Calling All Friends

When it rains, it pours.

Weeks ago, a girlfriend had asked me to join her for the Ideas in Food dinner at Heritage.

Five courses and the chance to sit around, eat and drink for hours like we used to before her life turned upside down? Count me in.

Then I got home today to a phone message from a friend in Boston, saying he'd be in Richmond tonight and wanting to hang out.

A talented guy who befriended me three years while in town on business and has been known to e-mail from all over the world saying he's just read my blog or experienced something funny he wants to share with me? Yes, please.

Oh, if only I'd gotten a good night's sleep last night, but, alas, my body's infrequent caffeine intake and a mega-Coke a few hours before bedtime had left me unable to get to sleep until dawn.

It's nights like this you push through on pure adrenaline.

Heritage was just starting to fill up when we arrived to claim our corner booth and begin catching up on the good stuff.

With glasses of a Barbera blend and our Gemini motor mouths set on non-stop, we dove right into the juiciest stories we had as an array of food runners brought us course after course.

The Lexington-bred beef heart tartare was suggested to be finger food, so we wrapped it in rice crepes and talked about people with negative energy.

Ramen with pepperoni, octopus and wakame noodles tasted like pizza, making our Barbera the perfect pairing as I heard about her outing to Charlottesville.

A provolone tuille with caraway seeds covered brussels sprouts, thousand island dressing and a broth that brought the pastrami flavor home while I shared my recent winery visits and an unexpected Michael Shaps intersection.

Ginger and tamarind-crusted lamb shoulder sat atop yellow mustard gnocchi and lamb heart ragu, a deeply rich and earthy sauce that had my friend requesting that I not tell her what things were.

The final sweet course was chocolate layer cake with coconut cream cheese, dulce de leche and walnut brittle ice cream (my least favorite part of the dish), and one last opportunity to give advice to each other.

We had so much to talk about that even after our second glass of wine we weren't ready to leave but with people standing waiting for a table, it seemed rude to linger.

But even leaving was protracted as I chatted up Chef Lee about the crowd, talked J-Ward with my neighborhood record store owner, said hello to a guy I see at shows everywhere and heard about an irate restaurant owner who accused me of being an artist.

If he thought that was an insult, he was sadly mistaken.

Leaving with my autographed copy of "Maximum Flavor: Recipes That Will Change the Way You Cook" (unlikely since I cook as rarely as possible), Friend and I made plans for our next get-together away from the madding crowds and said good-night.

Quick, on to Lemaire to meet my Bostonian with the broad accent (one he thinks he doesn't have but does).

You'd think after not having seen someone for three years that there'd be some readjustment, but we just sort of picked up where we'd left off.

He's in town on business, but his business is an interesting one because he fabricates signs and exhibition pieces for museums, which quite naturally led to art talk.

It doesn't hurt that he's also a painter, so we were soon discussing the Turner exhibition we'd both seen at the National Gallery a few years ago.

While I only have memories of that exhibit, he took it to the next level, naming some of his hand-brewed beers after some of Turner's paintings, so "Death on a Pale Horse" becomes "Death on a Pale Ale."

He's clever that way. When he's not brewing beer, he's making his own potato vodka and showed me photographs of his home still.

I've always had a soft spot for guys who can make things and fix things.

Over a glass of 2011 Klee Pinot Noir, we caught up on each other's lives, meaning I heard about the younger women he's seeing and he heard about my recent dating escapades.

When we left there, it was to grab a burger for him at Pie before crossing the street to Balliceaux.

There were three girls at Pie's bar and while they were busy doing shots of tequila and drinking Blue Hawaiis, apparently they were eavesdropping, too.

Finally, the one on the end admitted as much and wanted to ask us a question.

"Are you two on your first date?" No, we explained, we were friends getting reacquainted after three years. Why had she thought that?

"You totally seem like friends who are finally starting to date each other," she said assuredly. Nope, try again.

Perhaps our dynamic was unique enough as to be inscrutable. In any case, we had places to be.

Given the years since we'd last seen each other, he didn't want to sit in the back room for fear the RVA Big Band would drown out our conversation, so we became the only occupants of the front bar, where Bobby K. was barkeeping.

It worked out well because we could talk about mezcal, Free Run Wine Merchants and chefs who can't pair wine because they don't drink it.

With the music coming from the back at a perfect volume to continue our chat, he told me about his trip to Copenhagen, the van Gogh exhibit he'd seen and the crooked tower that caused its builder to kill himself when he couldn't right it.

With, I might add, photographs to illustrate it all. So satisfying.

We watched as several members of the big band came up to the bar to get mind erasers during intermission. I didn't know this layered shot, but my friend did, leading to a comparison with Bobby about layered versus mixed.

Frankly, I wouldn't think you'd want your mind erased when playing music with sixteen other musicians, but what do I know?

While sipping my Espolon, local bass legend Matt Gold walked by and stopped to rehash the magnificent Richmond Symphony/Kate Lindsey show the other night.

After introducing the two, he moved on to the back and my friend showed me pictures of the hand-crafted bass he recently made, pictures he should probably have pulled out when Matt was there since he'd have a far greater appreciation for such a thing than I possibly could.

Someone who can make a bass, now that's an artist.

We finally decided to call it quits because he has an early-morning meeting, but it was a little bittersweet because for all we know, it'll be another three years before we meet up again.

Driving him back to his hotel, he said, "Don't take this wrong, but I admire your brain."

What else can a person do but grin like an idiot with a compliment like that, even from a non-date?

Dead tired or not, sometimes it's great to get poured on.