What’s In Your Fridge is where the Straight asks interesting Vancouverites about their life-changing concerts, favourite albums, and, most importantly, what’s sitting beside the Heinz Ketchup in their custom-made Big Chill Retropolitan 20.6-cubic-foot refrigerators.

On the grill

Dante DeCaro

Who are you

I’m from Vancouver Island. I’m a musician and I’m currently doing press for an EP called Kill Your Boyfriend.



First concert

I barely remember this but my parents took me to a Raffi concert at the Duncan theatre when I was a kid. I guess I wanted to meet him after so my parents took me around back by his green room. I’m told the door was left partly open, so we could all hear him swearing and complaining loudly about his monitor mix or bad sound and amateur production crew or whatever it was. I guess it was pretty awkward when he came out and put on a smile and shook my hand and all that. I don’t actually remember this but I’m sure it happened and I’m totally fine with it. I’ve acted like a real child after a bad show before and tried to lay the blame on bad monitors or a bad crowd or anything but myself. It’s normal, it happens. I saw Raffi again recently selling jam or something on Saltspring Island at the market. We looked each other right in the eyes. My friend told me he was on the radio a while ago and the interviewer asked him to describe what it’s like to think of his fans 30 years after “Baby Beluga” or some question like that. After about 20 seconds of total silence he softly started singing, “Grown up beluga in the deep blue sea…”. That’s me—grown-up beluga.



Life-changing concert

One time I snuck onstage to a Metallica concert claiming I was Sum 41’s drum tech. It’s a boring story why that worked. It was kinda cool being right there next to the guys watching them play the classics (although this was St. Anger-era so there was some real garbage mixed in) but I noticed they actually weren’t the tightest band. Lars [Ulrich] in particular was a bit of a tempo-shifter. [Kirk] Hammet, however, was nailing it and he was smiling half the time, too which didn’t seem very metal to me but added to the experience for sure. I was standing between these black pillars they had along the side of the stage for a few songs when all of the sudden they started spewing these massive fucking columns of fire about 10 feet into the air. The blast knocked me back, which was lucky cause if I’d been slightly closer to them—I’d been leaning on them during “Sad But True”—I would have been permanently maimed by those pyrotechnics or worse! If I’d actually been the drum tech for Sum 41 I would have gotten the memo about the black tubes on the stage. So I guess it wasn’t a life-changing experience but it could have been and I’m sure there’s a lesson in there.



Top three records

Michael Jackson Thriller I’ve never been able to answer this question. That’s probably because it’s always changing and also as an adult I’m jaded, plus I’m probably trying to give an answer that suggests I’m cool and have my own quirky or enlightened taste. When I was younger though it would have been easy—especially when I was really young, only then I wouldn’t have three favourites when only one was needed: Michael Jackson, Thriller. Even now it seems pretty obvious when you put aside all your bullshit that this really is the best rock/pop/dance record ever made. When I was between 3 and 8, I listened to this full-volume every time my parents were out. And it was the ’80s so I was home alone practically every day and that was fine. I’d just put on Thriller and dance and sing, even though I couldn’t and still don’t know half the words—I just made the same sounds as him and that was good enough. I’d put on some white frilly blouse and black leather shoes and pretend I was him and have the best time boppin’ and moonwalkin’ around the living room. Only thing I was missing was the white, sparkly glove. One day I felt it wouldn’t be legit if I didn’t have that white glove so that industrious little mind of mine figured it out: I went into the bathroom and lathered up my hands as much as I could with soap and then rinsed one of them off. Voila: a white sparkly glove! For about a minute and then it’s kind of gone and starts making your skin really dry. I haven’t had a record move me like that since. 



All-time favorite video

Coolio “Fantastic Voyage” I have been searching my mind for an answer to this question for about 45 minutes now. To some people the answer is probably obvious. But for me it feels like I’m looking through a drawer of old paperwork ’cause someone’s asking me what my favourite tax return is. I was a teenager in the ’90s and watched music videos for hours on end after getting home from high school. It was basically the radio of ’90s teens but with moving images. I’ve seen so many music videos and none of them left an impression on me at all. I thought I liked the ones by the bands I liked but in retrospect, they were as stupid as all the rest. I keep thinking I’m gonna remember somethingm but while I rack my brain for some kind of answer, this, unfortunately, keeps popping up: Coolio, “Fantastic Voyage”. I can’t explain it, just seems to sum up everything I remember about music videos.

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What’s in your fridge

I guess this is the question this whole piece hinges on. I wrote something before but it didn’t cut it and they asked me to try again. Maybe this is in the food and drink and section? Maybe this is a millennials thing like taking pictures of food? Seems like the most uninteresting question I could think of and the truth is, there’s practically nothing my fridge—I mean, I have my culinary moments absolutely, but I also travel for a living and my refrigerator is generally a place where condiments go to retire. So I’m doing press for a record and I don’t have shit in my fridge at the moment and that’s a shame, but I got a friend who lives in Vancouver who makes amazing food for a living and he’s probably got some very interesting stuff. His name is Todd and he runs a little business called HandTaste Ferments. Do check it out! I figured he’s got something exciting going on behind those refrigerator doors so I’ve asked him instead:



Me: “Todd, what’s in your fridge?”



Todd: “So my fridge is full of fermented goods at a bunch of stages (crispy to almost-rotten, ha). We got lots of kimchi and kraut. Three jars of homemade miso, some questionable cheese, hot sauce that’s almost too hot to eat, and a crock full of pickled ramen eggs. Then for some reason and not sure where they came from, three Dr Peppers and also about 10 jars of jam that I opened and then remembered I don’t like jam. They were all gifts so I feel bad tossing them out. Ha.”



Me: “Perfecto!” And the appeal of the question begins to shine brightly before my eyes.

 You can buy Kill Your Boyfriend here.