Atomic Dinner and Duo

A couple of friends have told me that if they wake up and there’s no new post from me, they want to come to my house or call me to make sure I’m okay. Like dead is what I think they mean.

I’m not dead. But when I sat down in front of my computer at 1:15 last night, after an evening of superior eating and Americana music, Blogger failed me. Service unavailable.

What’s the point in sharing my stories if I can’t put them out there? On the other hand, I got to bed an hour earlier than usual.

It was too bad I couldn't immediately share, too, because I had met a couple of talented and offbeat musicians from Austin (definitely helping to keep Austin weird) who were scheduled to play at Gibson’s Grill tonight (they’re playing the Kennedy Center Monday night), which was our ultimate destination.

But music lovers gotta eat, so we went to Acacia first for dinner. Naturally they were mobbed, with outside and inside diners, but we got two stools at the bar.

One came from a waitress at Tarrant’s whom I’d just seen at lunch earlier in the day. She was stuffed and loopy after enjoying her first prix fix dinner at Acacia and gladly gave up her seat to leave for a party.

Tocco prosecco in hand, my companion and I eyed the menu, looking for the best of the best. I couldn’t talk him into sugar toads (doesn’t care for fried fish), but he was an easy sell for the rabbit schnitzel with fennel kraut and tarragon brown butter jus. Thin and crispy, it was just the right sized portion for such richness and the kraut made the dish.

It wasn’t too much harder to convince him to try the Peruvian-style tuna ceviche, enhanced with avocado, cucumbers and onion and topped by fried onions.

The small square was decadent with its perfectly ripe avocado binding the other ingredients together and the Peruvian pepper giving it a distinctive flavor.

Looking for a lovely libation to go with dinner, we got the Besserat de Bellefon Brut Rose NV, a delicately soft and creamy pink sparkler with a lingering finish that I could learn to drink every day of my life with no problem.

I’d just gotten the e-mail two days ago that Chef had gone to Urbanna for the first softshells of the season, so that was to be our entrée. He was serving them with creamy rice beans, sauteed ramps, baby carrots and wax beans in a lemon butter sauce.

More decadence. The velvet softshells in their delicate breading were plump and crispy, a savory reminder of how sadly short their season is

We preceded that with a salad of apples, raisins, cashews, mixed lettuces, and bleu cheese in a celery seed vinaigrette, the better to justify everything else.

It was as good a meal as I’ve had recently. It’s just that usually I eat at Acacia alone, as our bartender pointed out to my companion (good to know that my solitary status is always duly noted), so the addition of company upped the stakes (not to mention how much more I ate).

When we left there, the dining room was down to a few tables, but we wanted to catch as much as possible of the Atomic Duo’s set at Gibson’s.

I was surprised there weren’t more people at the show, but I’m not sure that Gibson’s does enough to promote their events and I guess it’s hard for traveling bands to notify fans in areas they haven’t played. Luckily, they’d done an interview at WRIR earlier, so that should help garner interest for future shows.

The Atomic Duo, also known as Fat Man and Little Boy, was Mark Rubin on guitar and Silas Lowe on mandolin (a job he referred to as the lowest of the low). Their onstage banter was smart and funny, my favorite combination.

Before their second set, the bartender brought them single malts and Mark attempted to do some pouring from one glass to another, spilling some on Silas’ thigh.

“If you lick my leg, this gig is over,” Silas deadpanned. “No one should have to say that at a show.”

These guys are pure Americana, favoring pre-1950s music and composing original material that sounds like it could have come from that era, in sound if not in lyrics.

Saying that he was born in 1981 and knew nothing besides trickle-down economics, Silas sang a song about the failure of just that.

“West Virginia Coalminers’ Blues” dealt with a more traditional subject matter. “Texas City” was done as a final song after an audience member brought up the city’s woes.

The duo said that their music was all from the pre-ironic period, not that they didn’t see the irony in just about everything.

They put aside their mics after a bit and moved closer to the small group of us, citing the fact that “Since nobody is here…” a point on which I challenged them. What were we, chopped liver?

No, we were the fortunate ones; those of us who were there had the pleasure of some excellent Americana played by two extremely talented musicians.

And although it’s common knowledge that I prefer my adopted city of Richmond over my hometown of Washington, I fear that the Atomic Duo will get the kind of audience they deserve Monday night in DC, something they did not get here.

On the other hand, I can always appreciate a command performance and last night’s was as good as a private show with a handful of strangers nearby for ambiance.

Come back sometime, Fat Man and Little Boy, and give RVA another chance. They just didn’t know what they were missing.