An Auvergne Kind of Evening

So now I know I can sub out for a 92-year old woman.

Holmes and Beloved had an extra ticket for the symphony because his Mom had plans and couldn't use it.

Enter moi, who, when asked if she wanted to be taken to the symphony, responded with a resounding yes.

The invitation came with pick-up service and I even got to choose the pre-theater dinner location: Aziza's.

Most of the tables were taken or reserved, but we preferred sitting at the bar anyway, reservations be damned.

Holmes chose a South African sauvignon blanc and we started with a cheese plate of buttery and grassy-tasting Point Reyes Toma and Fourme d'Ambert, a creamy bleu from Auvergne.

Here's where I get nerdy. Auvergne was a recurring theme tonight, although I didn't know it at this point.

The cheeses came with the loveliest toasted fruit and nut bread, a welcome change to the ubiquitous baguette slices.

Because my couple date had never had gnudi, we got the ricotta and spinach version in a decadent sage butter so they could experience pasta-less ravioli.

Overhead, the music was fine with songs by Al Green and Gladys Knight and the Pips audible when the dining room wasn't too lively.

To compensate for the absent pasta, we also had some of the real thing, garganelli with broccoli rabe and hot Italian sausage in a garlic white wine sauce, a dish that led to a discussion of the wonders of really good Italian sausage.

A guy who'd been eating by himself came over while we were eating it and said he'd heard us say we were going to the symphony.

He wanted to tell us he'd been recently and been overwhelmed by Verdi's breathtaking crescendos, describing his rapture to strangers. Then he remembered himself and wished us a good evening.

For our last savory course we got octopus (from Spain, according to the menu) with sauteed red Russian kale, chickpeas, mixed peppers and walnuts, an appetizer so generously-sized it could have been an entree for one.

And the R & B played on.

We were quickly running out of time to have dessert and get to CenterStage, but what's the point in going to Aziza's and not getting cream puffs?

Our fate was sealed with two puffs split three ways as we pondered cream puffs versus eclairs and ate every crumb of both.

Holmes even took a swipe of some leftover cream on Beloved's plate before it was whisked away.

Don't judge until you, too, have been faced with these fat beauties even after you've had enough food to last you the weekend and still can't resist.

And then it was back up the hill to hear a local celebrity sing her heart out.

Former Chesterfield County resident Kate Lindsey, now a rising mezzo-soprano who sings with the Metropolitan Opera and Los Angeles opera, was in the house.

Booya and all that.

The only sour note was that our seats were directly in front of three overly-perfumed women with Paula Deen-like southern accents (Deltaville managed to be four syllables: del-ta-vee-ul) and an incessant need to talk.

After hearing the prelude to "Carmen," Kate came out in a stunning copper-colored evening gown and began the process of reminding Richmonders how proud they were that she'd come from their midst.

"Well, Kate, welcome home!" conductor Steven Smith greeted her.

"Hey, y'all," she called out to the adoring crowd. When he asked her for memories, she recalled family trips into the city for shows and eating.

"We used to come downtown and eat at the Robin Inn. Is it still there?" she asked to much delight.

She went on to do a major shout-out to symphony librarian (also bass player for Goldrush and the symphony) Matt Gold, citing his hard work in tracking down all the music for tonight's program.

"You have to search and search for all this stuff," she said. "And there's 15 different versions of each one. Thank you, Matt, for making it happen."

Looking over at Matt behind his bass, his handsome face was grinning even wider than usual.

She also graciously thanked all her music and drama teachers dating back to elementary school and, of course, her parents, sitting somewhere down front.

Her first piece was selections from Canteloube's "Chants d'Auvergne," an unexpected thread from our cheese plate earlier.

Make fun of me all you want, but how often do you suppose I'm served a cheese and folk music selections from the same part of central France in one evening?

And, yes, I'm aware of what it says about me that I even noticed such a thing.

Kate was a bit stiff for the first couple of songs, arms hanging at her side like slabs of meat on a hook, but by the third song, she began slipping into character and her demonstrative hand gestures added a great deal to her interpretation of the songs.

She left for the Debussy that ended the first half and after intermission, Kate came out to stay, naturally in another knockout of a dress.

Doing arias from a variety of composers, she played Cinderella, Ophelia and a duchess who far preferred the array of men in the military to the one man who'd been chosen for her to marry. She played that role to the hilt, vamping and flirting with the imaginary men.

But she got her biggest reaction when she came out with a bottle of champagne and a glass for Offenbach's "Ah, quel diner" from "La Perichole," playing it for all kinds of laughs.

Ah, what a dinner I just ate!
And what an extraordinary wine!
I drank so much, so very much
I believe that now
I'm a little tipsy. But hush!
Should not we say, shh!

Of course, she was singing it in French, complete with hiccups, stagger and more pouring and drinking and the audience ate it up.

When the song ended, she meandered off stage with the champagne glass waving high over her head.

The performance closed with a Spanish-influenced Ravel piece that did not involved the lovely Kate.

It seemed an unlikely way to end a show with our favorite local opera singer.

So out she came and held up a finger to indicate she had a surprise.

Launching into "Shenandoah," the loudest mouth behind us announced, "Oh, god, now I'm going to cry!" but fortunately that was the last we heard of her.

Kate's rendition of the American folk song was sublime, the added meaning of a song about leaving Virginia making it all the more poignant.

I don't know Kate Lindsey from Adam, but hearing her sing that song so beautifully, so achingly, was truly a high point in music-going for me.

A transcendent moment courtesy of our very own Richmond symphony and a local girl.

Thanks, Mrs. Holmes' Mom. I owe you big time.

What a dinner! What an evening! And I'm not even tipsy.