Out of the Loop and That's How I Like It

I don't appreciate Edo's Squid like most people do.There, I said it.

But then, I'm not a big pasta person. After a while, I get tired of every dish being heavy on garlic and I love garlic. The decibel level is the absolute highest in Richmond and conversations must be endlessly repeated.

And the speed with which the staff clears tables and seats diners during peak periods when the line is down the stairs is excruciatingly slow. Like tonight, there can be a dozen people in line and five empty tables and no one is being seated for half an hour. Huh?

But as my dinner companion reminded me, they do fish really well and I do love fish done right. And he was taking me out for my birthday, so I asked him to choose the destination and he's exceedingly fond of the Squid.

So there we were, shouting our conversation and trying to decide what to eat from a  list on which skate wing had already been 86'd. I would have enjoyed some skate wing for my birthday.

A bottle of Venica Collio Pinot Grigio "Jerera" with its long finish bought us time to decide what to eat while the room bustled around us.

Apparently we'd arrived at precisely the right moment because the trio who arrived just after us were not seated for a full hour after we were. They looked starved and we felt guilty about that but it had nothing to do with us.

It was hard not to enjoy the early evening light coming through the windows and bringing the spring evening inside, but the screaming child I could have done without.

I was sharing with my friend a couple of good stories (the stranger asking me to dance on the sidewalk and the stranger sliding the postcard into my lap at the concert), but he's such a cynic that all he could conclude was, "Men always have a strategy to get laid."

Nothing like being a buzz kill for my tales of serendipitous romantic encounters.

We ordered arugula salads with shaved Parmesan and I got one of the night's specials, the softshelled crabs.

Opting out of the usual pasta side, we left it up to the kitchen, who delivered a bowl of flash-cooked snow peas with a hint of soy sauce and oil to them. Major Asian yum.

My friend commented on how strange it was to be in a restaurant so crazily busy and not know a single soul, so of course it was only a matter of minutes before someone I know showed up at the table to say hello and talk of the danger of late night get-togethers (my impending birthday celebration).

For a change, I was chided for not eating more than I did, so different than the usual accolades about my hearty and unladylike appetite. I pleaded last night's rare rib-eye as a factor still in my diminished capacity. I guess I'm just not a rib-eye kind of a girl.

But my Maryland childhood makes me most certainly a crab kind of a girl and these were seasoned and fried up perfectly, so I was very content.

Unlike the unfortunate people still waiting for a table in a room with as many empty as full tables when we left. I just don't get it.

But yes, my friend, the fish was really good. There, I said it.