Friday Cook's Tour

So this is what happens when a chef calls you up and says "Guess what? I have tonight off."

You meet at Secco because they're having a fire sale on Riesling. And by that I mean every Riesling, Reserve and secret stash included, is five bucks.

Say what you want about today being the first day of Fall, but I wore shorts on my walk, all the ceiling fans in my apartment are on and it was 74 degrees when I left to go entertain the chef.

It's Riesling weather any way you look at it.

After tasting several, it was clear that the Schafer-Frohlic Nahe Riesling was the medium dry of my dreams.

I heard through the grapevine that it was owner Julia's favorite Riesling, but all that did was validate my choice.

When the chef joined me, she jumped right on the Riesling bandwagon with me.

Secco was hopping with all kinds of people I knew: the birthday boy from Amuse, the happy bubble-sipping couple at Table Q and the book store owner waiting for her handsome date.

Naturally we had to eat since the Chef couldn't resist using our date as a fact-finding mission.

We had the squash blossom with house-made ricotta with ricotta whey basil sauce, the green of the sauce so pretty the Chef made cooing sounds.

We also had the smoked bluefish dip with pickled mustard seed, which scored points for its Mason jar presentation and the silkiness of the dip.

All the while, I reveled in Echo and the Bunnymen ("The Killing Moon" especially), the Cure and Big Country.

If I'd heard the Waterboys, my head might have exploded.

It was great fun watching my friend take so much pleasure in being out on a Friday night instead of being in a hot kitchen.

By the time we made to leave, Secco was crazy, with people waiting to sit and our stools a valuable commodity.

Then for your next stop, you drive the chef to Bistro 27 for a variety of reasons.

I love the vibe, the food is reliably great and I knew my friend would run into Spanish-speaking people.

When we arrived, the place was at capacity.

We established a beach head at the very end of the bar, probably crowding the service bar area, but in full view of the kitchen (much to her delight).

You can take the chef out of the kitchen but you can't take the kitchen out of the chef. Not on a Friday night anyway.

And speaking of kitchens, when I kissed Chef Carlos hello, it was a very sweaty face I kissed.

Our wine came quickly as did the quips from the staff ("What mischief have you two been up to?") but we were all about food.

Because she likes surprises, I was in charge of ordering.

In rapid succession, we had lamb lollipops, escargots and mushroom in Pernod, butter, garlic and parsley, cheese empanadas with pesto aioli and calamari stuffed with baby shrimp and scallops in a basil tomato sauce.

She got to talk to three Spanish speakers, two fluent in Portuguese and me, not that I could compete.

We tasted some of the specialty cocktails with the hot, hot heat of the Angry Mango being the standout.

It comes with a warning that if you can't take the heat, have a ginger beer chaser.

We preferred to think that we were stronger than that.

After sliding out the side door, you take the chef to Rowland's for a nightcap.

Things were winding down there but we lucked into a couple of interesting people, one a Florida native with strong opinions about restaurants and politics; the other a visitor from Stratford-on-Avon.

That led to spirited discussions of race, politics, economy and mindfulness.

When all was said and done much later, the chef thanked me profusely for showing her a real Friday night.

"Everyone knows you and we ran into so many people" she gushed. "It was so much fun. We need to do this again soon!"

What, do what I do all the time?

Too bad chefs work so much; otherwise we'd make a great going-out pair.

I mean, yes, let's do it again the next time you have a Friday night off.

Or any night you get off, or even when Hell freezes over, which might come first.