Duke's and Duck

Not that Jackson Ward isn't always ultra-cool, but tonight there was a Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright in the 'hood.

Oh, you know, it's just how we do around here.

David Lindsay-Abaire, author of "Good People," now playing at Cadence Theater Company, was talking with theater critic David Timberline at the November Theater.

An evening of the Davids and for free, I might add.

I arrived early to get an aisle seat, only to hear a local actress squeal my name. "I knew it was you by the tights!" she said, giving me a hug.

When the critic asked the playwright how he liked Richmond (it was his first visit), he was quick to respond. "It's cold!"

Amen, buddy, I'm freezing in these cute tights over here.

The conversation between the two Davids began with DLA talking about his south Boston working class roots, the same as the characters in "Good People."

When asked how much of the play was autobiographical, he answered, "None of it and all of it!" and admitted it took him years to get up the nerve to write about his hometown.

Explaining that he'd gotten a scholarship to a toney suburban private school when he was in 7th grade, he said he'd found the kids there living in a completely different world, one where they went to the Bahamas or skiing over winter break and he watched TV for two weeks.

That sense of being an alien in a foreign world has been the underpinning of his work ever since. "All my plays are about me, about people finding themselves in an upside down world."

When asked what winning the Pulitzer Prize had done for him, he downplayed it, saying, "It's more about people's perceptions of me. And I get invited to nicer parties. But it adds a little pressure, too."

Because he's also done screenplays ("Shrek"), he was asked which he prefers doing. "Nothing is more satisfying than writing a straight play because it's all about me, alone. With film, it's never about me. And writing a musical is like trying to change a tire while it's rolling downhill."

He should know since he wrote "Shrek, the Musical," which Virginia Rep is producing this season.

He got the biggest applause when he said that when he starts writing a play, he thinks about whether his protagonist needs to be male or not and if not, always make her female. "I always write for a woman."

Thank god for men like that.

At the end of the talk, critic David gave author David a Ukrop's bag with Duke's mayonnaise, a Duke's apron and, what else, a Duke's cookbook because nothing says Richmond like our favorite fatty, local condiment.

I kid.

Many in the audience were going next door to see "Good People" after the talk, but since I'd already seen it, I changed neighborhoods to Carytown to meet up with Pru at Amour.

There were no Pulitzer prize winners to be found, just a lot of French-speaking people because apparently it was the night where they all gather to do that.

My first order of business was a glass of Laurent Dauphin Champagne because it's election day and despite being the 281st voter in my precinct this morning, I was still worried that I'd wake up tomorrow morning with my hard-eraned reproductive rights in shambles.

So technically, I was drinking for my girl parts.

Pru arrived and joined me at a bar table for bubbles, all seats at the bar taken by would-be frogs.

She was coming directly from a date, but began with a story about having recently been to Max's on Broad with another date.

I got to hear the gory details of non-existent lighting, multiple incorrect bottles of wine brought and tepid French onion soup as pale as a bev nap instead of nicely browned.

Her story made me hungry so I ordered a bowl of French onion soup with luscious Comte, a complete contrast to the soup she'd choked down.

Listening to all the French being spoken around us led to Pru saying how challenging it would be to hear a Frenchman teaching math, "You know, up there talking about integers and whatnot."

It's a good night when "integers" are part of the punch line.

Next we had flatiron steak gougeres with caramelized onions in Roquefort puff pastry, a dish I've savored before but which Pru had yet to experience.

As I told her, that demonstrates that she's not been out for enough happy hours recently since they've been on Amour's new happy hour menu for a few weeks now.

We followed that with duck macaroni and cheese, an elegant take on classic comfort food whose richness soon had her moaning, "I feel indulged."

Not to point out the obvious, but what woman doesn't want to feel indulged in any way possible?

Once our server saw us pause, he came over to see where we stood. "I've had an elegant sufficiency," Pru proclaimed and the dish was whisked away.

When I told her about running into an ex-date on my date last night, she trumped me by saying she'd once gone into a bar only to find there were five men at the bar whom she'd dated.

Five!

I'd call that an inelegant sufficiency of men...and a bar I'd steer clear of from then on.

Especially now that our girl parts are safe for another four years.