Debutante Dinner

Mac's leaving Garnett's and I went to send him off.

After nearly two years producing the awesomeness that is Garnett's, Mac's low-key humor and kitchen wizardry will be no more there.

I love Mac so I joined  a friend for drinks to celebrate the guy who always greeted me with a sly grin and  "S'up, Ka-ren?" when I was working coffee shop.

Mac is one of those guys who can smoke a Vidalia onion or play video games with equal aplomb and for this he is my hero.

After a glass of Prieure Saint-Hippolyte Languedoc Rose and a toast to Mac, Friend and I took ourselves up to the Roosevelt to see what kind of madness was going on there.

My favorite bumper sticker along the way: "I Can't. I have Rehearsal."

If I could make it apply to me in any way, I'd have one on my car tomorrow.

We arrived at the perfect moment to grab two stools, center front.

The bar staff was all about the new beer they'd just tapped, Stillwater Artisanal Ales and Baltimore's Brewer's Art collaboration beer, the Debutante.

And while I'm not a beer drinker or a debutante, I was fascinated by the story of gypsy brew master Brian Strumke, who goes from brewery to brewery making creative artisanal beers.

Did it make a beer convert out  of me? No. Was it interesting? Very much so.

Boxwood Rose was more my speed as was one of tonight's specials, which seemed appropriate for the sudden change in weather.

House-made pasta was covered in Cheerwine-braised short rib ragout with vegetables and while my friend finds short ribs boring, I like them.

Especially when served with Brussels Sprouts and carrots.

He got the creamed local mushrooms with a sunny side up egg and grilled bread, which had  a nice array of mushroom types and a savory sauce for dipping.

As we sat there eating, we watched the bow-tied widower next to us charm the two heavily tattooed girls next to him.

We heard the noisy guy at the table near us talk so loudly that the entire restaurant could hear him.

Friend told me about the interesting-sounding man of the cloth who cooks whom he'd recently met and how I must make his acquaintance.

I defended my long-time absence of a love life.

For our main course, we shared the  fried chicken thighs with sausage gravy and cheese grits, a dish made for two people.

The crispy coating and moist interior were finger-licking good, as cliched as that sounds.

They also eliminated any possibility of dessert, sad as that is.

As soon as my friend left to cross the river and go home, I was adopted by a beer-loving couple who had been hovering nearby.

Like every other beer drinker, they insisted that there is a beer out there for me if I just keep trying.

And, let's face it, life is all about trying.

Like today on my walk down Grace Street, I heard a girl tell a friend, "I consider myself a work in progress."

"What does that even mean?" the friend asked with no real interest.

"I think it means you're supposed to keep working on yourself your whole life," the wise one explained.

I'm working on a lot of things, and now they're telling me that I need to add beer to the list?

I'll do what I can, friends, but I'm afraid some things are going to have to take priority.

Not likely beer will be one of them, if you know what I'm saying.