A Filling with the Toothaches

Pop band's dinner proves anti-scurvy, anti-scrawny

By CHRISTINE LIU

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Hours before their show opening for Minipop at the Middle East, I crash an impromptu dinner in Jackson Square hosted by the Toothaches—Monica, Zimmy, Rose, Melv, Johnny—a local band whose glockenspiel- tambourine- bass arrangements make your insides whirl frenetically into spun sugar. More like beer-flavored cotton candy, I would later determine.

As one steps inside, the scene is relaxed and breezy, with teasing wafts of smoke—a fragrant grill-oven-cigarette mix—meandering through the apartment. Tommy James and Neil Diamond emanate from the turntable rotating in the den, the music punctuated by spontaneous noodlings on a ukulele here, a mini-sampler there. Zimmy and Monica are at one end of the kitchen cutting fruit—he, pineapple; she, strawberries—while Rose sticks her head out of the window to tend to the grill stationed outside (gaffer taped atop a pyramid of stacked household furniture to properly reach tending-from-the-window level). Poking into the beer fridge produces Smuttynose Old Brown Dog Ale, Brooklyn Brown Ale or Pabst.

I'm invited to partake in the first batch of a singularly sinful snack known as carnivore s'mores. They're daunting nuggets of baby bella mushrooms wrapped in maple-cured bacon, impaled on a stick. Each goes down in one plump meaty bite; a syrup bacon truffle, if you will. "It's like a dessert ... meat?" offers Johnny. While dozens more of this skewered glistening goodness appear, we dive into a nearby casserole of baked beans ("for grownups," Rose explains, due to the wide variety in the mix). Seasoned with brown sugar, molasses, bacon, ketchup, Worcestershire sauce and yellow mustard, the sauce's sweetness cuts through just right. The boys in the kitchen are busy comparing each other's relative scrawniness, to which Rose grins, "That's why I have to feed them all this bacon."

Meanwhile, a bounty of sliced fruit for homemade sangria awaits a winey fate. I spot oranges, apples, lime ... starfruit? "That's exotic right there," concurs Johnny. "Hell yeah!" cheers Zimmy. The recipe proceeds with a base of Yellow Tail Shiraz, a generous pour of Tanqueray ("As much gin as you can sneak into the recipe," Rose clarifies), a bit of OJ and ginger ale to top it all off. After a few minutes of righteous steepage, the pitcher of sangria starts to flow, pouring mostly into whatever tumblers and pint glasses are at hand. The crimson beverage also finds its way into a forsaken martini glass rakishly garnished with an orange slice. "We usually eat spaghetti out of it," confesses Rose, clutching the oversized drinking vessel.

As the band's departure to pick up their gear for the show draws near, the barbeque deconstructs into an ad hoc succession of food and friends. The buns that had been toasting in the oven are piled with grilled beef patties capped with a slab of brie and crisp apple slices—"You guys are all gourmet and shit," teases Johnny. Post burger-inhalation, with some s'mores for the road, the crew peels out into the cool evening, fueled for a long spree of burning the midnight bacon grease.

RECIPES COURTESY OF ROSE BLAKELOCK OF THE TOOTHACHES

CARNIVORE S'MORES

1 pound thick-sliced maple-cured bacon

2 8-ounce packages of baby bella mushrooms

freshly ground black pepper

barbecue skewers and a grill (duh)

Soak barbecue skewers in warm water. While they're soaking, wipe any excess dirt from the mushrooms with a paper towel.

Slice the bacon strips in half. Wrap a half strip of bacon around each mushroom, making sure that it overlaps itself (we find wrapping vertically around the mushroom works best). If needed, remove the stem from the mushroom.

Once wrapped, skewer the mushroom. We generally put 4-5 mushrooms on each skewer.

Grill kebabs over medium coals for 20-25 minutes (or until bacon is crisp), turning occasionally and sprinkling with black pepper.

Serve immediately. Follow with excessive drinking.

TOOTHACHES SANGRIA

1 starfruit

2 limes

1 lemon

1 cup sliced strawberries

1 cup freshly sliced pineapple

1 orange

1 apple (we prefer Pink Lady, but it's up to you)

1 cup frozen blueberries (optional)

1 750ml bottle of cheap red wine (we generally use Yellow Tail or Barefoot)

gin, ginger ale and orange juice to taste (a pint of each should cover you)

1 large pitcher.

Slice fruit as desired; place in pitcher. Fill the pitcher approximately 2/3 of the way with red wine. Fill remaining third with equal parts gin*, ginger ale and orange juice. Stir and serve.** When you run out of wine, eat the fruit!

*The secret of Toothaches Sangria is to sneak in as much gin as possible, so don't be shy. You'll probably find that the amount of gin in each subsequent pitcher is directly proportionate to the amount of sangria you've had.

** If you don't have frozen blueberries, we recommend adding some ice. No one likes warm sangria.

[Next show at O'Brien's Pub with verb the adjective noun, Wifflebat and Premature Mondays. Mon 6.30.08. 3 Harvard Ave., Allston. 617.782.6245. 9pm/21+/$3. myspace.com/thetoothaches]