz Martha's Vineyard which had hints of eucalyptus, berries and tobacco all making a really drinkable wine, the Abreu which even though it was corked still tasted great, the Joseph Phelps Insignia which had notes of coffee and chocolate and was super soft, my second favorite actually. My favorite wine of the evening was the Chateau Montelena. Perfectly balanced. I give it three sixes.

We drank some crazy old Cognac after all that wine and then went to the Brandy Library, a real fancy pants joint where they will ask you to leave if you order a Jack and Coke. I wouldn't order one but I was in a happy ball-busting drunken state and was tempted to ask for Southern Comfort or even better some Malibu. Someone in our party magically produced three bottles of Chateau Margaux and I did my best to finish it.

Wow was I hungover the next day. And the day after that. Sometimes you can have too much of a good thing.

All this talk is making me thirsty.

Off to the Spotted Pig for a pint of bitter.

Cheers,
Scott


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Scott Ian is SuicideGirls' monthly Food Coma columnist. Click HERE for more of his musing on sustenance and libations. He plays guitar for revolutionary metal band Anthrax and also for Pearl.

Twitter update 1 hour ago.

I wonder if any of my "followers" (does anyone find the term followers as creepy as I do?) will now check out Joe's Pizza in Santa Monica (and their almost to the tee thin crust NY style pizza). It's as close as you're going to get to such holy NYC Pizza institutions as Grimaldi's or Patsy's or Lombardi's or even Joe's NY location here on the West Coast. The mozzarella is fresh and the sauce is San Marzano sweet. I ate a whole fresh mozzarella pie the other night and four more slices cold the next day. Followers, I will not steer you wrong.

I've been reading about Joe's for a while now and have wanted to make the journey to Santa Monica but couldn't bring myself to get my lazy ass down there for pizza. How L.A. of me! Joe's is maybe six miles from my house but the idea of going to this strange exotic land known as Santa Monica is crazy! Do you need a passport to go there? Plus if I really want pizza I can just go to Mozza (different style, but still great pizza). Lucky for Santa Monica (and me) I started working at a studio there on the new Anthrax record and I'm right in the middle of all these heretofore mythical places that I could only dare to dream of visiting.

Joe's is one. The Counter is another. God damn I like The Counter. I like the whole process of going online to print a menu, building the burger, faxing it in, and then being rewarded with a sandwich. A really yummy sandwich whether it be beef, turkey, chicken or veggie. I've had them all, on buns and in bowls, with cranberries or old-school, I'm a burger building maniac. They claim there are 312,120+ combinations to be had so if I round up to 313,000 and eat there twice a day, I can try every combination in 428.7 years. Lucky for me I plan on being a vampire at some point (a vampire that eats burgers) so I'll be able to do this no worries. According to The Counter's website they are opening new franchises everywhere. I hope they aren't going to become the Starbuck's of burgers because I've got the next 428 years already planned out.

Last Tuesday was St. Patricks day so I did what every other black-blooded American did and found a place to drink Guinness. It's no secret that I'm a big fan of the black stuff. There was a group of us celebrating my lady Pearl signing her record deal and we wanted a place to go on St.Patrick's day that wouldn't be a sea of jerk-off frat boys and green puke. We ended up at the Chateau Marmont, which for my money is the best place in L.A. -- to stay or drink -- although it's usually filled with a whole different kind of douche.
The vibe of the room trumps the Hollywood douchebaggery for me though. Actually, sometimes the Hollywood idiocy adds to the occasion, like the time I threatened to take Lindsay Lohan's drinks after she got served after hours and I didn't. Wait, was I the idiot?? That's another story for another time.

The Chateau was slammed and the food took forever but it was all good as the Guinness kept coming. When my spaghetti bolognese showed up it was great. The pasta was cooked perfectly and the sauce had a perfect meat to sauce ratio and a slight kick (heat) on the end. I rolled (literally) out of there around 1:45 am, having gotten stuck with the bill as people kept showing up and leaving all night. Guinness makes me nice about that kind of stuff.

If you've got an occasion coming up, make a reservation at the Chateau for dinner. It's the sexiest place in town.

OK, back to work.

Cheers,

Scott

PS. I am having Joe's Pizza for dinner tonight.


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Scott Ian is SuicideGirls' monthly Food Coma columnist. Click HERE for more of his musing on sustenance and libations. He plays guitar for revolutionary metal band Anthrax and also for Pearl.

I'm literally just off the plane from London having just spent the last week there celebrating the release of the movie Anvil: The Story Of Anvil. My friend Sacha wrote and directed it and it's blowing up in the UK. It comes out here April 10th. You have to see it. It's an amazing story about two guys that made a pact at 14 to rock forever and they refuse to give up that dream in the face of the most brutal situations a band can deal with. It's truly an amazing film and it will move you. For more info go to AnvilMovie.com.

On the food front I didn't get to do too much exploring as I was on a crazy schedule but I did get to go to Nobu with Pearl on Valentine's Day and it was as usual, flawless. They were serving these martini's that were excellent and I got the recipe that I will share with you at the end of the article. Invite a lady/man over and pull these out of your ass and they'll definitely do the trick.

We spent two days in Glasgow with our friends Andy and Fiona who just had a baby. Fiona owns a gourmet delicatessen/restaurant called Heart Buchanan and they make the best BLT on the planet. It's doing them a disservice to only talk about the BLT as they have a whole shop full of incredible food, but that BLT is from another planet!! Andy is also a great cook and he makes the French onion soup from Les Halles in NYC better than they do. We had a great dinner of that aforementioned onion soup and roast chicken at their house and spent the night plowing through Italian and Spanish wine. I don't get to eat in like that very often and when I do it makes me realize how much I miss that experience, food, wine, friends and fucking hilarity 'til sunrise. Can't beat it.


Above: The best BLT on the planet.

We got back to London and had a day to walk around the food halls at Harrods. If you've never done that, you must. They have everything you can ever imagine that can be eaten and it's all the best quality. I always buy the Salami di Tartufo (truffle salami) and I also bought a Spanish Chorizo. They vacuum pack those suckers and then you pray that customs doesn't snatch them from you. What a bummer that would be to think of some customs agent eating a big fat truffle salami sandwich, or worse, throwing it out!! I got'em in and I'm eating them as I type.

Of course I drank pints of bitter to excess. Before we went to London we were in NY for a week. Anthrax played an event for Red Bull called Snow Scrapers. They built a ten-story ramp for Shaun White and others to hurl themselves off and then we closed the event. It was cool to play with NYC as our backdrop and to get a minute out of the studio. We had Chuck D come up and do "Bring The Noise" with us. Chuck is the man.

In NY I met up with my buddy Joe Bastianich (he's Mario Batali's partner in all the restaurants) at his restaurant Del Posto for a drink and that drink turned out to be a 1949 Chateau LaTour. Jo had some wine collector buddies in the house eating and they offered it to us. When the sommelier brought the glasses over Joe asked him if it was "on" and the reply was, "It's on." I've never had anything even close to a 60 year old world class Bordeaux like this before and I savored it. I'm basically ruined on red wine now. How do I drink anything else after that? Stupid old Bordeaux! Why hast thou ruined me???? It was by far the best thing I've ever drank.

After getting my mind blown by the LaTour I had dinner next door at Joe's new spot The John Dory. It's a casual fish restaurant with A-list fish. If you go make sure you get the grilled octopus with celery, fennel and bottarga and the seared squid stuffed with chorizo. We had a group of five and we almost ordered everything on the menu and everything was great!

We hit the Spotted Pig while we were in NY as well and I'd have to say it's become my favorite place to go out. The combination of the food, killer hand-pulled beers and atmosphere make it the perfect place for me. It's the perfect pub. Get the dnudi and the 'devils on horseback' and six pints of Old Speckled Hen. Do it.

Cheers,
Scott
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Scott Ian is SuicideGirls' monthly Food Coma columnist. Click HERE for more of his musing on sustenance and libations. He plays guitar for revolutionary metal band Anthrax and also for Pearl.

Before I get into this months food shenanigans I'd just like to wish all of you a happy new year. It's already Jan 16. Maybe when Obama takes office he can do something about this time flying issue. I am excited and hopeful for the new administration. Obama is taking the job at a time which is, at least in my lifetime, the worst I can remember. Imagine if he sets things right? Or at least makes things better? One can hope right?

Another huge personal thing for me this month is the anniversary of the release of my first album Fistful Of Metal in 1984. Twenty-five years. It's hard for me to process that (time flying again). I co-founded this band with Danny Lilker in 1981 so in July it will be twenty-eight years of Anthrax for me. Who does anything for twenty-eight years?? Count the bands that have been around that long and are still making valid records and touring. It's a short list. I would have to say my "career" in heavy metal is my proudest accomplishment. Twenty-eight years of doing what I love. Can't beat that. And the album is coming along great, vocals almost done and it should be blasting your ears in June.

I was going to write an Xmas themed holiday column as I didn't get to before Xmas and over the holidays I was ruminating quite a bit on my life, my career, the holidays etc. and I remembered this event that was holiday related -- albeit Passover holiday related. So lets hearken back to a simpler time circa 1970-71. Time machine on.....

For all accounts and purposes, I shouldn't be the fan that I am of seafood. Even against a myriad number of reasons I find myself having no problem eating a shrimp head or puffer fish or any other strange thing from the sea that "extreme eater" Andrew Zimmern would eat (if I eat Tuna balls do I get my own show too?). I'm a Jew, and it's in my genetic makeup to hide like a Vampire from the sun from shellfish and besides the religious thing, seafood can kill you. Is that reason enough to not eat it? How about the fact that if you saw something that looked like a crab or lobster skittering across your kitchen floor when you turned on the lights you'd do nothing short of napalming the monstrosity.

As a kid my practicing Jewish friends would tell me horror stories about an uncle that died from a bad clam or a neighbor that got gout from a bad piece of fish. I didn't need my hypocritical shrimp cocktail eating at Bar Mitzvahs friends to tell me about the dangers of Oysters, those stories would make national news. "On tonight's nightly news with David Brinkley American troops pull out of Saigon and man that lived next door to somebody that knows Scott Ian in Bayside, Queens died from what was apparently a tainted oyster."

We used to go to my grandfather's house for the Passover holidays. Before my grandparents moved to Florida they lived in Queens as well and my memories of their house are of small dark oppressive rooms and plastic slipcovers. My grandfather was a strict Orthodox Jew and Passover was a long dark day of standing and sitting and standing and sitting and lots of oldies speaking Hebrew and my brother and I doing everything we could to sneak a piece of Matzoh without any of the Passover Nazi's catching us. On one of those long days we arrived at their house early so my parents could help out and my brother and I could suffer even longer than usual. We didn't even get the payoff of the hide the Matzoh game that all of our friends got. If it wasn't in my grandfather's seder book -- it wasn't part of Passover so there was no money exchanging hands.

On that day we got there early I was roaming around the upstairs of the house unattended exploring the mysteries of these people from Poland and Russia and I walked into a bathroom and I noticed that the tub was full of water. As I got closer to the full tub, my curiosity piqued as to why there was an old bathtub filled with water I could hear my grandfather saying, "Such a waste all this water, take a bath anyway!" This bath wasn't for me though as I looked over the edge of the tub to see a fish kind of swimming around in the tub. To say that I was surprised would be an understatement. To this day it's one of the seminal moments of my life. There was a long weird fish alive in my grandfather's bathtub. The eight year old me was extremely excited and I ran downstairs to ask about my grandparent's new pet. "Grandpa, grandpa, there's a fish in the bathtub!" And then to my horror, "Of course there's a fish in the bathtub, it's the pike for the gefilte fish."

In the dim recesses of my brain I can remember standing there confused at this statement. Pike for the gefilte fish? In your gross tub that you bath in upstairs? And then I thought about all the previous times I ate gefilte fish in that house and I think I swooned a bit. Guess who didn't eat the gefilte fish that day. It was hard enough watching everyone at the table shoveling it into their mouths and talking with mouthfuls of bathtub pike. I get gaggy just thinking about it.

You, or actually I would think that a moment like that would put me off fish forever. Tub fish -- yes. Fish from the ocean, lake, stream, river whatever -- no problem. If I could eat one type of food everyday (and afford it) I'd have Nobu Matsuhisa make me breakfast lunch and dinner.

Cheers,
Scott
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Scott Ian is SuicideGirls' monthly Food Coma columnist. Click HERE for more of his musing on sustenance and libations. He plays guitar for revolutionary metal band Anthrax and also for Pearl.

It’s that time of year again can you believe it? How the hell is it Christmas already?? I know I say that every year but damn, time really flies when you’re having fun.

I’ve been in the studio working on the new Anthrax album since November 4. The drums, bass and rhythm guitars are done (I just finished up 19 tracks of blistering rhythms a few nights ago) and the vocals started in NYC today. So far we are right on schedule and it’s sounding REALLY FUCKING GREAT. We should be mixing at the end of January and soon after that giving birth to a really pissed off, loud, fast and heavy child.

Being that it is the end of the year it’s time for my year end favorites in music, movies, TV, and of course food. 2008 was a strange year for me music-wise because I have spent all year writing and then going into the studio so I wasn’t as involved in “the scene” or staying up to date with the ever growing world of metal as I usually would be. I really have been living in a cave as they say.

I based my favorite album choices on what I listened to the most on my iPod and iTunes when driving or flying or working out or sitting around the house. It makes it really easy because it gives you the play counts so you know how many times you listened and when. I love technology.
OK, here are my lists:

Favorite Albums (in no specific order):

— Muse – HAARP
— Toxic Holocaust – An Overdose Of Death
— Metallica – Death Magnetic
— AC/DC – Black Ice
— Death Angel – Killing Season
— Testament¬ – The Formation Of Damnation
— Bloc Party – Intimacy
— Slipknot – All Hope Is Gone

Favorite Live Gigs:

— AC/DC at the Forum, Los Angeles (possibly the best show I have ever seen)
— Tenacious D at Reading Festival
— Metallica at Reading Festival
— Van Halen at Mandalay Bay Las Vegas
— Iron Maiden at Verizon Amphitheater Los Angeles

Favorite TV:

— Lost (Season 5)
— The Shield (Season 7)
— Battlestar Galactica (Season 4)
— The Office
— Dexter

Favorite Movies:

— The Dark Knight
— Iron Man

(I barely went to the movies this year and I plan on catching up on DVD and yes I know, Slumdog Millionaire is great and I have to see it.)

Favorite Food:

— The whole chicken and fries at Publican, Chicago. Seriously, I’ve written about this before and a day doesn’t go by without me craving it.

— Maccheroni alla Chitarra con Bottarga at Babbo, NYC. Best pasta dish ever.

— The oysters at Blue Ribbon, NYC.

— The fried chicken at Blue Ribbon, NYC.
I like Blue Ribbon. I like chicken.

— The Gnudi at The Spotted Pig, NYC.
Little magical cheese pillows.

— Devil’s On Horseback at The Spotted Pig, NYC.
What are Devil’s On Horseback? They’re fucking assholes they’re so good, that’s what they are. (Bacon wrapped dates.)

— The grilled Octopus at Osteria Mozza, LA.

— A cheeseburger from the Apple Pan, LA

— A cheeseburger from In-N-Out, California

— A cheeseburger from the Shake Shack, NYC
(Why have one favorite cheeseburger when you can have 3???)

— Epoisses on raisin date toast with quince paste form the cheese selection at BLD, LA.

— The NY Strip at David Burke, Chicago

— The fresh ricotta and egg raviolo at Osteria Mozza, LA

— Blueberry pancakes and bacon at John O’Groats, LA

— The smoked salmon and scrambled eggs put back into the shell at the Park Café, San Jose Costa Rica

— The calamari at House Of Nanking, SF

— The oysters and the chowder at Swan Oyster Depot, SF

And finally……

— The whole meal I had at Schwa in Chicago. Michael Carlson is a madman/genius creating dishes that I could never hope to explain. I can only say that the meal he served us that night was the best meal I’ve ever had.

That’s that for 08. Here’s to a killer 09.
Happy holidays.


Cheers,
Scott
www.anthrax.com
www.myspace.com/scottian
www.ultimatebet.com/scott-ian/?ubAffilID=73329
www.nonelouder.com


Scott Ian is SuicideGirls' monthly Food Coma columnist. Click HERE for more of his musing on sustenance and libations. He plays guitar for revolutionary metal band Anthrax and also for Pearl.

Acknowledging you have a problem is the first step to recovering from addiction. I know I have a problem, this addiction has put my priorities all out of whack, I'm obsessed with it and it's become an all-consuming demon taking control of my life.

And what is my poison?

Chicken.

The best chicken ever. Chicken that will change your life. Chicken that's better than the chicken at L'Ami Louis in Paris. Chicken that's more important than a speech by the new president-elect (more on that later). Chicken that you just have to have morning noon and night. Crack chicken. If Angelina Jolie was chicken it wouldn't be as good as this chicken. What does that even mean? You see, I'm going insane from this chicken.
Chicken so good it must be made by wizards AND baby Jesus.

And where do Gandalf and the infant savior conjure this magical culinary creation? At a restaurant called Publican in Chicago. Damn you wizards!!!!!!!

If you're from Chicago or know anything about food in this town then you'll know that the grand wizard of food in these parts is Donnie Madia. Donnie has created a scene unto itself with his restaurant trifecta of Avec, Blackbird and now Publican. All three of these restaurants are good enough to be considered the best place in town and each one has it's own innate sense of style and functionality, and, most importantly, at each one the food is the focus. Simple ingredients cooked to perfection, ergo the chicken I am drooling over as I type. When someone can take something as simple as a whole chicken and turn it into a dish that is impossibly good -- that's magic. And, it's reasonably priced.

I flew into town Tuesday night, right into the maelstrom of excitement over Obama's win. It was certainly an historic occasion to be in Chicago for, and to be at the celebration being held in Grant Park would be something to tell your kids about. I entertained the thought of blowing out my dinner reservation at Publican to go see Obama speak for about half a second and then my chicken addiction kicked in and the crew and I headed over to Publican so we could get our fix. You see? It's fucking insane that I didn't go see Obama speak on the night of his historic win. I couldn't. I had to eat. What the hell has happened to my priorities? Maybe I'll call my agent and see if she can get me on Celebrity Rehab next season. Help me Dr. Drew!

Cheers,
Scott

PS. The fries that they serve the chicken on top of are insane as well.


www.myspace.com/scottian
www.anthrax.com
www.ultimatebet.com/scott-ian/?ubAffilID=73329

Scott Ian is Suicide Girls’ monthly Food Coma columnist. Click HERE for more of his musing on sustenance and libations. He plays guitar for revolutionary metal band Anthrax and also for Pearl.

“Beer, the cause of and solution to, all life’s problems.”

That quote is from one of the world’s most famous philosophers; Homer…Simpson. And who better to take advice from? If I would’ve known this as a teenager life would have been so much easier!

My relationship with booze is an odd one. In the throes of my youth, booze was what my mom drank before she would turn into the Wolf Man and break my G.I. Joe stuff and howl at the world. She’s since worked all of that out and we get along fine. Love you mom!

As a post-Bar Mitzvah now you’re a man without a clue (with that never-been-shaved dirty upper lip) at 14 in NYC in the 70’s, my first forays into drinking were clumsy and strange. My friends and I would forage through our parent’s liquor/drug supplies and imbibe on the city bus at eight in the morning on the way to school.

There would be crappy weed (although at the time what did we know?) and some idiot would always bring cough medicine with codeine or a random pill. I stayed away from this stuff. I later found out that the pills were Quaaludes. The real Rorer 714 Ludes of legend. I never tried one because the guys that were taking pills were already known as the “burn-outs.” 14-15 year-olds sleepwalking through junior high listening to the Dead was way to mellow for me man.

The booze usually showed up in a Tupperware container. I would steal my moms Chivas Regal and pour it into a plastic salad bowl and put it in my backpack. Drinking straight Scotch at eight in the morning on a bumpy city bus packed with kids from vinegar-scented Tupperware was the perfect way to teach me not to drink.

The few times I tried beer, good’ol brands like Rheingold and Schlitz. It tasted like the dank smell of the old-man bars in my neighborhood where the fathers of my friends would drink from their failure mugs until it was time to go home and be dad. And by “be dad” I mean pass out on the couch in a dirty wife-beater (literally) and don’t make any fucking noise or you’ll catch a serious beating!!!

Yay beer! I tasted all that from just a few sips. My palate was very advanced even at such a young age. On my eighteenth (that was the legal age then) birthday I drank so many Screwdrivers (Popov vodka and Tropicana) I puked on the girl I was making out with, puked all over my friend Richie’s bathroom and ended up with alcohol poisoning.

“An intelligent man is sometimes forced to be drunk to spend time with his fools.”
Ernest Hemingway

I spent the rest of the 1980’s sober. So when I say my relationship is an odd one it’s because I started my band Anthrax in 1981 and through all those formative and then insane years, I wasn’t drinking. People think I must have been out of my mind back then when it was the absolute opposite. I wasn’t straight-edge by any means, I just didn’t like booze. All of my friends in other bands were maniacal drinkers and once in a while I would have a few drinks, mainly the far superior beers, when we were on tour in Europe, but it would always end up with me feeling like ass. I didn’t see the upside.

In the early nineties I drank socially, weak tasteless vodka drinks that did nothing more than give me a headache and acid reflux. I tried the martini thing. That ended badly and gin holds a grudge. Hanging out in NYC clubs, that were then the Tao’s, Pure, and Bungalow 8’s of today, it was a time filled with superficial experiences of the highest order and I never made any connection to going out and drinking and actually having fun. I just didn’t get booze. And then the epiphany…

“There can’t be good living where there is not good drinking.”
Ben Franklin

In 1993 we had a tour manager named Michael “Curly” Jobson who was a wine aficionado. He introduced me to the first alcoholic beverage that tasted like I always imagined it should taste. White Burgundy. Pouilly-Fuisse to be exact. It tasted exciting, arousing, fresh, timeless, and, most importantly, it tasted good. Wine to me was Manischewitz Extra Heavy Malaga. Wine was something to be tolerated at Passover to keep my grandfather happy. Not any more. Curly opened the door for me into a new world and I never looked back.

I dove into wine headfirst. I learned by drinking. Burgundy, Bordeaux and Riesling. Expanding my palate I crossed the sea to California and drank my way through Napa and Sonoma, finding a particular affection for Pinot noir (makes sense considering it was Burgundy that started it). I crossed the ocean again and started an affair with Italian reds that still burns red-hot today. Would it be too much to name my first-born Gaja? I lost my soul to a bottle of 1989 Chateau d ‘Yquem. Sauternes were truly baby angel’s tears gathered by wizards. There’s no other explanation.

From wine I moved into beer, discovering the glory of Guinness which, when properly poured, is all that is right in the world in a glass.

My next epiphany came in 1997 when Anthrax and Pantera toured together. Pantera were the opposite of what Anthrax was drinking-wise. These guys were notorious drinkers on a level frequented by few and survived by fewer. Their drummer Vinnie Paul had (and still has) a swimming pool in the shape of a Crown Royal bottle. The hot tub is the top and the bottom of the pool is painted exactly like a Crown Royal label except it says “the official drink of Vinnie Paul.” Commitment.

Crown was the drink of choice and they created a shot called the Black Tooth Grin. Shot of Crown, splash of Coke. When you were with Pantera you drank. You drank Black Tooth’s. Their guitar player Dimebag Darrell, bless his amazing soul, would pour them ten at a time and had a litany of rules that went along with drinking them, the most important being “drink it or wear it.”

I was not a whisky drinker. Nor was I a whisky wearer, so it was a bit of a conundrum for me. Spirits were not my thing. I considered myself a wine snob and above the rabble of cheap booze.

Not for long. The first Black Tooth went down so easy and the next 7000 or so on that tour even easier. I came home after two months of Bukowskian excess (without the whores and ponies), dried out for a week and started my courtship with whisky. Crown Royal quickly gave way to the best small-batch bourbons and single-malt Scotch’s, although I still get my pull on a Black Tooth frequently.

“I feel sorry for people who don’t drink. When they wake up in the morning, that’s as good as they’re going to feel all day.”
Frank Sinatra

As I sit here typing this I’m sipping a Ron Zacapa 23 year-old rum from Guatemala. It goes down like melted butter with honey and it will fuck you up.

“They talk of my drinking but never my thirst.”
Scottish proverb

Over the last eleven years my palate has made friends with all booze (except gin, oh why do you mock me so gin??) and I’m always on the hunt for something new. I’ve been on a crazy Amaro kick of late. It’s like Jager and absinthe but it tastes nicer and the blackouts add so much excitement!!

Don’t drink and drive my friends.
Cheers,
Scott

www.myspace.com/scottian
www.anthrax.com
www.ultimatebet.com/scott-ian/?ubAffilID=73329

Scott Ian is Suicide Girls’ monthly Food Coma columnist. Click HERE for more of his musing on sustenance and libations. He plays guitar for revolutionary metal band Anthrax and also for Pearl.

It’s 12:30 AM Friday morning July 18 and I find myself in Gelsenkirchen, Germany.

Gelsenkirchen.

Home of… um, home of nothing that I know of and I’m too lazy to Google it. Take my word for it, it’s quiet. Even the pub in the hotel was dead except for the one drunk guy that stared at us for a minute and then burped AT us. Seriously, he burped at us like he was throwing something at us. Then he grabbed the waitress’s ass and yelled a lot.

Still, it’s very quiet here; too quiet after the raucous insanity that was Sligo, Ireland.

If you’ve ever read this column before then you probably know I have an affinity for the black stuff. A pint of Guinness in Ireland is as close to perfection on earth as it gets. It can’t be done better. It can’t be improved upon. The only anomalies are the temperature (sometimes it can be too cold) and the pour (most places don’t do it right). A proper pour is to fill the glass about three quarters of the way and then let it settle (when it’s solid black with a creamy head) and then fill the rest of the way slowly so the head just makes a slight dome over the top edge of the glass. It should take about two minutes. Then it takes another minute to settle. As far as I have experienced, the two anomalies I mentioned don’t exist in Ireland.

My first proper Guinness was in 1986 at the Gresham Hotel in Dublin. I went straight to the bar with my bags and ordered from the barman. I didn’t know anything about pouring Guinness then so when he stopped pouring three quarters of the way I thought he was fucking with me, the stupid American. I waited a minute and then ignorantly asked him if there was a problem with the tap and he said, “Sonny, a proper pour takes at least two minutes.” He wasn’t being condescending, and I didn’t take it that way. I sat there all afternoon and drank, probably over compensating for my faux pas and to this day I go have a Guinness at the Gresham every time I am in Dublin.

I had been looking forward to two days off in Dublin since we got these Pearl tour dates supporting Meat Loaf. Days off are like precious stones and to have two days in Dublin is like winning the lottery. The plan was we would stay in Sligo for the show in Bundoran, which is on the west coast and then drive to Dublin to spend two days bowing to the Phil Lynott statue outside the Bruxelles Pub, Guinness in hand. Ah, the best laid plans…

The show in Bundoran got postponed a day due to technical problems with the tent/stage. Basically the whole thing was gonna come crashing down and the promoter needed another day to get it right. The weather was fierce, raining sideways and this circus tent was not going to hold up. They were also going to try and squeeze 6000 people into a space that maybe held 3000. The whole thing was a mess and on top of it we lost our days in Dublin. Wah, wah. Cry for me; it’s such a sad story.

I’m not one to dwell on the negative and it was my first time on the west coast of Ireland so Sligo it was!! The Guinness fight had begun.

We ended up spending three nights in the hotel bar, each night progressively better (or worse) drinking the black stuff. It was a 72-hour cacophony of Guinness and whisky (Powers and Jameson Black Tooth Grins!) and bad singing and swords and metal and fish and chips and more Guinness.

When I woke up today to fly to Germany I was in a zone, in some strange yet familiar and friendly place. I felt like I was walking backwards when I was going forwards. Everything was a little out of focus and for a moment everything was right with the world. Maybe it was the sea air of the beautiful west coast, or maybe it was being in such close proximity to the mighty Ben Bulben (it’s a huge mountain/rock with a head like the Juggernaut), or maybe it was from my dinner the night before that had three different kinds of potatoes (mashed, fried and a side of mashed) on the plate, or maybe it was the really drunk and pissed off guy that I drank with who told me his opinions of Americans had changed for the better after spending some time with us, or maybe it was being with friends and sharing it all.

Maybe it was all of that or maybe it was the Guinness.

It is good for you. The ad says so. Truth in advertising is a wonderful thing.

Getcha’ pull!!

Cheers,
Scott




Scott Ian plays guitar for revolutionary metal band Anthrax and also for Pearl.

Artwork credit: Shepard Fairey

Previously on Food Coma... In-N-Out good, Olive Garden bad. Tiny little birds tortured for the gastronomic pleasure of the rich elite and some old Popes. Truffles are angel poop. Drunk on Amaro with Mario and Tom. The Oceanic Six have been revealed.

I have been traveling the world since we last met, out in the territories, your ever faithful servant, your gentleman at arms, hopscotching the globe, looking for the best the world has to offer! Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to another pulse-pounding edition of Food Coma.

Dateline London 24/3/2008: The Crown Pub
British beer is better than American beer. Is there anyone that this is news to? Bottom line, a properly pulled/poured pint of Fuller’s or any number of British lagers or ales is better than anything we drink here in the states. Of course a Guinness in Dublin is king shit of fuck mountain, and those crazy Belgian monks are universally known as the best conjurers of the hop, but I wasn’t just in Dublin or Belgium; I was in England, damn it, and the quality of the brew was fantastic. Here in the states you have to seek out specialty beer bars like Father’s Office here in Los Angeles, or DBA in New York City, to drink anything even close to what they’re serving in the local pub. Yes, there are fine micro/local breweries making amazing stuff here in the U.S. No argument. What I’m saying is, the average pint in the UK is just so much better than the crap Americans accept. I’m not going to go into a whole tirade against Anheuser-Busch and tell you why their product tastes like watery ass. I’m just going to tell you that 99% of beer is done wrong here and you should find out for yourself. Spend the extra $3 on a six-pack of something good. You deserve it. I’ll even recommend a great U.S. made ale for all you patriots: Arrogant Bastard Ale from Stone Brewing in San Diego. Big, bold, delicious and it’ll get you drunk a lot quicker than the pee you’re used to.

Dateline London 26/3/2008: Andy and Eric’s room at the K West
Post-show (on tour with Pearl opening for Velvet Revolver, for more on that go to www.myspace.com/pearl) meal at Tayyab’s in White Chapel. Possibly the best Indian food I’ve ever had. How can lentils taste this good? The fried paneer was addictive. The seekh kabab was the best I ever had. I’ve never had dry beef before and I don’t know where to find it in LA!!!! Even the basic chicken curry had a flavorful heat that gave my taste buds boners. God-damn-it the food was so good I’m pissed off. And for £10 that’s CHEAP for London.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the catering on the Velvet Revolver tour. Usually, in Europe bands will travel with catering and in general, UK caterers are good. It’s easy to get really fat on a UK/Euro tour when you’ve got someone cooking breakfast, lunch and dinner for you and then even making you sandwiches for the bus after the show. The VR caterers were a company called Eat Your Hearts Out and every meal was terrific. The Mulligatawny soup was amazing. Never had it? Go get Indian food right now. And Banoffee pie. Holy shit. Graham cracker crust, bananas, toffee and whipped cream. Go fuck yourself.

Dateline London 27/3/2008 in the wee hours
The K West hotel has vending machines with beer, airplane size liquor bottles and snacks. What will these Brits think of next????????

Dateline Los Angeles 4/1/2008
Jet-lagged but happy to be home. The tour was amazing, sold-out and Slash, Duff, Matt and Dave were so kind to us. I didn’t get to see Scott but I hope he’s good and that Velvet Revolver and STP both move onwards and upwards.

Ate at Craft, Tom Colicchio’s LA branch of the NYC steakhouse classic. I wanted to eat here when it first opened but I quickly lost interest thinking it was going to be a cold, biz-oriented power lunch kind of place (it’s practically in CAA’s lobby). I couldn’t have been more wrong. The dining room was warm, nicely lit and felt great. Everyone was really friendly (Maybe they know I write a food column? Yeah, I wish) and the food was excellent. The smoked trout appetizer was perfect and the steak was great. I always judge a steakhouse by the NY Strip and this was perfectly cooked and full of flavor. I’ll be back.

Dateline Los Angeles 4/2/2008
Went to Lucques which was recently named top LA restaurant in Los Angeles Magazine. I like Lucques but I didn’t think it was the best place in town. I hadn’t been in a few years (last time I was there, Pearl and I had dinner with Roger Daltrey and The Edge sat at the next table and it was quite a night, but that’s a story for another time) so I figured I’d revisit. It was definitely not the best restaurant in town. Citrus Avocado salad to start was eh. Not enough avocado so it was more like a fruit salad that someone dropped some avocado into. The salmon was cooked well but was swimming in butter and was bland. Not sure how they cooked the flavor out of it. Maybe they were having an off night. Not sure if I’ll be back.

Dateline Chicago 4/3/2008
In Chicago writing with Anthrax. Nine songs done. We’re really getting close to making the record. I’m very happy with where we’re at creatively. Fucking Metal.

Ate at Blackbird. Fucking amazing. If Los Angeles Magazine named this restaurant as best restaurant in LA, I’d agree. It was a perfect meal. I even asked for a menu so I could get it right here. The only thing I can’t remember is the first amuse. It was whitefish in some delicious sauce.

Appetizer: Salad of endives with crispy potatoes, basil, dijon, pancetta, and poached egg.

Amuse: Crispy confit of suckling pig with braised endive, crab apples, sweet potato mustard and pork rind.

Entrée: Grilled California sturgeon with sauerkraut gnocchi, Anjou pear and celery root puree.

Amuse: Grapefruit sorbet.

Dessert: Roasted pineapple with brioche ice cream, hibiscus and cinnamon toast.

All this and booze for $80. If it was NY or LA it would’ve been $150. It sounds pretty fancy-pants but all the flavors were very down home, American style cooking. Awesome.

I’m off to Costa Rica tomorrow for a week. My belly is excited.

Cheers,
Scott

P.S. If you’re not watching "Battlestar Galactica," you’re an idiot.

www.myspace.com/scottian
www.nonelouder.com/scottian
http://blogs.scifi.com/battlestar/scottian/

Scott Ian plays guitar for revolutionary metal band Anthrax and also for Pearl.

Artwork credit: Shepard Fairey

Since we last met I’ve been busy with Anthrax, playing guitar in and co-managing Pearl, writing for a side project called Methusaleh with some lovely fellows that play in some major bands (I can’t say shit about it right now other than the songs are fucking heavy, like a more metallic Kyuss), playing poker professionally (!), and watching and re-watching "Lost." I've been so busy, in fact, that I’ve barely been eating or drinking. Combine all that with working out and hiking and I actually feel somewhat healthy. So I decided to take this past weekend off and hit L.A. hard -- like olden times.

I used to go out a lot in this town; from 1995 – 2000 you couldn’t not find me at a bar. I used to love Small’s (now 40 Deuce), The Coronet (gone), Daddy’s (gone), Max’s (now The Dime), Frolic Room (still with us), Coach & Horses (kicking ass), The Whiskey Bar (called something else now I
think), The Chateau, and Dublin’s, etc., etc... the memories blur.

I spent a large part of the late '90s stumbling home from these places, sometimes five miles worth of stumbling. I used to walk off the Irish Car Bombs at Daddy’s by somehow hoofing it from Vine and Selma back to my place in Kosher Canyon. I was like a pinball in the dark Hollywood night, bouncing off poles, walls, parked cars and finally my bed. Luckily I never got hurt. Jackass.

My booze years ended in 2000 (love will do that to you) and the lost nights, weekends, weeks, months came to a halt. Food became my new poison and booze was it’s fancy dance partner.

My plan this weekend was to hit something new and something old. New
would be Foxtail, the new supper club by Brent Bolthouse and the machine that is SBE. They own every top club in town, most of which are not my vibe, as my taste in bars is more akin to Tiny’s KO than Area. Foxtail has a restaurant downstairs and a soon to be open bar upstairs. I saw some pics of Foxtail on the web and I liked the menu (French bistro style and I’m a sucker for Steak Frites) so I had to go check it out.

A crew of us got a table at 9 p.m. and we walked into an art nouveau fantasy of a bar. The place is beautiful; Slick and warm at the same time. I really liked the energy in the room as we sat down. It didn’t feel clubby/trendy/douchebaggy. It instantly reminded me of Moomba NYC circa 1997/1998, which was the best place to hang out ever. Exclusive but without the pretension, which isn’t easy to pull off. I ordered a Kiwi Julep made with Woodford Reserve Bourbon, fresh lemon juice, fresh Kiwi and baby Angel’s tears. I got the Tuna Tartar to start and shared the Mussels with my brother. Both good. The tuna could use a touch of Scotch Bonnet oil, but that’s just me. The Steak Frites did not disappoint. The filet was cooked perfect, the frites were great (fried in duck fat?), and the side of a fried egg with shaved black truffles put it over the top. Fuck, I’m making myself hungry. Fucking French fries. I’m drooling like Homer S.

Brent Bolthouse ended up at our table and we closed the place. The food was killer and not prohibitively priced. The steak was easily ten to fifteen bucks cheaper than the top steak places in town and the drinks were worth their weight in gold. The upstairs bar is supposed to open any day now. I highly recommend Foxtail for a killer LA via NY night out.

And now to the oldie but still goodie. The ‘Bow! Yes, the Rainbow on the Strip, still kicking ass. In the '80s when the Rainbow was hair band central, I stayed away like it had the plague. In the '90s I was too busy at the aforementioned bars to visit the old dog. In the 2000s I have come to love the place. Its roots are so deeply planted in the history of ROCK and the attitude oozes from the walls. You can smell the drinks that Keith Moon spilled. This place has soul. I showed up with a crew of 14, the place was packed, we grabbed the back booth and got Guinnessy. I had already eaten dinner but the smell of tomato sauce so permeates the place, like one of Pavlov’s dogs I obediently ordered a pizza. The Rainbow has great diner food. The steak is good. The pizza isn’t Mozza or Patsy’s or Lombardi’s but it’s good. It’s all good. If you’ve never been to the ‘Bow, go.

Cheers,
Scott


Scott Ian plays guitar for revolutionary metal band Anthrax and also for Pearl.

Artwork credit: Shepard Fairey

I hate that stupid “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” slogan. What’s the point of having fun and not sharing?

Yeah, if your trip ends with a dead hooker in your hotel room and a CSI investigation, keep your mouth shut. But too much food, too much booze, poker, David Wells, Jason Giambi, and Mario Batali -- that’s a weekend to blab about.

I was supposed to have this column in on Friday night. I figured I’d get into my room at the Hard Rock, write it and then go get some food, have an early night and wake up fresh for the poker tourney. The best laid plans….
I texted my buddy Joe Bastianich (co-owner of Mario’s restaurant empire) to see if he was in Vegas and it turns out he was. They are opening a new spot, Carne Vino, at the new Palazzo tower in the Venetian and were doing a soft opening. I called my buddy Paul Crook and we headed over for dinner.

The Palazzo is massive. Even by Vegas standards, it’s giant. Carne Vino reflects its surroundings. Beautiful bar, super high ceilings. The main dining room as well, open and huge but nothing gets lost. Joe told me there are more dining rooms off of the main room. With their restaurant B&B literally just a few hundred yards away, it’s a testament to Mario’s power that he can open another place on such a grand scale.

Joe started pouring wine (Bastianich Vespa available at K&L here in LA, killer white) and it was on. I don’t know if it’s a Vegas thing, but the menu was huge. Bigger than Babbo in NY or Osteria Mozza here. There had to be twenty-five antipasti choices, a dozen pasta choices and then the meat. It’s called Carne Vino. There are separate columns for Beef, Veal and Pork. I had the Romana salad with anchovies, the Spaghetti Frutti Di Mare (lobster, shrimp, clams, calamari) and the Veal Marsala. All perfect; all Mario-ized. When you eat Mario’s food you realize why he can have thirteen or so restaurants. It’s just fucking great. No bullshit -- simple, quality ingredients cooked perfectly.

After diner Joe invited us back to the curtained off main room where Mario was holding court. Paul and I joined the crew and spent the next five hours drinking wine and Amaro (it’s basically Italian Jager). Tom Colicchio was there as well so I was in full-on dork mode sitting with him and Mario. Both of them are so cool and down to earth. Tom gave me a bunch of behind the scenes stuff about "Top Chef" which I can’t repeat here under threat of being filleted.

At some point I got up to pee and ended up in a taxi. I could barely speak; the Amaro hit me like a Hatton right.

I made it back to my room and somehow played online poker at Ultimate Bet 'til the sun came up and my head stopped spinning. Fucking Amaro.

I was still drunk when the poker tourney started. It was a charity event hosted by Randy Couture to help injured soldiers returning from Iraq and Afghanistan. One hundred fifty people entered; celebs, poker pros, MMA fighters and the public. David Wells (ex-Yankee) was at my table. I’m a huge Yankee fan and a huge Wells fan. I found it hard to concentrate on the game at first being half drunk and sitting next to one of my idols. He introduced himself and we ended up hanging out til 4 AM. Turns out he was in the same boat as me when the game started so we just started drinking again. What a fucking blast. Ended up meeting up with Giambi later that night and I was in Yankee heaven.

What does this have to do with food? Nothing. We did eat at the new Ago at the Hard Rock and it was very good.

Oh, I made the final table, finished 10th. They raised 100K. Great event.

Until next time, your newly sober friend,
Scott


Scott Ian plays guitar for revolutionary metal band Anthrax and also for Pearl.

Artwork credit: Shepard Fairey

Bon Scott once said, “Hell ain’t a bad place to be.” I couldn’t agree more as my adopted city turns into a Rammstein video shoot. Los Angeles is burning, San Diego is burnt and it’s snowing Malibu ash. Serious shit for this town. Yes, what was an arsonist’s wet-dream of a week was the top story across the board, barely beating out Marie Osmond passing out because she’s crazy.

I’ve been in Los Angeles for 18 years now and I know I’ve developed a disaster callous because driving on a freeway next to a hillside in flames is just interesting enough to get me to stop typing on my iPhone (yes, I am THAT GUY or that gay. Either one works.)

I do love this city and I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. I’m a New Yorker that would rather live in La La Land than back in the “old neighborhood.” Fuck the old neighborhood. Small-minded bitter assholes hanging out in dank, old-man bars, drinking from their mugs of sadness and failure as life passes them by. I’m not judging, maybe I’m stereotyping a bit, but I’ve been there. It smells bad.

I come from a New York that doesn’t exist any more so there’s not much for me to miss. I used to miss the restaurants … Ah, now he’s getting to the point of all this. Were you worried it was going to be like an episode of “John From Cincinnati” (like you watched that piece of crap) where nothing happens and nothing makes sense yet you still come back every week because it’s Milch and he did “Deadwood” and you hope something will crack and the only thing that ends up cracking is your head against the wall in frustration? That was me.

So the point is, I used to miss the food. Used to. New York used to lord over Los Angeles as a “culinary town” but not any more. Some people will disagree with me on this so I will fight them. Fight them with words. Really fancy words like “Sous-Vide,” and “Affinage,” and “Amuse Bouche,” and “Rape,” (the vegetable not the assault, look it up.)

Me being more akin to the lowbrow, I’ll spell it out this way; I just fucking love food and in the last five years Los Angeles has become a premier dining city and that’s what I’m guhna fuhkin’ write about if dats OK wit yous.



Editor's Note: Scott Ian plays guitar for revolutionary metal band Anthrax and also for Pearl, on tour now in the UK. SuicideGirls is proud to welcome him as a columnist. Now throw up them horns…

Artwork credit: Shepard Fairey