I find it a little bit hard to write about this, a little bit like I might have a hard time talking about Disney’s Backstage Magic tour, or maybe Dining with an Imagineer. On the one hand, as a stubbornly persistent return visitor, I take a certain thrill in knowing the little, less-than-obvious preparations that go into bringing the Café together. On the other, I wonder if a curious newcomer might return next year, knowing that it doesn’t all suddenly crystallize, and for that find it somehow a little less magical.

I did bring along a new friend I met this year, the very pretty Miss Molly mentioned at the page footers for a while now, and she was sufficiently impressed that she says she’d like to visit, if the “leasing issues” get sorted out in time for next year. I’ll send her an invitation to post her thoughts below. Beyond that, though, I’ve thought about it a bit, and just to avoid spoiling things, I think I’m going to avoid telling too much. Let’s just say that I’m still enchanted by what an amazing, beautiful little bit of fan-craft the Café is. Sometimes the most wonderful things are the most fragile, and if the Café comes to an end, I’ll understand…

… but I can’t say I wouldn’t be deeply saddened.

On a happier note, even if we couldn’t actually see the ongoing story play out, it does continue.

1. “Bob” is still working, much to my delight. Unfortunately, he was walking around the con with a large piece of metal sticking out of his chest. I asked him about it, and he claims that he got stabbed in a recent fight with one of the dishwashers, but I am not entirely sure he did not get in Matta’s way once too often (I mean this with all due affection, of course – I like Matta!). At the actual Café Verführen panel, he showed no sign of injury. I suppose he must be a very fast healer, or simply too tough to let something like that slow him down. He’s a demon of a worker, and Café Verführen is lucky to have him.
2. Sebastian was released from quarantine and is back to his usual antics.
3. Jacob is his usual snarkily considerate self as well. I believe he is also still rooming with Nishi, and also still a little confused over how he got himself into that predicament… not that he minds. Much.
4. I’ve been outed! Ryusei and Jacob told everyone about these reviews and introduced me to the small crowd. The attention is a highly novel thing to me, and I admit to being surprised, but I must say it’s nice to be appreciated.
5. The Café never likes to send their guests home empty-handed, and I appear to be building a collection of not-moist-towelettes.

So, on this fundamental, childhood level, invoking little things that changed my life, there’s something fantastic about walking through a bookstore and seeing a book titled Wisdom with the man himself on the cover. I love it. It’s one part photobook, one part essay collection, and I really do think it deserves its title. Neither Morgan Freeman nor Patrick Stewart appears, which does disappoint me a little bit (Stewart may be just a few years on the young end of the project’s scope), but overall I very much enjoyed my time with it, and I’ll be buying a copy soon. The book’s website has a great trailer, which sums up the book better than I could.

Part of Mr. Eastwood’s entry, particularly, caught my attention, so I copied it down to share with you here:

Take your profession seriously; don’t take yourself seriously. Don’t take yourself seriously in the process, because you really only matter to a certain degree in the whole circus out there. If you take yourself seriously you’re not going to be able to move forward and use your best artistic instincts. You’re going to be hampered by always wanting to look in the mirror and see if you have enough tuna oil in your hair or something like that.

I don’t think anyone would regret listening to that, either.

Most YaoiCon attendees never visit the third floor of the hotel, unless they have rooms there. I don’t blame them. The con program doesn’t mention the treasure hidden up there. I don’t know whether this is a deliberate snub or one of those complications of printing schedules and hotel management, but it’s a shame either way. The third floor is home to Café Verführen, and I think it’s my favorite event at the con.

Full Disclosure: In the Fan Alley, I wound up exchanging cards with Matta’s real-life alter-ego, and she gave me a button with the Café Verführen logo. I gave her a Tybalt button in return, but take this how you will.

This is a fairly late review, mostly because I kept throwing out my earlier drafts. I don’t like rehashing old reviews, and most of what I said in last year’s writeup still holds true. It seems inadequate, though; there’s something magically captivating about the Café, something hard to pin down and describe. The experience is enchanting, somehow much more than the sum of its parts.

On one level, the Café is just that: a café. In that role, it’s one of the better places to eat at the convention. For about eight dollars, the hotel will hand you two thoroughly mediocre hot dogs from the warming tray, or a high-school-cafeteria hamburger and a bag of chips. For about the same price, the Café will serve you a plate of chicken teriyaki, with steamed vegetables that add color and balance out the softer textures of chicken and rice. Come the inevitable slow, lazy Sunday morning, the hotel will sell you the same hot dogs or hamburger, but the Café staff prepares a special prix-fixe menu, with pastries from a local bakery, tea sandwiches (your choice, salmon, cucumber, or a little of both), and little chocolate-dipped Belgian cookies.

I won’t say that it’s perfect, but its flaws are small and charming. Ryusei admits to a certain chronic tardiness. Hotel management hands down a few restrictions; I think Matta would like more fire in his kitchen. Still, I think my biggest personal complaint comes from the disappearance of mineral water from the dinner menu. It’s an incredibly small thing, totally understandable, but I like mineral water, and I feel compelled to complain about something, just so that this post will not turn into an uninterrupted wall of effusive praise.

In general, though, the Café is a wonderful at-con retreat for those who would prefer to enjoy their food rather than merely to refuel, to dine rather than to feed.

That’s not the magic of Café Verführen, though. Café Verführen is more than just a place to eat.

Give the staff a little bit of your time, and Café Verführen comes alive.

In one of my earlier drafts, I wrote: I get the feeling that neither Matta nor Ryusei would be satisfied with “good enough”. Matta would object, I think, because it would offend his work ethic, Ryusei because it would offend his ego. This says a lot about the staff and their dedication to improving on what they’ve done before, but more importantly, it says a lot about the characters that they’ve created, and the way they’ve led me to relate to them. They have history and motives, endearing quirks and real depth.

When poor Sebastian called in with the mother of all sick excuses, quarantined at Narita under suspicion of carrying H1N1, I had to laugh, because it’s a very clever way to handwave that someone couldn’t make it to the con… but part of me wanted to know that he’d be OK and arrive home soon. Jacob’s dry aura of frustration makes it easy to see why he has long talks with the company counselor, and Nishi’s affectionate concern seems only natural when he promises his friend a ride after work. Faced with such an extreme staff shortage, even Matta was pulled out of the kitchen to wait tables, and I didn’t have to stay afterwards to know that he would be grumbling about it for hours.

Ryusei hung out a Help Wanted sign, attracting the attention of “Bob” (actually another Sebastian, of Kuroshitsuji fame). “Bob” had a little trouble adjusting, but he seemed to get in the spirit of things quickly enough. His various torments and indignities were fun and endearing, and I hope to see “Bob” return in the future, not only because he likes my kitty ears, but because he’s become a part of the Café Verführen story.

That’s the thing that sets Café Verführen apart, the thing that makes me place my reservations the hour the guest list opens, the thing that makes me rewrite my review over and over, trying to do justice to all the people and all the planning involved. Fanservice is easy, but chemistry is hard. Chemistry is more powerful, though, more valuable, and ultimately more fulfilling, and it’s there that the Café really shines. It doesn’t need to take its clothes off to enchant its guests; it can do that with plot and substance, refinement and understated charm. It can pull me into its little dream-world story, and it can make me care.

Café Verführen’s magic is very simple. It’s summed up in just five words, and as long as it doesn’t change, I’ll keep coming back for years.

Café Verführen makes me believe.

Rather than try to force them, I thought it would be best to just share them with you all at once. I hope I’ve captured some feeling of the con’s friendly exuberance for you.

The con really begins in the registration line, so I’m happy to say that the volunteers are some of the friendliest people you’ll find anywhere. That even includes D’Ann, despite her disconcerting fascination with scissors. I promised her a pair of bootlaces if she should get in touch with me, but I haven’t heard back yet.

During a lull in registrations, Elysium, one of the “official” boys, did a little dance for us.

Major kudos to YaoiCon staff for arranging Nase Yamato’s appearance as Guest of Honor, especially on such short notice. Originally, Youka Nitta was scheduled to attend, but a plagiarism scandal ended with her leaving the manga industry, at least for the forseeable future. A lot of people turned up to meet her, enough that the staff had to arrange a second autograph session, which also overflowed. She seemed to appreciate all the fans who came out to see her, and she made sure to add a little drawing to her autographs. I can only imagine how much her hand hurt afterwards.

One thing I like particularly about YaoiCon is seeing the creative projects that spring up spontaneously, and the longer-term ones that fans bring to share. For example, the Cup Contest seems to be a new tradition of quick, communal art. On the other extreme, one artist is doing Gundam Wing fanart in needlepoint. She has a LiveJournal account to share her progress, but I neglected to get the address from her. If anyone out there knows, please let me know so I can post a link.

I only have a few other YaoiCon thoughts left floating around in my head, and I’m not entirely sure if I’ll write them up yet. We’ll see.

To visit, I had to leave the frantic, hurried energy of the con; it takes up an inconspicuous, well-furnished suite tucked away on the third floor of the hotel. There was a small line waiting by the door when I arrived, but Café Verführen seats only twenty-two at capacity, which kept the group small and patient. Everyone was seated in short order, more or less on time. I can’t imagine that the two cafés attract substantially different clientele, so I’m left crediting the room’s accoustics for keeping the background noise to a low murmur. The quiet was a very nice touch; even when the evening ran a little behind schedule, the atmosphere stayed relaxed and graciously unhurried.

Having experienced (and enjoyed) the (non-professional) host-café as both server and guest now, I have a hard time expressing how much I admire what Café Verführen has created. Details like that make the difference between a great event and a mediocre one, and the details are where they sweep the field. They’ve created something full of little refinements, tiny considerations of the nuances of their guest experience. Some of them are as simple as sheets of paper; the menus weren’t printed on plain white bond, and they weren’t stack-cut to quarter-sheet. The drinks are served in glass, not Styrofoam. Those sound small, almost inconsequential, and on one level they are, but on another they’re tactile, hardwired directly to the brain, and I felt the difference even through gloves. Those choices have weight, in a very literal way, and even if they weren’t made consciously, weight has meaning; it feels like a natural manifestation of a commitment to do things right.

I felt a sense of pride coming from the staff – not arrogance, just confident, fannish pride, a friendly sort of Look at this wonderful thing we’ve made to share with you – and I think it’s well-justified. Our food came arranged on small, comfortable plates, simple and well-executed. One of my tablemates ordered a cocktail, some beautifully colorful concoction decorated with lemon and cherry, and mentioned that, even half-consumed, it looked like it had come out of some food-porn magazine studio.

N.B.: not all of the cocktails are fancy or proper; one I noticed consisted of a can of soda topped in whipped cream. I’m sure there’s a story behind that. This is almost expected when the sealed packets on the tables are not, in fact, moist towelettes.

As food-centric a person as I can be, though, I have to say that host cafés should not be slightly-pricey at-con restaurants; the hosts should be their star attractions. Again, Café Verführen shines through in the details. Almost by necessity the YaoiCon Café’s boys exist in vacuums, apart from one another, if they step in-character at all; it’s hard to construct a milieu where so many different characters (from so many different worlds and genres) can wait tables side by side. On the other hand, Café Verführen has a unified sense of identity, and it gives the staff room to create not only distinct, in-context personas, but also chemistry.

For example, the chef is temperamental about his kitchen, and he commonly shouts at waiters and underlings who get in his way, even threatening them with bodily harm. Sometimes he even locks horns with his half-brother, the owner; in perfect YaoiCon fashion they manage to kiss and make up once their tempers cool. Even in lower-key moments it’s hard to escape the feeling that these characters have lives that their guests never see; Jacob, one of the servers, is an artist in his off-time, and he can’t resist signing the desserts he serves, or decorating them with flourishes and hearts. In one-off comments, in-jokes, and body-language, the staff suggest that we’re only seeing a few scattered pages out of some longer, cohesive narrative. As much as Jacob likes to sulk and mutter about the drama surrounding him, I think that even he would admit that it’s a pleasure to be drawn in, at least for a little while.

All this said, Café Verführen isn’t perfect; for all its polished details, it misses one or two, slipping out of character here and there to remind us of its charming, fannish roots. It might be better that way; I think I might feel exploited afterwards, almost offended, if it were too professional.

I’m gushing a little bit, I know, because it struck a chord with me, something more important than a light dinner and an evening’s entertainment. Last year, after serving, I said that our guests deserved better than what we offered. For this visit, at least, Café Verführen was the better that I hoped we could have given.

Every year I start looking forward to the next convention almost before I finish recovering from the one just past. Every year I’ve made new friends and caught up with old ones; every year I’ve found a few special thoughts and memories to digest and make part of myself. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration that falling in with this particular crowd has actually helped me become a better person for all the experiences I’ve found with them. Obviously I have a tendency to overthink just a little bit, but it’s a tremendously inclusive event: some people go just to shop; some go to meet other fans; others still just enjoy the sheer exuberant energy that cons always seem to breed. I’m convinced that some people go because they are incredibly bad at masturbating, but this is another essay entirely.

I’ve attended five YaoiCons now, but this was the first time I didn’t have any specific, official involvement. Originally I was slated (tentatively) to work the Sunday Brunch, but when I called to check in that morning, Gothkitti told me not to worry about it. At first I was a bit worried about letting him down (he’s a good friend of mine and I do enjoy helping out with his events where I can), but after a good night’s sleep and some time to unwind I think he was being merciful. By that time I’d already worked ten hours as a regular volunteer, and I’m sure would have knocked myself out completely trying to bring my best game to the tables. If any of you out there attended, I would love to hear your impressions.

On the other hand, I did attend Café Veführen, the other café held at YaoiCon. I heard it mentioned several times after I posted about my serving experiences last year, and it felt important to see what others were doing with the concept. Later, after I’ve organized my pictures a little bit, I’ll post my thoughts about it in a separate review; right now, up front, I will say that I was thoroughly impressed and I would love to visit again.

Being such a long-time attendee does have one drawback, though; the con has grown enormously and I’m sometimes a bit unsure what people want to know or hear about. For the month of October, then, if you have any questions or you’d like to hear my thoughts on something in particular, please do feel free to speak up. I’ll try to cover as much as possible.

Edit: That was YaoiCon 2008, not 2009. Thanks, senshixdoukeshi.

Lately though, I think my favorite stories come from an adventurer named Kino. They are collected in a nice little box called, appropriately, Kino’s Journey. Kino is not a professional, though she is very good at adventuring. Like your friendly neighborhood Catboy (me), Kino is short, friendly, cheerful, and often not entirely sure where she is going (professional adventurers know where they are going, even if they are not sure how to get there exactly). She does have a map, which is helpful, and the ever-important distinctive hat. Most importantly, though, she (and her companion, a talking motorcycle named Hermes) understands that is the getting-there and not the “there” at the end that is important about adventuring.

Kino’s world is a place full of wonder, slightly super-technological and slightly magical at the same time. Most notably it is missing airplanes and CD players and things like this, even though there are holograms, clever Victorian-looking robots, and very big computers with mysterious panels of blinky lights. It is almost like a fairy tale that way, a little bit out of step with the normal flow of time. Also it is like a fairy tale because it is a compellingly moral sort of world; Kino spends an awful lot of time having to consider the necessity of her guns and the strange justice (or injustice) of the countries she wanders through (most of the time they are really closer to large walled towns).

Even though some of the countries are not very nice (some of them are just plain dangerous), Kino believes that “the world is not beautiful; therefore it is.” What she means by this is that even the unpleasant and dangerous parts of the world make the world a more beautiful place in which to live, because they make people appreciate how wonderful the rest really is.

This is a thought of which I approve very much, partly because it is a little bit like my “flakes, raisins, and almonds” theory. I do recommend that you enjoy Kino’s story for yourself.

Gas is expensive in big cities, but it’s even more expensive out in the middle of nowhere. A reasonably efficient car can take you a very long way on three or five gallons of gas, and it’s nice not to be held hostage to gas stations on the side of the road. So part of this habit is just good economics.

From time to time you find stranded drivers, out of gas on unfamiliar roads. I’ve coasted from station to station, raiding the dregs left in the hoses, and pulled into an all-night gas stations with the needle scraping bottom, so I know how it can feel. It’s a very uncomfortable, helpless kind of feeling. With a gas can, I can pull over and offer a little assistance. Even if I’m low myself, splitting the can will usually take someone to safety (unless he drives an H2 – then it’s his own fault). I never take money for the fuel, just a promise to buy a gas can and make the roads just a little bit safer, just a little bit friendlier.

Pay it forward.

The seals on my old plastic can have been degrading and I don’t feel comfortable with it anymore, so I looked around for a new one. Justrite Manufacturing makes a fantastic Type 2 safety can, one with a vent hole to relieve pressure and make pouring easier. It’s a fairly pricey can, more than twice what I paid for the plastic one it replaces, but the safety features are fantastic. I couldn’t be happier with the construction.

The greatest thing, though, is Justrite’s service. As it turns out, I bought a slightly different can than I needed – mine came with a 1″ nozzle, which turns out to be slightly larger than the average car is actually designed to accept. The nozzles are detachable, so I emailed them about the possibility of ordering and fitting the 5/8″ tube and nozzle to make refueling just a little bit easier.

Monday evening I checked my mail and found that they’d sent me the parts I needed, no charge, no questions. It was just their friendly way of standing behind their product and taking care of me, of making sure that it was as safe and effective as they promised it would be.

Given the reasons I carry one, that seems appropriate, somehow.

This year was very different, and on the whole I don’t think I mind at all. If staff asks me to return I’ll be more than happy to accept. I loved meeting everyone – other servers, constaff, and guests alike. We had some scheduling difficulties and I only formally served one table, but I got to circulate and meet quite a few people. Everyone (servers included) was exhausted and I presume cranky from the two-hour-plus wait, but they were still some of the most friendliest, most wonderfully enthusiastic people I’ve ever met. Their sheer energy carried me through the night, long after I should have staggered off somewhere quiet and collapsed, and I loved every minute of it. Even dead on my feet, I wished I had more time to meet all of them, and then more time to know them better.

I think that’s why I have to stand up and say this now.

To everyone who came to visit us at the Cafe, if any of you are reading this…

I am profoundly sorry for what we served to you that night. It was an embarrassment and you deserve better.

The Cafe was themed around “Western High Tea“, a light meal at the end of the day. “Tea Service” offered “a selection of finger sandwiches, salad, and dessert”, while “Sweet Service” offered “an assortment of cookies and pastries”. It’s a lovely little idea, and a great way for the con to raise funds for its ever-increasing expenses. I don’t think anyone expected it to live up to an immaculate fine-china fantasy.

That said, we could have tried.

I have been called a stiff-necked elitist on more than one occasion, and I suspect that I will be called this (and other colorful variants) on many more. Still, I can’t ignore the feeling that “Western High Tea” implied something slightly more than packaged cold-cuts, Kraft American Cheese Singles, and basic yellow mustard on grocery-store bread. Even three weeks after the fact, I have trouble with “Sweet Service” meaning “brownie bites, bulk-pack cookies, and two cream puffs”. Something seems fundamentally wrong to me when “Tea Service” consists of bringing out hot water in paper cups for our guests to steep their own teabags.

It seems slightly wrong when teabags or paper cups are involved at all, really, but I will be the first to admit that this is a personal eccentricity.

Again, I don’t suggest that anyone should have expected white-gloved service, Escribá pastries, or Wedgwood china. Even at a restaurant, you can only expect so much for your $10 or $5 order. Ultimately the Cafe is a fundraiser, and you expect to overpay a little for the good of the convention.

At the same time, that’s not the point, is it? You expect the convention to treat you with respect, as more than a source of funds, and, most importantly, as a friend and guest. You should get some kind of token nod to the fantasy that you’re indulging. At least for your half-hour session, we should have made you believe in that “extra dash of decadence.”

I don’t think it would actually be that hard. We served sandwiches, so let’s take a look at one of those. It starts with a perfectly-grilled slice of chicken breast – cooked-through, but not dry – and tops it with fresh slices of mango and provolone cheese. A light poppyseed dressing adds a little subtlety, along with basil pesto, avocado, red onions, and just a little bit of other greenery. You can choose your bread, brought in fresh from the bakery every morning. Personally I prefer the ciabatta, but it also works wonderfully in lavash, toasted slightly in a press. Instead of bag salad, let’s cut it fresh, and use watermelon instead of canned Mandarin oranges.

Maybe mango isn’t high on your list of favorite fruits, or provolone offends your tastes in cheese. Would that sound better with Asian pears and soft baby Brie? Maybe you’d like to dress it with garlic aioli, grilled onions, and romaine hearts instead.

It wouldn’t be too hard to remake the Sweets Service, either. Off to the left you can see my version: two cinnamon-ginger cookies, a raspberry-almond pastry, a raspberry-brandy truffle chocolate, and a fresh fruit tart. The cookies snap attentively when you bite them, and the pastries crumble in just the right way. The chocolate is rich and creamy, a wonderful complement to the brandy’s slight, fiery edge.

After all that, I think we could pass on the sheet cake.

Am I dreaming too big? Is this too much to expect? Would the con lose money trying to serve this? I don’t think so. Food is cheap in America, even in the Bay Area. The Cafe could have served anything I’ve mentioned here and come out well in the black. Either of the sandwiches costs $8.55 from a restaurant in downtown San Jose. We could bring that down to fundraiser levels by making two sandwich halves, one with a lightly dressed chicken breast and cheese, the other with fruit and cucumber. I don’t like cucumber much, but it seems to be traditional in tea party sandwiches and we’ll include it anyways.

My Sweets Service ran a little over, coming to $6.50 at the counter. I asked the managers, though, what if I were making the same order for, say, a hundred and fifty people? Well, they could perhaps give me a volume discount for that, and the chocolates come much more affordably in boxes – bringing my guesstimated average to $4.50/person. Removing the chocolate would bring that to $3.50 or so, which seems like a fairly reasonable margin for a fundraiser.

Think about this for a moment, and then think about what we served you.

It’s an embarrassment.

You deserve better.

It’s almost reflexive to blame someone for this, to say that someone was too greedy, that someone should be replaced, but I really have no idea who that might be. I know Gothkitti personally, and he puts more of himself into the con than I ever could. I would be perfectly willing to believe that he would have us serve fresh crème brûlées if he could trust the servers with the blowtorches. The kitchen volunteers worked miracles with what they had. It’s a testament to their work that our Cafe was even as believable as it was. They don’t get nearly the recognition that they deserve. We could blame the hotel, which doesn’t allow outside catering, and I doubt we could actually make our own. Even then, the only hotels in the area that do are either much too small or much too large.

I’m left without a demon, really, without anything to hate or any way to make this better. All I have is this vague and unsettling sense of disappointment, and all I have to offer is this meager apology.

It’s not enough. You deserve better.

Always,
-Adrian