Spending a Day's Worth of Talk

It must have been the Rapture or maybe the Rapture not happening, but what an odd day.

In the seven hours between when I got up and when I went to meet a friend for drinks, I did very little. Okay, next to nothing. No culture, no conversation, no interesting adventures.

By the time we sat down at Avalon to catch up, I must have been like a faucet you can't turn off.

The music was especially good tonight; a Pandora station with Death Cab for Cutie as the starting point provided non-stop indie pop as the background for my chatter, much to my satisfaction.

Luckily he's a long-time friend and enjoys my stream-of-consciousness ramblings, so rather then trying to escape. he suggested we walk over to Acacia for an impromptu birthday dinner once my Seven of Hearts viognier was gone.

A quick phone call yielded the information that they didn't have a reservation open until 9:45 (graduation weekend), but we felt fairly confident there'd be room for us at the bar. As always, the techno music was pumping.

They did. Apparently graduates' families aren't bar eaters, so we had our pick of stools. Settling in with a bottle of Horton Viognier, I convinced my friend that it was time for him to experience sugar toads.

Fried up crispy and served with a salsa verde aioli, the little fish were as big a hit with him as they are with me. They were the chef's choice to serve at Broad Appetit a couple of years ago and that's when I became  a fan.

And speaking of the chef, he was not in house tonight, having escaped to Atlanta for the food show, which wasn't surprising considering I knew of several others who were away in Chicago at the restaurant show.

But a good kitchen carries on in the chef's absence and Acacia's did that tonight.

Next up we had rabbit pate on brioche, a decadent delight with the earthy pate smeared on the soft, buttery bread. Peruvian style tuna ceviche with avocados, onions and cucumbers finished off our assortment of  first courses.

"I love how much you love to eat," my friend noted. Nothing like being praised for my consumption.

For dinner, we split a ridiculously big pan-roasted rib-eye with a spicy potato pancake, warm market vegetable salad (fresh peas, green beans and white beans), all in a roasted garlic sauce.

Such luscious red meat was savored with a perfectly lovely Efeste Final-Final Cabernet/Syrah blend from Washington. The rest of the viognier would have to wait until the red meat was devoured.

After that course, we took a break from eating, discussing the Atlantic Monthly versus the New Republic, walking tours of Ireland and how visual men are.  That last topic could have lasted the entire evening, but eventually dessert called (okay, we called for it).

Our server recommended the chocolate French macaroon ice cream sandwich with little dots of marshmallow fluff. It was fairly light as desserts go, but satisfied our mutual sweet tooths and allowed us to finish up our Virginia wine.

By the time we walked back over to  Avalon to retrieve our cars, I was extremely full and feeling much better for having gotten all my unspent conversation for the day out of me and into a willing ear.

Every now and then, it's enough to do nothing more than share a meal and talk a friend's ear off and call it a day.

Hell, we're not even supposed to still be here. And if the rapture's just late arriving, it was a fine way to wrap things up, eating and talking to a friend.

I could have done a whole lot worse.