Thursday Augmentation

Tonight was really all about tomorrow, except that tomorrow couldn't officially begin until midnight.

It's not that I ever really wondered how  a butcher prepares a side of meat to turn it into the "ice cream cuts" everyone clamors for.

It's just that it sounded kind of fascinating and I had a friend I knew would be on board if I suggested it. Besides, it never hurts to learn something new.

Even when it means driving to Goochland in the pouring rain for Nadolski's Butcher Shop's beef processing workshop.

The enticement of wine (the beautiful, plummy Honoro Vera Monastrelle), hors d'oeuvres (including meatballs made from the cow being cut up) and a chance to see big hunks of dry-aged cow become flank steak, NY strip and rib eye was sufficient to head to the sticks.

Resting on the table was a side of beef from Powhatan cut into three large sections, the front of which resembled something from The Flintstones.

Turned out it was the same hunk o' meat that topples Fred's car in the opening sequence. Now I know.

We watched butcher Jonathan trim fat effortlessly and take every piece of meat down to a recognizable cut.

Telling us about the sirloin tip as he cut it, he said it was a very popular Brazilian cut.

He has a Spanish woman who put in a standing order for every sirloin tip he gets; she prefers it with a thick layer of fat for grilling.

I like her without knowing her.

My friend and I had a great time sipping and eating while watching Jonathan do his magic with a curved knife and an electric saw that sounded fierce (being a guy, my friend was particularly impressed with its sound).

Driving home, my friend spoke of his new-found understanding of where cuts came from in relation to other cuts.

I may have learned a little less than he did, but had far more fun conversations with strangers.

Beef gave way to beast and I made my first trek to Bogart's to meet a friend and hear Beast Wellington, the local jazz collective so often recommended to me.

I didn't expect so many cover songs (Bill Withers, Micheal Jackson, CeLo Green), but judging by the crowd's reaction, it was just what they wanted.

After an hour or so's stopover, we headed over to Amour to eagerly await the 12:01 opening of the 2011 Beaujolais Nouveau.

Since it can't be opened until the third Thursday of November, we spent a bit of time enjoying conversation with regulars and wine geeks.

In a last minute twist, Amour was only pouring one Nouveau because the other two which had been ordered had resulted in last minute phone calls from wine reps explaining that they would not be available.

So Georges Duboeuf it was and the fun, fruity wine led to a discussion of its uses, at least for the next two weeks, which was about how long the owner allowed that it was worth drinking.

He calls it "a good pizza wine."

One guy referred to it as his "hiking" wine because it's his wine of choice along with meats and cheeses when he and friends take to mountain climbing.

I can't imagine that the meats and cheeses he stuffs into his backpack are as wonderful as the ones offered during last night's tasting, though.

Plates of speck, Olli salami, pate, three kinds of cheese, and duck rilletes kept showing up as the conversation got livelier.

"It's not about competition, it's about augmentation!" a husband laughingly told his wife, explaining why he would do something for her.

As it got later, a group of us got into a spirited discussion of Bermuda and its ties to this country, especially during the Civil War.

My friend grew up there, an anthropologist had done some work there and I'd visited a few years ago so we all had opinions on the little island that inspired "The Tempest."

The tasting turned out have more of a party feel than anything and even when glasses were off the bar, talk continued to flow.

When the lot of us finally got up to go home and looked at the time, we were amazed at how many hours had flown.

"Last year we were here until 4:30," one guy said, making us all feel like grannies heading home at just after 3 a.m.

But when the French say you have to wait until Thursday, they mean Thursday.

Besides, with only a two-week drinking window, you have to enjoy hiking wine while you can.

It's not like I've got a backpack to put mine in.