24

FRIDAY

I wept last May when Food for Thought forever closed its tired door to the unlikely crew of regulars—hip freaks, hippie fogies, yuppies—who found common solace in vegan peanut butter pie. I mourned not because Dupont Circle would be left bereft of avocado spread served by a laconic wait staff, but because Mike Elosh—a singer-songwriter with the skill to expose the scarred underbelly of a good-time drinking tune and the muscle to smack a love song’s tired plot square in the kisser—would no longer be playing in D.C. Even though FFT was his lone District gig, stepping offstage his last night there—in his trademark black suit and white cowboy hat—he confessed that he had wanted to cancel the performance. But he eventually recanted: “It’s hard to tell the missus you canceled a show when you only play six times a month.” He fingers steel strings into submissive grace tonight at 8 p.m. at St. Elmo’s Coffee Pub, 2300 Mount Vernon Ave., Alexandria. Free. (703) 739-9268. (Dan Gilgoff)