A Little Dinner Music

It was almost as good as a scene from a 40s movie.

People were having dinner and drinking, some chatting softly, others raptly listening to the music.

The lights were up, so the focus was on eating and servers moved about discretely.

But the melodic strains of Jonathan Vassar and the Speckled Bird "on stage" transformed the meal into so much more of an urbane dining experience.

Kudos to Jason at Olio for bringing in a band music-lovers would almost certainly come to hear, to a place offering creative and affordable food and drink.

I've been a fan of the restaurant since my first wine dinner there back in 2008, but this was my first time experiencing the music/dinner combo.

Even the band acknowledged that they didn't expect customers to shut up for their sets, but many did, the better to appreciate the beautiful harmonies, variety of instruments and passion the musicians brought to the room.

I arrived during the second song and conveniently found waiting for me a two-top with a clear view of the band. It was kismet.

Perusing the menu, but never losing sight of the 100 degree temperatures outside, I opted for the Smoked Salmon Nicoise (Norwegian salmon, fresh goat cheese, roasted red peppers, cukes, roasted tomatoes and red onion with balsamic dressing).

It's enough to move, much less digest, on a day as warm as this.

It wasn't long before an old friend and his new girlfriend came in and asked if they could join me at my prime spot of a table.

Pointing a finger at me, my friend admonished, "I should have known you'd be here." Well, duh.

A restaurant I like providing a band I like during dinner hours? Can we see more of this please?

Before long I felt another friend's hand on my shoulder, so he too joined us and then someone's musician friends came and the table got livelier still.

But when Antonia of Speckled Bird started doing her vox saw, all conversation ceased.

Hearing the human voice mimic a saw in the context of a beautiful song mutes even strong men.

My friend looked at me incredulously, "She's doing that with her voice?" he marveled. Why, yes she is, so keep it down, will you?

It was too funny when early on a group walked into the restaurant just as the third song was ending.

Jonathan glanced over to welcome then and then gave them a quick update, saying,"You missed all the happy songs."

That's an oversimplification, of course, because while much of their folk/Americana sound has a mournful tone to it, other songs are just flat-out beautiful, if not skipping-under-the-rainbow cliched.

As my friend and I were sharing a tiramisu close to the meal, my older friend leaned over to educate the newer friend. "If you go out with Karen, you have to be prepared to share dessert," he said, stating the obvious.

And, for the record, I don't twist anyone's arm; I'm just willing to oblige someone's sweet tooth indulgence by sharing the calorie burden with him.

After their second set, the band said goodnight even as the audience called for an encore.

But the tiny Antonia, she of the beautiful new accordion and angelic voice, had to disappoint the adoring crowd.

"But I'm hungry. I'm going to get cranky if I don't eat soon."

She had more than sung for her supper (as had Jonathan and Chris), so the audience respected that, they were excused and conversation took off at a much higher decibel level.

Diners lingered, sipping and chatting, for another hour or so as the musicians ate and moved around the room.

It was all very civilized and even a bit old-school. I absolutely loved it.

Since it was still a reasonable hour (10ish) when I left, I parked my car at home and walked the two blocks to the Belvidere for a nightcap.

I hadn't been in weeks, which is a crying shame for a place I could crawl to.There were only a few diners at that point, but Ben had a mostly full bar with my seat conveniently open.

A nearby couple turned out to be Jackson Ward residents too, even having left the city once only to return for missing all it offers (walkability, better restaurants, endless cultural options).

We hit it off at once.

I ordered an 1800 on ice and shared with Ben the story of why I'd started drinking good tequila in the first place (let's just say it involved a lot of tequila, a lunchtime job interview and I got the job...'nuff said).

But what I really wanted to talk about was beer, not tequila.

I'd heard some scuttlebutt that the Belvidere was thinking of adding an ABC/off premise license to provide a take-home beer source for the neighborhood, something my beloved J-Ward falls a bit short on.

But what had piqued my interest was the possibility that they'd be offering growlers.

Given the Belvidere's eclectic and ever-changing selection of beers on tap, I have to think that there are plenty of RVA types who would be thrilled to be able to refill their growler right in the 'hood with something new and different every week.

I couldn't have been more excited about this idea if I drank beer myself.

Ben also believes in the idea for the same reasons I do. Now all we have to do is convince owners Julie and Dave that they need to become Richmond's growler central.

Musical dining and a local growler source, both concepts hearkening back to another era in city living.

It's like what the J-Ward couple said about the current state of life here: "Richmond's becoming a great town in spite of itself."

I'd go so far as to say that Richmond's becoming a great town because of itself. Enjoy.