Bar Hopping on a Saturday Night

With nothing cultural calling to me tonight, I decided to do an abbreviated pub crawl after seeking out a graffiti show in Scott's Addition to no avail. Without anything better to do, why not spend some quality time with a couple of my favorite bartenders?

Leading the parade was Josh at Six Burner, always a reliable source of music talk and good banter. Since I was in the mood for white wine, he suggested the Vernaccia di S. Gimighano and I took the bait, enjoying its crisp dryness. I was pleased to learn that 6B is starting up their live music series again and we reminisced about some of the craziness of past shows, including the memorable winter sweat-fest, here.

Josh brought out an amuse bouche in the form of a tiny pie-shaped wedge of pork rillette with minute Granny Smith apple chunks, mustard seed and chives. Honestly, it was the perfect portion because, for me, even an appetizer- sized serving of pork rillette quickly becomes too rich, too much. Retrieving my plate afterwards, Josh asked, "Amused?" All signs pointed to yes.

There were several new items on the menu so I decided on the squash blossoms stuffed with smoked salmon, Parmesan and squash with curry squash sauce. Oh. My. Goodness. I took that first bite and was transported back to my first taste of a squash fritter.

When I began my 13-year stint on Floyd Avenue in the 90s, my 70+ neighbor Bertha was good enough to offer to share the bounty of her veggie garden with me. The first time she brought me squash, though, she asked me in a suspicious tone what I was going to do with it and whether I knew how to make squash fritters. I didn't.

She gave me her crusty old recipe and I made my first squash fritter batter and fried them up in a cast iron skillet. I still remember that initial bite and wondering how I'd never tasted squash in such a magnificent guise up until that moment. Tonight's squash gave me that same rush of fried and fresh.

A bite or two in and Josh came over to check on me. "This is freaking awesome," I said, willing better words to come. "I know. It's badass, isn't it?" Josh returned. There were the words I had been seeking. Badass squash, that was it.

Later the server T. came over to probe. "What are you doing here on a Saturday night, Karen?" he inquired. "You're messing with my whole concept of the week." It's true, I don't often visit 6B on a Saturday night, but I wasn't expecting to be called out on it. either. Just another pleasure of being a regular.

With promises of CDs to come later in the week from Josh, I said goodnight only after getting his approval for my next stop: Balliceaux and the equally music-savvy Austin. He was fine with handing me off to a fellow bartender he knew would be up to the job.

Walking down Lombardy Street, I saw a large illustrated banner hanging from a nearby apartment. It read, "Don't tread on me. GO US! Beat England" Such patriotism on a Saturday night! Balliceaux was partly full but hardly hopping and the bar completely empty when I walked in, so I figured Austin would appreciate the company and and he was already waving me back before I was halfway through the restaurant.

We talked about his upcoming trip to Cambridge, MA and I advised him to bring his bike to take advantage of the abundance of bike lanes, not to mention a car culture that actually allows for safe and enjoyable biking everywhere. Personally, I loved it. He was psyched to say the least.

Meanwhile, I was poured a glass of the Broadbent Vino Verde as we slipped into talk of Yeasayer, Mrs. Robinson and Stevie Wonder. He'd been at the Broken Bells show at the 9:30 Club Monday night, so I got his take on that show, after having just read the Post's review of it.

A couple of barsitters came in and ordered and I couldn't resist commenting on their pork belly. It turned out to be yet another instance where I got incredibly lucky. We got to talking food and restaurants and it turned out that this charming couple eats out five nights a week. Soul mates! I never meet anyone who eats out as much as I do, so we talked for hours about just about every restaurant in the city (and even a few outside it).

For the most part, our opinions dovetailed and then one or the other of us would share a specific bit of information that the other didn't know. The male half of the couple identified himself as anal when he sheepishly told me that he keeps a list on his phone of every food culture represented in RVA.

Not surprisingly given that, he also keeps a spreadsheet of all their restaurant visits, which puts them in a whole different league than me. I just like to eat and spreadsheets make me nervous. But they were great fun to talk to and we exchanged information in hopes of meeting up again. They even shared their semolina-olive oil cake with lemon and ginger with me, so you know we'd become fast friends by then (my favorite part was the icing).

Shortly thereafter the bar was nearing empty and it was time to end my pub crawl. The evening ended with one of the kitchen guys coming out for a shot and to enthusiastically talk World Cup briefly with us before he was off to meet friends. "Come back on Tuesday," he said, pointing at me. "And wear that dress!"

Interesting the people you meet when you bypass culture for pub crawling. It's all so very interesting.