An Old Editor and the New Empress

Why do I continue to try to navigate that hellacious UR campus when inevitably I end up driving in circles unable to find the building I seek? When I stop and ask for help from students, I hear things like, "Dunno. I'm the wrong person to ask." Really? Isn't someone paying a lot of money for you to attend classes here? Don't you know your own campus?

Tonight's destination was a lecture by longtime RTD city editor Earl Dunford on the subject of "Second Thoughts on Writing a Book." This guy graduated UR in 1948 and was city editor for the Richmond Times Dispatch for something like 36 "mostly happy years," so he'd seen some seismic shifts in the culture during his tenure. As a former RTD employee, I was curious to hear stories from an old-school newspaperman.

When asked to write a history of the RTD, starting with its origins as four separate papers (The Times, The Dispatch, The News and The Leader), he begged off saying he was an editor, not a writer, someone who aimed to "improve other people's work," not have other people improve his. So of course he was persuaded. He was even told by the great Stewart Bryant that he wanted "a history that would be warts and all," which Dunford delivered. I have no doubt that, much like today, there were plenty of warts to reveal.

Escaping that vortex of a campus, I headed straight for Broad Street's newest social food destination, The Empress, at the old Enoteca location. What a beautiful ambiance the new owners have wrought out of the dark and unappealing ashes of Enoteca. About all that remains of the former space is the bar, but even that's been moved.

Church pews were cut down and lined with cushions and pillows for lounging. The chairs are from the old Cabo's. The curtains are thankfully gone, opening up the windows to the activity and characters of Broad Street (One random girl stuck her head in the door and asked a standing customer if he had fourteen cents. When he said no, she gave him a confused look, backed out, and came back in to look at him again, still clearly bewildered).

The owner Melissa came over to take my order and I couldn't help complimenting her on the variety and pricing of the menu (labeled 'Evening Types 5:00 p.m. to 11:00 p.m.'). Nothing was over $13 and most were $10 or lower; there was everything from a meat and cheese plate to quiche to a grilled lamb chop. She told me that the menu items were planned with sharing in mind and the restaurant designed for slow eating and lounging; all of a sudden I regretted not having brought a companion.

I was thrilled to see that the part of the menu devoted to "For the Sweet Tooth" indicated dessert service until 1:00 a.m. and told her so. She said that she felt the same way and her love of late sweets was nurtured in Italy where people sat around socializing and enjoying dessert, especially gelato, until 3 a.m. I told her that many was the time I wanted dessert late when others were content with just alcohol and she knew exactly what I meant; here was a kindred dessert soul.

The place is very green with a recycling station, compostable paper products, including dinner napkins, and loads of reclaimed and recycled products used in the renovation. This led to a discussion of buying clothes from consignment and thrift shops, something it turned out, both she and I do. She bragged on her vintage blue step stool, the kind where the steps fold out like we all had in out childhood kitchens; this one purchased from everyone's favorite, the For the Love of Jesus thrift store on southside.

After placing my order, I heard her talking away in the kitchen and she returned with an amuse bouche for me, a baguette slice with pancetta, a sliced cornichon and a Gorgonzola reduction. Mmm, my bouche was most certainly amused. Not long after the chef came out with my beef carpaccio with shaved Manchego, arugula, black sea salt and fresh toasted sourdough. She introduced herself as Carly and told me that Melissa had been telling her what an interesting person I was so she came out to meet me; I call this very good service. I commented on the black sea salt and was delivered a smoked gray sea salt to try.

Just as I was about to dive into my chocolate soup with grilled fruit, a certain man-about-town and Richmond writer dropped by after work and was persuaded to have a few beers (note to my gluten-intolerant friends: the owners both have Celiac's so they carry Bard's gluten-free beer), giving me a terrific conversational partner on the topic of theater, architecture, Richmond neighborhoods and history, among other things. I didn't need to bring a companion after all; one just magically appeared.

Also magically appearing was a bowl of cracklins being offered by Carly, "if you want some." And who wouldn't? Freshly fried and still warm, I can't imagine who would decline such a delicious offering. Don't look at me; I helped myself and then came back for more.

Melissa showed us her $7 couch which she'd reupholstered herself; I lounged on it fainting couch-style and was told it looked good underneath me. It was extremely comfortable and she admitted to having fallen asleep on it frequently in recent months, only to be awakened by her 6:30 a.m. breakfast crew. There's a vintage wine storage unit that looks like a bottle of wine, another wine cabinet with the most amazing sliding door on it and several pieces of sculpture by local Nicholai Jerome that need to be seen.

Carly described their roles as, "I cook; she does everything else" and I asked them how, as a couple, do they have any time at all for a life. Apparently that's on hold for the moment, which is too bad for them but great for the eating and hanging out crowd. You know, people like me.

Luckily they're already married and since they work together, they don't have to be out and about with people hoping to meet the right one. You know, people like me.