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Why Damon Dash Hates Mondays


About 11 P.M., there’s a knock at the door, and a skinny man in a baby-blue leather jacket and matching Timberlands enters. It’s Chef Chardon, a leading caterer in the hip-hop world, as well as a rapper. Dash had an assistant call him, and he’s driven in from New Jersey with a feast. “What’s up?” he says.

“Chef Chardon!” Dash says. “I’m fucking starving is what’s up.”

The chef begins opening a stack of large foil trays. The music comes back on, and everybody digs in. “Right here, I’ve got my barbecued urban-suburban ribs,” Chef Chardon offers. “Urban-suburban, that’s my cuisine. I got my backyard barbecue chicken. And my urban-suburban Cajun rice. And then shrimp—it’s just sautéed in my own garlic-butter sauce. I don’t even have a name for it.”

“We’ll come up with something,” Dash says, bouncing with delight. “It’s all good. We got food, we got drink. We have a long night ahead.”


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