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Posts Tagged ‘Penn Cove Mussel Fest’

All your pertinent info.

As someone who has worked on a mussel-harvesting boat, and, unfortunately, eaten one or two of what was pulled up, I firmly believe the slimy buggers are an abomination.

Anyone who tells you otherwise is focusing on the taste of melted butter, wine, and seasonings, and ignoring the gloppy hunks o’ flesh bobbing in that savory mix.

And yet, the annual Penn Cove Mussel Fest endures, bringing a fair amount of money and fame to Central Whidbey.

Plus, the Jefferds family, which trolls the waters in front of Coupeville Sports headquarters for the seafood star of the show, are good people.

So, when they, and their signature event, do well, I nod in approval … from a distance.

This year’s celebration of the briny beast goes down Mar. 2-3, and while I may have no desire whatsoever to take part, if you do, good on you.

For those who want to toss in a little mountain biking with their attempts to trick their taste buds into thinking mussels were meant for human consumption, there’s also the Mussels in the Kettles event.

All the info you need can be found in the photo above, so no need for me to repeat it all right here.

Scroll up, read away, make your plans and enjoy your weekend.

Just don’t try and tell me those rubbery lil’ bottom feeders are a delicacy. My taste buds know the truth.

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The man, the myth, the legend, Jim Castaneda. (Jeffery McKeown photo)

The man, the myth, the legend, Jim Castaneda. (Jeffery McKeown photo)

Castaneda

   Castaneda (second from left) and his acapella group Kickshaw, opening for Huey Lewis (black shirt) in 2002. (Photo courtesy Castaneda)

Castaneda as Gomez in The Addams Family. (Katie Woodzick photo)

On-stage as Gomez in The Addams Family. (Katie Woodzick photo)

Gazing into a bright musical future. (McKeown photo)

Gazing into a bright musical future. (McKeown photo)

The song remains the same, but the venue is changing.

After a decade-plus of balancing cooking at Christopher’s on Whidbey with his musical career, Jim Castaneda is leaving behind the sizzle of the kitchen and fully embracing his life behind the mic.

The veteran singer/songwriter, who has graced many a stage as a solo artist, a member of several successful groups, and, in recent years, as a song and dance man on the theatrical stage, is jazzed for what’s ahead.

“I feel like I’ve found a sound, a songwriting voice and a live presentation that lets me explore my musicality,” Castaneda said. “I’ve been in situations surrounding live performance for long enough now that I know when something reaches people.

“I’ve talked with numerous fans, friends, family, business owners and musicians alike who genuinely enjoy what I’m bringing to the table,” he added. “I’m not getting any younger and I want to be able to share my live art in more places.

“I think I have put together a marketable musical project, and as my songs are still lining up in notebooks and studio demos, ready to be developed … and as maybe the world needs a little more of the positive groove … and as … why now? why not?”

Castaneda will continue to work the line regularly at Christopher’s through the end of Feb., before fully kicking off the new direction in a musical career which began as a young teen.

Fans can catch him at Rustica in Oak Harbor, where he hosts an open mic every Thursday, and Castaneda has a plum gig performing at the annual Penn Cove Mussel Fest.

He’ll play in the waterfront tent at 11:30 AM Saturday, Mar. 4.

“My second year in a row!,” he said. “Just look for the chowder ticket line and listen for the music, you’ll find me.

“Then you’ll find me and (wife) Heidi cruizin’ around C-town slurping down mussel chowders.”

Castaneda will also be returning to Blooms Winery in Langley for its Sunday afternoon concert series and is slated to do another stint as a judge for Whidbey Has Talent.

Auditions begin in March, with local middle school students coming together at the Oak Harbor High School auditorium Apr. 9 for the big show.

“Last year was a wonderful time and a successful first year,” Castaneda said. “It’s an awesome day seeing the talent these kids bring to the stage.

“Some of them even got to play at this year’s Oak Harbor Music Festival. Good stuff.”

Another relatively new addition to his musical empire came courtesy of former Christopher’s co-worker Chelsea Randall, who brought him into the world of musical theater at the Whidbey Island Center for the Arts.

After making his debut playing multiple roles (jazz crooner, cop, doctor) in a production of City of Angels choreographed by Randall and directed by her mom, Elizabeth Herbert, Castaneda had the acting bug.

From there, he’s been a dancing Santa, “tasted the sweet darkness” as Gomez in The Addams Family, and had major roles in everything from 1776 to Spamalot.

Currently, he’s on the lighting crew for the Whidbey Playhouse production of Into the Woods.

“Part of my intention upon getting involved in theater was to learn about larger scale, professional productions,” Castaneda said. “I had no idea I’d learn so much.

“Not only about the acting, which I love, but I got a chance to be on the stage managing team with two productions and this year I’m helping run a surprisingly intricate lighting system.”

Castaneda plans to return to the stage often, though he will put it on the back burner a bit in the coming days.

“Would love to act more, but my creative life needs to be focused on making music,” he said. “I can be an old man actor after I lose my teeth and can’t beat box anymore.”

For now, the music is the thing.

“Playing music, writing music, collaborating and sharing the stage with other musicians, producing more audio and some performance video here and there,” Castaneda said. “I’ll be concentrating on generating an abundant live performance schedule over the next decade.

“Music festivals, taprooms, wineries, promoters, talent agents, bars, clubs, parties – you name it,” he added. “Working to establish myself as a go-to versatile musician.

“I’ve worked hard to hone my skills and develop my sound and now I’m off to find my audience.”

As he departs the kitchen, he leaves behind a large family comprised of current and former workmates, who hail him for his easy-going nature, his dedication to his craft and his calmness under fire on the many nights when the Christopher’s kitchen was really hoppin’.

Jim is one of those people that you meet in life and you think to yourself, I’m really glad I know him,” said former Christopher’s manager Kelsey Simmons. “Jim has a gracious way of connecting with people which has made him a great person to be around at Christopher’s, and successful within the music industry.

“I can’t wait to watch Jim jump into his music with both feet.”

Castaneda answered a newspaper ad, and found an immediate connection with “Master Dre‘,” owner/chef Andreas Wurzrainer.

“It’s been an incredible place to work. Andreas and (wife) Lisa have never been anything but gracious and flexible with schedule.

“Mine has been a challenging one, but we found a place for me on the team where I could contribute where they needed and I could also work toward my goals in the music business at the same time.”

Being a quick seven-minute drive from his house (or less, depending on urgency), Christopher’s became a second home for Castaneda, one where he found new challenges and rewards.

“I know how to cook! And I mean really cook.”

Put in a decade at a restaurant, even one where the staff turnover was remarkably low for much of that time, and you get a chance to work with a wide variety of people.

It was an experience Castaneda cherishes.

“I have worked with quite a few servers, cooks and dishwashers over the years. Everyone has their own special way about them,” he said. “I got to know some and some moved on too soon. Some took care of kitchen knives; some did not. Some come back every now and then and some weren’t really ever there in the first place.

“Some went and had babies and some are in the middle of having babies right now. One plays the banjo for his baby,” Castaneda added. “Some were older; some were in for their first job. Some were locals from birth and some were from California.

“Some thought they knew what they were doing when they didn’t and some were more talented than they thought. Some became friends and some I’ll never see again.”

As he edges for the door (which will always remain open should he choose to ever return), Castaneda does so with his customary low-key smile still firmly intact.

“The team right now works well together and is filled with personality and talented, goodhearted people,” he said. “It’s an environment I hope they appreciate as much as I have.

“All workplaces are not created equal. I will miss it.”

 

To follow Jim’s musical career, pop over to:

http://www.originaljim.com/

 

Full disclosure: I worked with Jim at Christopher’s from 2012-2015.

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Pertinent info, in a convenient reading format.

Now, everyone with any sense knows that mussels are the world’s most disgusting form of seafood.

But, there are some out there who feel obligated to celebrate the slug of the sea, and it’s certainly true that Coupeville’s annual bowing down to the devil of the ocean during the Penn Cove Mussel Fest (Mar. 7-9) will attract a ton of tourists.

So, while you’re here, trying to gag down the flotsam and jetsam of our waters, you might want to work off the taste by hauling out your bike and getting some exercise.

The Mussels in the Kettles mountain bike event is set for 9 AM Saturday, Mar. 8. For info, head back up to the photo above.

And seriously, as someone who did time working on the mussel rafts and is forever scarred by it — you can put all the butter and garlic in the world on the hideous things and you’re still just chewing on rubber.

Stinky, salty rubber.

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It's a trap.

It’s a trap.

Mussels are the single most disgusting food on the planet and the people who slurp them down are idiots.

They look gross, they taste gross (you can pour all the butter and cream you want on them, you’re still chowing down on little blubbery bits of gunk no self-respecting seagull would look twice at) and the smell when they’re being sucked up from the briny depths? Good frickin’ lord.

Having made the mistake of abruptly leaving newspaper life at 23, I compounded my problems by winding up on a mussel-processing boat owned by a tightwad, two-bit lawyer who staffed his operation with the absolute cream of the work force.

Since we were working for a rinky-dink operation which went belly-up not too far down the road, instead of the other highly-successful company in the area, which is owned by solid citizens, we were in deep from the start.

Instead of the successful, smart, career-minded people I had rubbed elbows with at the Whidbey News-Times, these were the people who couldn’t get hired for fast food. The mentally scarred. The indifferent. And the guy we later discovered was hiding out from twenty-plus warrants out for his arrest.

Of course, that was the guy who I gave a ride to work every day.

Thirteen brave, lost souls, who started with a gut-churning ride through the waves out to the company’s run-down boat, where we then put in a welcome-to-hell 12-hour shift.

By the time I left — or rather, dumped my gear on the dock and fled in the middle of the night never to be seen again — several months later, we were down to just two from that group.

And why not? Even at its best, mussel processing hits you with long hours, you’re constantly cold and wet, the boat rocks like a mother in the slightest breeze and the stench is remarkable.

If I didn’t mention it before, this was not mussel processing at its best.

Mussels grow on knotted ropes put down in the water, but when it came time to harvest them, we on the S.S. Have No Clue would pull up everything.

Long, centipede-type sea worms with no eyes, which would run up the ropes, where we would stab them and flick them into each others faces, trying to make the guy next to us fall into the water.

Then there were mysterious round bubbles of fleshy material which were like gold to us.

That was only because we could pop them, shooting out an oily, not-very-tasty liquid. If you hit them right, bang, gut-like material all over the guy next to you. Do it wrong, bam, all over your face.

We spent most of our day covered in half-dried, gut-like material.

Which wasn’t so bad, compared to the muscle-bound woman in charge, who had a cold seemingly for the entire time we worked out there. Snot covered her face all day, long strands of half-dried mucus, and she’d entertain us all by blowing wads at anyone who walked past her.

The walls were gummy and seemed to be alive.

Mussels are sold two different ways, either as is or with their “beards” removed. That costs more, but gives the guys in the kitchen less work to do once the disgusting food stuff arrives to be served to moronic dining room guests.

To remove the beards you can either stand there and rip them off one by one, usually cutting yourself on the sharp edges of the mussel several times.

Or, in our case, you could try to operate The Machine ‘O Death — a grim-looking steel contraption on which you poured a bag of mussels, then ran around and watched as they moved down towards you, navigating a series of sharp metal pieces which would rip the beards out.

Of course, those metal pieces would also rip your hands up if you touched the thing. Being the only person trustworthy enough — or stupid enough — to operate the bearding machine, I was given a 25 cents per hour raise, which mainly went for bandages.

The worst part was the smell, a constant, choking vileness unmatched this side of a particularly unsanitary slaughter house. Your nose would shut down while out on the boat, but ten minutes after returning to shore you would be gagging.

Pity the sister who picked you up to give you a ride.

She shed tears that day, but I don’t think they were for me. She kept moaning, “My baby, my baby…” and she set her car on fire when we got home.

Said it was the only merciful thing to do.

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