Oranje you glad it’s grilled cheese?

A couple of weekends ago, I spent my Saturday night at Oranje, a local music/art event in some warehouse in downtown Indy. Two floors of the warehouse were filled with art booths overflowing with paintings, photos, sculptures, body painters, and basically anything else you could imagine. Packed into the building’s parking lot were beer tents, bars and, in true Indianapolis style, tons of food trucks boasting everything from tacos to pizza to jambalaya. Forty-or-so local bands performed on various stages throughout the venue, and the music went well into the wee hours of the morning.

I arrived at the event in time to hang out with B before he was scheduled to DJ for Oreo Jones at midnight – though, when I met up with him, he seemed a little stressed out.

“I’m supposed to cook grilled cheese on stage while I’m dj-ing,” he informed me.

“What?!” I laughed. “Why?”

“Oreo wants to incorporate ‘Let’s Do Lunch’ into the performance, I guess, and we’re making grilled cheese,” he explained. (Besides being a local emcee, Oreo Jones also hosts a cooking show, called “Let’s Do Lunch”, on YouTube.)

“I see,” I nodded, still a little confused. “Can you do that while you’re playing?”

“I don’t know,” B complained. “The other thing is, I don’t know how to make grilled cheese.”

“Ok, well I can help you with that. It’s really easy. First, you take two pieces of bread, and put butter on one side of each of them,” I explained.

“Butter?” he asked.

“Yeah, like with a knife?”

“I don’t think we have a knife.”

“Um, ok… Well, hypothetically, you’d butter the bread, then put one piece butter-side down on a skillet – do you have a skillet?”

“I don’t know. I think so.”

“Ok, good. So, you put the bread down, then put cheese on top, then top that with the other piece of bread, butter-side-up. That way, when you flip it, the sandwich will always be butter-side-down in the pan.”

“(Sigh). How do you flip it?” 

“With a spatula?”

“We don’t have a spatula.”

“Okkkk… Well, somehow you flip it. Maybe with a fork?”

“We don’t have a fork.”

“…and then, when it’s browned and the cheese is melty, you put it on a plate and serve it!”

“A plate?” 

“You don’t have plates?”

“(Grumble). We don’t have any of the stuff we need! This is so frustrating!”

“Well, you have bread and cheese and butter, at least,” I said. “Um, maybe you could borrow the rest of the stuff from the food trucks?”

B agreed, and I followed him around from truck to truck for the next 20 minutes as he begged and pleaded for plates and utensils, explained that yes, he was a performer and yes, he was making grilled cheese, got shot down, then begged and pleaded some more. Finally, on the brink of a moral collapse, he had collected enough supplies.

“Let’s go inside,” he mumbled.

We walked into the warehouse and toward the stage where he would be playing. On the way, we stopped at a different stage where his friend, Ben, was DJ-ing. B and I made our way through the writhing crowd and all the way to the DJ booth. When we got there, B set the plates on the table as he reached over to give Ben a hug.

Unfortunately, at this same time, the crowd had a huge reaction to the song Ben was playing. So, as B was reaching for Ben, someone, in a fit of excitement over the music, grabbed all of B’s plates and Frisbee-tossed them into the crowd. B turned around just in time to see them sailing to different corners of the room, then disappearing beneath stomping feet. His face went pale. His eyes got so big, I thought they might pop out of his head.

Then, he proceeded to wander through the crowd, ducking and weaving around the dancers, retrieving all of his plates once again.

Despite B’s frustrations, though, the night was a success. His shirtless friend, Paulie, volunteered to make the grilled cheeses so B could concentrate on DJ-ing, and everyone was very impressed by the concert and the complimentary snack.

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