Granita Absent, Friends Present

Friendship's the wine of life ~ Edward Young

It was the best ten-hour birthday celebration ever. A girlfriend picked me up for a drive to Charlottesville, giving us an hour or so to spill our guts and anticipate our adventure as we wound our way through twisting mountain roads.

We started at Blenheim Winery, not because it's owned by Dave Matthews, but because it came highly recommended to us.

Honestly, I was amazed to learn that DMB fans make pilgrimages to the winery, even those not partial to wine. As our host agreed, that's downright silly.

Our host was charming, providing humor, information and a personal take on what we tasted ("This is how I'd do it if we were at my house"). The blue tick hound was almost as personable, but not as well spoken.

He shared the winemaker's preference ("Fruit always drives the bus") and, my personal favorite, a taster's take on the wine ("So enticing one could date this wine"). We enjoyed immensely, leaving with three bottles.

From a panoramic view of the mountains and vineyards to the downtown mall, we meandered our way to the C & O for dinner. Talk about an institution.

The staff was still shell-shocked from graduation weekend and fourteen-hour shifts, but welcomed us warmly to the bar that time left behind.

I drank Chateau Ducasse Sauvignon Blanc while my friend snapped bar pictures and  made sure everyone knew it was my birthday ("Thank you, sir. Who are you?").

After a salad of Boston lettuce and Pommery mustard vinaigrette, I ordered the marinated jumbo lump crab with shallots, poblano peppers, pickled green tomatoes and mint granita.

Delivering my plate, our server said, "Somehow we lost the mint granita since yesterday. We won't charge you for this dish."

Did I feel the absence of the mint granita? I did not, but perhaps I was distracted by the sheer size of the lump crabmeat and the tartness of the  pickled green tomatoes.

We'd so enjoyed our winery/dinner combo that we asked a nearby local for a recommendation for the next winery to check out and he provided; we'd already decided on the next restaurant. I can see this becoming a regular thing for us.

Driving back, my friend checked with me several times. "Are you ready to party?" Am I ready to drink good wine with friends and talk? Why, yes, I think I am.

Arriving at Secco, I was surprised to find eight friends already arrived (we were a tad later than planned). Before long, another eight or so arrived and then still more. All told, there were about thirty people in and out and adding to the merriment.

I'd invited some people, my friend had invited some people and we ended up with a nice crowd of restaurant types, musician types and people from my past. I ordered a glass of the peppery Peyrassol Rose and owner Julia said, "That's your bottle." Oh, my.

The most flattering part of it all was those who never stay out late who came and stayed out late.

The friend who said he'd come for one and then had to leave  who stayed for three.

The one who doesn't even come to shows that start late and hung till almost midnight.

She who doesn't go out on weeknights who came and stayed.

The friend who bypassed Mongrel and wrote a happy birthday message to me on the bottom of his flipflops.

The favorite chef who came after working lunch and dinner.

It might have been the most flattering birthday ever because of the stellar company coming and hanging. For a change, I actually had too many people to talk to.

At one point, the sous chef emerged from the kitchen with a lit cake covered in chocolate mousse and there was singing before devouring of a chocoholic's dream dessert.

I made a wish for the second time today (same wish) and blew out the candle.

As the bartender noted, "Friends, wine and chocolate, what more could you want?"

The answer popped out of my mouth before I could self-edit. "I get off at midnight. Let me check with the wife and make sure it's okay," he responded with a salacious grin.

What I meant was, lucky me, I don't need to wish for more good friends.