Color the Evening Cassis

He shouted at me without even meeting me.

Going to meet my friend at Bistro Bobette, I spotted a girlfriend on the street, chatting with a man. I rolled down my window, called hello and she waved back.

Grinning widely at me, he called out. "I'm in love!" despite having no idea who I was.

Not a bad start to the evening.

Inside Bistro Bobette, it was mobbed. The bartender found me a stool and I awaited the arrival of my friend.

His backside barely hit the stool next to mine before he ordered foie gras, claiming we can't start a dinner without it.

The woman next to me told me in her charmingly accented English that I owed her for saving me a seat.

For my main course, I took advantage of a special, flightless bird.

It was grilled ostrich  over fava bean risotto in a tarragon and black peppercorn sauce. Medium rare, of course.

Friend entertained me with tales of the 80s and people he knew who overindulged in cocaine use. Lawyers, doctors, dentists, I heard some gruesome tales.

Without a good chocolate option for dessert, we defaulted to my friend's ultimate weakness, ice cream.

A black currant sorbet had such depth of flavor as to require tiny bites to fully appreciate its bracing fruit flavor.

When I got up to use the bathroom, I was reprimanded.

Not one, but two, men complained when they spied my bare legs.

"This is the first time I've ever seen you without stockings on," a wine buddy said, clearly astonished. "I'll let it slide this time."

It's April, for god's sake

The chef voted differently so I let his opinion weigh more.

Then it was on to Balliceaux for Brooklyn's Xenia Rubinos, described as CubanRican with a hint of M.I.A., a lot of Tuneyards and a bit of P.J. Harvey.

Using keyboards and a busy drummer to accompany her, she created beats and harmonies that built layer upon layer of sound.

The crowd wasn't giving her the attention she deserved, resulting in her taking to the floor in front of the stage to figuratively say, "Hey! Listen to me!"

A few dancing types helped things along by moving to the eclectic groove, furthering the rest of the audience's attention.

By the time the duo got to the last song, the room was fully engaged because they were killing it.

After clamoring for an encore, Xenia said, "The truth is, I don;t really have another one. But here's one I'm working on, but it's a baby, so be kind."

And while it didn't sound fully formed, it did promise to be another attention getter down the road.

Making my way out of the back room, a stranger grabbed my hand and began to dance with me.

Up front, the DJ was doing it Euro-trash-style ("Glamorous Life" and "Rebel, Rebel") and I ran into a Friday night assortment of friends representing fashion, theater, music, restaurants and photography.

It's always a good evening when you have time to talk to your favorite vibes player.

Not one, but two, theater types stopped me, one for a critique of a play I'd seen him in and the other to high five me for my next stop.

After a couple days of dizziness, I was just glad to remain upright in a room crammed with people dancing and socializing practically on top of each other.

But I did make it out the door without hearing that anyone was in love with me.

Not a bad end to the evening.