Downtown Soulville Cobbler

The cheese let us down, so we had to punt.

Pru had been dying to join me for not so classic movie night, so we made plans that tonight would finally be the night that she'd get to join me for some classic cheesy film.

So you can imagine her disappointment when I checked on the film only to discover that tonight's installment wasn't happening.

We were too late to catch an early movie and Pru gets up too early to attend a late one, so we found ourselves without plans.

That's where the punting came in. When all else fails, there's always the fallback: eat, drink and be merry.

Off we went for our second foray to Metzger, where unlike last time, we found a civilized room not so full we felt guilty for lingering.

When I chose the light and crisp Anton Bauer Rose, Pru followed suit, trusting me on this one.

As we sipped our pink and looked over the menu, we both noticed the stellar music playing, vintage soul worthy of doing the pony or the frug to, but not a single recognizable song in the bunch. Outstanding.

It's rare I'm so taken with the music in a restaurant when I don't recognize it, but this was classic '60s obscurities that made us both want to dance Hullabaloo-style on our bar stools.

We were told it was dollar oyster night, something I would ordinarily jump on, but that dozen I'd had after breakfast had done me for the day.

A girl doesn't need an oyster overdose.

After hearing the specials, we chose squash blossoms stuffed with housemade herbed quark with tomato puree and a divine side salad of baby sliced zucchini in dill creme fraiche.

The dish was absolutely killer and that zucchini salad was so incredibly delicious it could have stood on its own.

Meanwhile, I heard about and saw pictures from Pru's annual river retreat, a long, debauched weekend of food, drink and laughter.

If only she'd remembered to bring underwear.

Next came a summer bean salad of green beans, kidney beans, rye berries, cured duck breast and quark, a unique combination not seen just anywhere.

And if it sounds like we were being overrun with quark, remember this began as a night devoted to cheese, so we had no problem with it.

The sausage board brought all kinds of Sausagecraft deliciousness to enjoy with grainy mustard: earthy Amerikrainer with sharp cheddar cheese and pickled cherry peppers, grilled franks and rough-hewn Nuremberg.

By the time the board was down to the last piece of frank, I deferred to Pru who refused on the grounds that she'd reached an elegant sufficiency.

Never one to give up on eating when dessert can still be had, I inquired about the sweet possibilities.

But it was when the bartender came over to suggest that we have more Rose and wait for the blueberry cobbler to come out of the oven (a mere ten minutes more, we were promised) that I pulled rank and said yes to the wait.

Unbeknownst to Pru - who assumed my devotion to chocolate precluded all other desserts - I am devoted to cooked blueberries, whether in pie, cobbler or crisp form

When the steaming hot dish of lusciously-colored cobbler arrived, we were warned to wait lest we burn our tongues.

It wasn't easy and the minute scoop of ice cream barely held its own against the heat before we dug in.

Well worth the wait, my only quibble would be that it was more crisp than cobbler, although, truth be told, I prefer crisp to cobbler, so it was a score for me.

Ditto the music, which was delighting me with every new-to-me song that played. Thanks, Mr. Fine Wine.

Some cheesy movie nights just weren't meant to be and sometimes that's a good thing.