Avalon Advice

Nothing says happy hour quite like death (you can quote me on that). At least that must have been what the Gallery 5 folks were thinking when they planned tonight's Gallery 5 After 5 event, "Viva La Muerte."

My favorite local flamenco guitarist Frankzig was the musical entertainment (even greeting me at the door, but then I'm a longtime fan), VCU's Andrew Chestnut was speaking on "The Cult of Saint Death," and as a bonus, they were showing a short film, "Death."

Throw in free hors d'oeuvres and who could resist such a deadly start to their Wednesday evening? Tonight's crowd was even bigger than the last two months, so word must be getting around about the lure of drink specials and short, compelling lectures.

More than a few people took the time to check out the mixed-media exhibition upstairs as well as the altar downstairs, which was covered in offerings. Some of us just mingled, made new friends and watched Frankzig's flying fingers.

After Chestnut told us about Latin America's most popular folk saint and the way Catholicism and death worshiping are peacefully co-existing, I had to leave to meet a friend for dinner. I didn't want to miss the film screening, but had no choice but to honor my social obligation.

Naturally I came home to a message from a friend saying, "The movie was great!" He was the same one who gave me a hard time when I said I had to go, saying, "Well you could just call your friend and tell him you're going to be late...oh, wait, you don't have a cell phone." He's so funny.

My dinner partner was the borrowed husband I raved about here, and he was already (and given my tardiness, thankfully) into his heavily bruised martini when I arrived.

He too teased me about my inability to let him know I was running late (clearly I choose my friends for the hard time they give me) and we settled in to catch up for the first time since Labor Day.

Silly us, we thought we could chat over drinks for an hour before ordering. Wrong. When we asked for menus at 8:10, we were told the kitchen had just closed. At 8:10? Seriously?

Never ones to be discouraged, we just walked up to the next block and took stools at Avalon. Jason was more than happy to be of service and you know with Avalon that they're in it for the long haul.

We began with the butter-poached salmon and Gruyere pate with parsnip flatbread. It was a good-sized serving, rich from both the butter and the cheese, and contrasted well with the crisp and flavorful flatbread.

Try as we might, we couldn't make the two come out evenly, so Jason slipped us some extra flatbread so we could finish it down to the last creamy bite. We were getting surprisingly full off of this course (and that excellent crusty focaccia with the mystery spices) so we jumped right into the next one before we could change our minds.

Sweet potato and butternut squash gnocchi with cinnamon sage cream sauce was listed under the vegetable portion of the tapas menu, but let's be honest, this was a plate of dessert.

Between the natural sweetness of the potatoes, the spicy cinnamon and all that cream enveloping everything, what it boiled down to was a whole lot of sweet tooth satisfaction, not that we were complaining.

The gnocchi was light as a feather; it was all that cream that made it so decadent, but we soldiered on because we're troopers about stuff like that. You know, eating.

My friend told me that he no longer has to check in with his wife while we're out because I have been deemed a nice person (read: safe). I told him I'd decided to get over the hump that has been my personal life.

"Thank god!" he said with no sarcasm. "It was getting old." Just like me, apparently. "You're not going to have all these choices forever," he warned ominously.

Clearly I pick my friends to give me a hard time and to be blunt. They're smiling hugely when they say this stuff, but I know they mean every word.

I hear you, guys. I don't know how you've held your tongues for this long.