Skip the Chicken Salad
This weekend, expand your comfort zone (not the waistline of your stretchy pants).
Hello, Gorgeous!
I was going to write a timely independence-inspired piece for July 4th. But I did that last year. And then I decided to tell you to skip the hot dogs this year — because it’s all so predictable it stopped being special. I’m not anti-hot dog. I’m anti-autopilot. So maybe this year, allow yourself the independent choice of figuring out how you want to spend the next few days, and not the way everyone thinks you should. Which brings me to both Ben Folds and chicken salad. I'll explain.
The Luckiest
A few weeks ago, I went to see Ben Folds in concert with the New Jersey Symphony at the beautifully restored jewel-box-sized State Theatre in New Brunswick (Jewel box to me, anyway — I grew up on Lincoln Center.) I love Ben Folds so hard it hurts sometimes. And since I don’t live in or near New Jersey, I was simultaneously in and out of my comfort zone.
The concert was exceptional. It was also nothing I expected. If you're unfamiliar with him or his music, Folds is frequently a foul-mouthed, soft-voiced piano virtuoso — think the love child of Bart Simpson and Beethoven — so I walked into the theater prepared for an entirely different concert than the one I got.
It was rousing to hear my favorite songs played with an orchestra of about 50 musicians, and the conductor was a treat. Edwin Outwater (you may remember him from the Metallica and San Francisco Symphony collaboration) brought so much enthusiasm and pure physicality to the task that it was hard not to love every moment. Only I didn’t — not at first. I’d come in with misplaced expectations of the usual Ben Folds show, the one where he leads the audience in three-part harmonies. That never happened.
One of the best parts came before a single note: we were told no photos or video during the performance — only during applause. So for once, none of the on-stage magic disappeared into a sea of glowing rectangles. No one was filming a song they'd never rewatch; no stranger's screen pulled my eye from the stage. Just a room full of people who'd agreed, briefly, to actually be here sharing a moment.
So instead of allowing myself to be distracted by the unfamiliarity of the arrangements, I decided to melt into the experience. And melt I did.
Folds, who was the first Artistic Advisor to the National Symphony Orchestra at The Kennedy Center from 2017 to early 2025, has a quirky roster of covers. He explained that he’d recorded “The Ghost in You” by the Psychedelic Furs while guest-starring on The Wilds for Amazon Prime Video. In his self-deprecating way, Folds described his character as the worst of that teen star’s parents’ generation; the show notes call him her crush. Either way, this Gen X girl had tears rolling down her face through his symphonic version of a song I’ve always loved, especially as a highly angsty teen.
Once I understood I wasn’t seeing the Ben Folds I know but Ben Folds with a symphony, I enjoyed every second.
But Wait, There’s More
Earlier this week, I sat for an artist (I’ll call him J) who created a wonderfully crafted digital drawing of me that I can only describe as hideous. I told him so, albeit affectionately. He’s a schmancy cartoonist for The New Yorker who was doing caricatures, so I’m not sure what I expected — maybe something that resembled me. J mentioned that I share a last name with his favorite writer, Gene Weingarten, who once wrote that he and I are related only in chutzpah. I told J about the time Gene wrote about me for the Washington Post, back when Gene was on a quest to connect with and irritate as many Weingartens as possible. After my profile, Gene skewered another, unrelated Weingarten. Who knew there were so many of us?
As we chatted, I told J he reminded me of what Ben Folds would be like if he were an artist. J's entire face changed in what might be seen by a caricaturist as an expression of fervent joy. Turns out Ben Folds is one of J’s favorite musicians too. Our conversation shifted to the best concerts we’d ever seen, and I told him about the one in New Jersey, which I forgot to mention was at 2:00 pm on a Sunday. Yes. Folds mocked that as well.
“Did he do the three-part harmony with the audience?” J asked, almost breathlessly. I explained that, tragically, Folds had not — but then I told him about the magic of the whole night, and we both sighed happily. I can confirm that as cute as J was, I wasn’t flirting. I was simply a woman transformed back into a 16-year-old girl talking to a cute boy about music. I miss that feeling. Not the boy — because for the most part I’m an unrepentant flirt. I miss the ease that came with that conversation. And I liked reacquainting myself with the version of myself where everything else disappears when the music matters that much.
Why Chicken Salad?
I'm a great cook and former pro baker, and usually make up my own recipes. Still, even I have a reliable default — my world-class day-two chicken salad from a rotisserie bird, the known excellent thing. But this week, a relative was feeling crummy and craving comfort food, so I skipped the salad and made chicken fried rice from the same chicken instead. Days later, the troops still bring it up.
So what does any of this have to do with Independence Day or Ben Folds? Everything and nothing at all, I guess.
We’re mostly predictable beings. If the gods of bank holidays tell us to barbecue, we usually obey. If I go to a Ben Folds concert, I expect a little brashness with the massacring of the ivories. This time I took a chance that wasn’t wildly out of my comfort zone — it just wasn’t the one I expected to love. And I loved it anyway. Which is my long-winded way of saying it's fine to love what you love, but sometimes it's even better to shake things up a bit.
While we're all creatures of habit, this long holiday weekend, I invite you to do the same. Try something slightly unexpected, even if it involves a rotisserie chicken, but especially if it involves someone who loves the same music you do.
So what are your weekend plans? And have you seen Ben Folds in concert lately — or resisted flirting with an artist? Let’s meet in the comments to discuss!
Rachel, your beauty Ben Folds concierge 💋