Talent vs. Pac-Man

I once had a seafood terrine so well-done that when I finished eating it, I immediately ordered another. That was at the Inn at Montross back in the 90s and I've never forgotten it or had a comparable one since.

Until tonight.

I spent the day road tripping on the Northern Neck doing research for a piece I'm writing on wineries (I know, I know, but somebdy's got to do it). For road music, I went all-girl today: Nellie McKay for theatrics, Petula Clark for the retro touch and Neko Case for that voice and the heartbreak. Women and wine, it just made sense.

When I got home, I had a call from a friend suggesting dinner, but after a solitary day alone with my thoughts, I wasn't ready to do the dinner companion thing, at least not well, so I declined and decided on Aziza's alone instead.

Perfect choice. My favorite server welcomed me in, poured me the Marques de Riscal Tempranillo and gave me a moment with the menu, saying, "I don't need to explain any of that to you." No indeed.

And there it was, waiting for me: scallop and lobster terrine with mixed greens, leeft (turnips pickled in beet and jalapeno juice), pickled onions and anchovy aioli. Oh. My. God.

The slices of creamy terrine, with their delicate flavor and full of chunks of seafood, were atop a creamy lobster sauce set off perfectly by the tang of the leeft and the salty ailoi.

One bite and I was transported back to that restaurant on the Northern Neck that had introduced me to this dish. How had it taken so long for me to enjoy that sublime taste again?

Between the wine, the crusty bread, the terrine, and the Sinatra bandstand channel they were playing, it was a perfect meal.

My server friend provided just enough conversation when I wasn't reading the Post article about six DC chefs losing weight despite the restaurant lifestyle (kind of fascinating, actually). I couldn't have asked for anything more (alright, maybe...).

When it came time to make the big decision (cream puff: yea or nay?), she helped swing my vote to wine over dessert with a most compelling argument. Besides, that puff really is enormous for one person, not that I'm not talented in the dessert arena, although certainly less so than I once was. Wine it was.

The other server later joined our conversation on Fresca and food at Bottom bars, and I listened to their thoughts on the Biggest Loser and the Oprah channel (unable to contribute much to TV topics), as they did their end-of-the-night duties while I finished my wine (and they finished theirs, Aziza's being closed by then).

From there, I went to Strange Matter for a show by the uber-talented Julie Karr, a performer whose shows I try not to miss.

For those who aren't familiar with her amazing talent, she has a sort of Fiona Apple voice, full of deepness and clarity. As I stood there surrounded by people who had never heard her before, I eavesdropped on their comments as they tried to wrap their heads around her raspy, beautiful voice.

She began by saying, "I forgot when you play here you compete with video games and the sounds of fighting demons like Pac-man." Honestly, Strange Matter's 80s video games were no match for what she was putting out.

And, because she's the self-deprecating type, she apologized for her guitar sounding jangly ("like an Indian adventure cruise") and her voice being congested (she's just over three days of the flu). No one in the room would have noticed either.

After a set of heartbreak and longing, she closed with an a capella number that silenced the room. Her gravelly ode to a match with the devil was mesmerizing. And, in typical Julie fashion, she finished with a joke about buying her CD so you could hear her some more.

The fact is, her voice stays with you like the taste of a magnificent seafood terrine. But even with a golden memory, you still want to experience it for real again.

Tonight I got to do both. Lucky me.