Secco Redux

My plans to meet a friend for happy hour were scuttled at the last moment because she wasn't feeling well. I momentarily considered staying home but it's my birthday week, so where's the fun in that? Instead I made my way to Carytown to see how crazy it's gotten at Secco since I was there last and perhaps have a bite to eat.

The place was perfectly manageable when I arrived (but it was early) and I easily snagged my stool of choice. Within moments, Can Can's king Bob Talcott came in looking very dapper indeed in a white blazer and blue shirt with a blue pocket square. After saying our hellos he asked what I was going to drink. I told him that that was up to him; why would I choose when I had a pro to do it for me?

The bartender brought out their two newest bottles for us to taste. The Vouvray was good, but the Chateau Cambon Beaujolais way more fun. Bob described it as, "Light, charming, unchallenging and not inclined to make one introspective." Who wouldn't want to drink such a wine? So we did.

Bob's topic of choice was the wine class he'd taught today, for which he used a song by country singer John Anderson as an analogy. That led to a discussion of country music in general and true country versus modern country. I have to say that it's the first conversation where someone brought up Juice Newton in a long time. About that time, Julia put on 'Karen's Secco mix' and Interpol filled the bar. I couldn't have been more delighted.

Bob admired the drapes that I'd made for Secco, which led to a discussion of boys who never wanted to take shop class, of which he was one. He wanted a lesson about Jackson Ward because despite 30+ years in rva, he felt he didn't know enough about it except its general vicinity and that its ironwork was noteworthy. The J-Ward girl in me filled him in on all he needed to know about my neighborhood.

Just as he was departing for a date, a nearby bar sitter struck up a conversation. He's a bartender elsewhere and I had noticed him sampling all over the Secco menu earlier. He was just finishing some white chocolate bark with candied black olives and offered me some of what he couldn't finish. I was wise enough not to go sweet before my dinner, though, and set it aside for later.

He'd been eavesdropping on my conversation with Bob and wanted to follow up on a few points (Balliceaux, the Belvidere, Six Burner, among others). And as is almost always the case around here, we had friends in common; he was later planning to see Josh of Six Burner, one of my regular music conversational partners. I even knew the chef who had told him to check out Secco, so we had plenty to talk about. When Kate Bush's "Running Up that Hill" came on my mix, I heard someone say, "Great song." I know.

When my food arrived, it caused a stir. I'd ordered the tempura-fried softshell crab with a warm salad of fiddlehead ferns, ramps and pioppini mushrooms and it sat there, a thing of beauty. Two women at a nearby table began oohing and aahing and asking what it was. Julia showed up to take a picture. The chef came out to ask what I thought about it (scrumptious). The guy I was talking to made complimentary comments. Let me tell you, as impressed as they were, it tasted even better than they could have imagined. Fiddelheads and softshells, oh my!

My new friend left but not before telling me where he worked and suggesting I come by for brunch and good conversation (his words). As I told him, I'm happy to eat alone as long as I stumble on someone worthy to talk to. He guaranteed it and left to Spoon's "Everything Hits at Once."

By this time, the bar was three deep with people waiting for tables; this was why I'd come early. I was close to asking for my check, but cheese was calling to me Their selection is unparalleled in Richmond, so I enlisted the help of my server. I told him I loved stinky cheeses, but had already had the Gorgonzola dolce and the Montenebro, and what could he do for me?

He returned with the Valdeon, a cow and goat's milk blue cheese from Spain, and as he presented it, he said, "This is gonna kick your ass!" to which I responded, "I want my ass kicked." It paired beautifully with another glass of Beaujolais and the Sondre Lerche playing in the background.

I took a break from cheese- eating long enough to say hello to a musician friend (of local band At the Stars) and his girlfriend who'd just come in. We run into each other a lot at shows, so I may have mentioned that the mix was mine, knowing he'd appreciate some of my choices. That led to a lengthy discussion of shows we'd both seen lately, causing his girlfriend to give up on us and stake out space on one of the couches until we finished.

After I'd scoured the plate of everything except the sycamore leaf wrap, it was time to go; the place was full of others waiting for a stool or table and I'd taken up space long enough. Besides, I'd reveled in charming wine, spring food, stinky cheese and multiple pleasurable conversations.

Birthday week or not, it was time to quit while I was ahead. I happily left with the strains of Pinback's "Fortress" in my ears.