And Who Doesn't Like Cake?

I didn't go to Avalon for romance; I went to meet a good friend for a glass of wine and some nerdy conversation (I got both).

The romance part came when a casual friend, one whom I've known for ten years but haven't seen in the past turbulent year showed up.

It was great to see her and while my wine friend stepped outside for a smoke break, she and I played catch-up.

As it turns out, she was meeting friends to celebrate; her divorce was final today.

The fact that she was celebrating represented progress because she wasn't the catalyst for the divorce.

It was one of those unfortunate instances when a wife arrives home unexpectedly only to discover her husband in flagrante delicto; the kicker was that he was with merely one of a string of chippies.

So snap!

Just like that, more than a decade of marriage out the window.

And just to be clear here, my friend is a very talented artist and photographer, not to mention smart, funny and gorgeous.

I say this as a friend, but I only wish I had a fraction of the allure she does.

Here's where the romantic part comes in.

After months of fearing dating and disrobing, reality and relationships, she heard from an old friend via, what else, Facebook.

We're talking about someone she knew twenty years ago who still lives in Great Britain, just as he did when she first met him.

They started communicating and found enough of interest to schedule a first date, despite the pond that separates their continents.

They met in Paris two decades after they last saw each other.

Things went so well that they've now planned a second date.

He'll be arriving in Virginia in a few weeks and they're taking a two-week road trip.

It will begin with a drive down Skyline Drive to Ashville, meander through Nashville and Memphis and makes stops in Savannah and Charleston.

You read right, date #2 will last a fortnight.

Granted, the mere idea of a Parisian first date and a two-week second date are enough to satisfy the romantic in anyone, but for me, that's not even the most romantic part.

I'm blown away by the optimism of them both, their open willingness to just throw themselves into this possibility and see what develops.

In an attempt to make me understand why she's following her passion, she pointed out that, "If you're attracted to someone at one point in your life, chances are you'll be attracted to them at a later date, too. People don't change that much."

That story made my night, possibly my month.

Imagine having your life totally torn apart only to have something wonderful rise out of the debris.

And as has been said by many a wise man, being able to travel well together is not only the ultimate test of a relationship, but absolutely necessary for its success.

This second date of theirs already sounds like the most romantic date ever, if only because they're both willing to do it.

The romance that happens along the way will just be icing on the cake.

Could someone cut me a really big slice, please?

Anything Goes at Avalon

Tonight was the last night of my Modern Romance class, so I finally discovered what happens after the First Kiss, True Love, and Broken Hearts.

And the final stage of a modern romance is...drum roll...anything goes!

As I can attest, you can go through those first three stages and any number of outcomes are possible, good, painful and bad.

My plan going forward is to revel in the first two categories, skip the third and replace anything goes with a happy ending.

But, of course, we're talking about architecture here and tonight's class was about the years 1980-2000, the period representing the death of modernism's dogmatic point of view and the opening up of numerous viewpoints.

We'll call it post-modernism; it's the years when the focus was on how architects shifted from an emphasis on problem-solving to an attitude of opportunity finding.

Like in a relationship, it was all about how you look at these moments when they present themselves.

This week's after-school snack was at Avalon with a friend who wanted to discuss architecture, romance and fancy food, a category he thinks Avalon falls into because of the abundance of ingredients listed for each item on the menu.

Personally, I like any place that offers small plates and since he always defers to my choice of restaurants, he just has to sift through the menu for dishes that don't contain something on his "will not eat" list, like beets and Brussels Sprouts.

He did so as the bartender opened a bottle of the Fantail Pinotage for our quaffing pleasure.

Okay, so Avalon does use long-winded ingredient descriptions.

My salad read as: watercress with golden raisins, blackberries, crispy toasted pumpkin seeds and Hooks 1 year bleu cheese chunks with nutmeg vinaigrette.

I just asked for the blue cheese salad and let it go at that.

My friend ordered the deconstructed tuna sushi roll: ginger sticky rice wrapped in a wasabi pickle slice and ahi tuna with carrot coulis and a soy, rice wine gastrique.

Then he turned to me and asked, "Why they gotta deconstruct it and what does that even mean?"

I explained, knowing the man had a point about the overly descriptive names, but both dishes were excellent so what's a little extra reading?

Then we both moved on to the Chorizo course.

He followed seafood with seafood, namely the Littleneck clams with Spanish Chorizo and fennel in almond, pine nut and sherry broth with focaccia.

The broth was incredibly rich and creamy, and ideal for soaking the bread in; I know because he insisted I try it.

My plate of richness came in the form of Spanish Chorizo over saffron Israeli cous cous with Parmesan cheese.

Luckily I'd had the sense to order the small plate of this and not the entree because it was decadent.

Dessert was sharing the chocolate rum pate with berries while discussing other restaurants.

He and a date had been to a play I'd recommended with a pre-performance dinner at, of all places, Bill's BBQ behind CVS.

I made a limeade crack and he was quick to tell me about the new bar at Bill's, where you can now enjoy your limeade with the refreshing addition of gin, vodka or rum.

He questioned the owner about the origin of this brilliant stroke, only to be told, "People been doing it in their cars for years, so why not us?"

Don't you just love the corruption of a Richmond tradition?

Limeades all around!!

From Frittes to Ringing Ears

My ears are ringing because of the New Rock Church of Fire. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

They were just fine when I met a friend for drinks and frittes at Can Can late this afternoon. At our last few meet-ups, he had been abstaining but apparently a couple of prolonged periods of being snowed-in with his two young'uns had sent him back to drink. As we sat on our stools directly in front of the breads and pastries, we were both amazed at the continuous stream of customers coming in to buy baguettes, loaves and such; my friend was so inspired that he purchased one to take home himself.

We both love people-watching at Can Can for the sheer variety of humankind that frequents the place. I had competition in the terrific tights category today, with several servers displaying unusual patterns worth admiring. As we prepared to leave, I offered our stools to a familiar face from the Virginia Museum who looked about to burst. Seems he'd made an important acquisition for the museum today and was about to have a drink to celebrate; there's nothing quite like the excitement of a true art geek. We were leaving our seats to worthy bottoms.

Then I was off to my Modern Romance class for part 3: Broken Hearts, 1960-80. That period was all about when things don't work out, which in this case means bad buildings. Much of the architecture of this period is eminently forgettable, the Whitney Museum in NYC being a perfect example. Luckily, there was the occasional reprieve like the Sydney Opera House to keep architectural hope alive; even during the period of broken hearts, it's essential to know that something better will come along. Next week is the last class and I, for one, am hoping for happy ending.

My last stop was The Camel to meet my music buddy Andrew and see three bands. Except that the bill had been extended to four bands because of an unexpected band traveling through town. I'd wanted to see Benvolio, once part of We Know, Plato! and a guy with a beautiful voice and mad piano skills. It was different hearing him without the backing of a band, but no less enjoyable. He closed with a haunting version of "Hallelujah."

He was followed by the New Rock Church of Fire, a DC band who had been a last-minute addition to the bill. I should have been warned when they began their set by saying "Earplugs are available up front." My complaint with them wasn't how loud they were but how poorly mic'd they were; the vocals were all but lost under the instruments. It's a shame when all you can hear is noise, not music. Fortunately, there was a guy in a plaid shirt dancing in a way that defies description to every note of the noise and he provided excellent entertainment value to the audience behind him, compensating somewhat for what was being done to our ears.

From that outpost of suburbia, Fairfax, we heard Kid Architecture and in comparison, their set was beautifully mic'd. Incubus-like vocals with Editors-like guitars and Coldplay-like keyboards, their volume was eminently more listenable. They even brought free CDs with which to woo the crowd; Andrew was particularly taken with the CD's title, PhilosoRaptor.

I've seen headliners At the Stars on numerous occasions and recommend them to fans of Brit-pop. They usually include a cover in every set and tonight's was a superb version of The Railway Children's "Every Beat of the Heart," a terrific song, even if it is a couple of decades old. I did have to wonder how many in the audience even knew it was a cover, though.

Not that it mattered, really. It was the perfect song to end the evening with and my bleeding ears enjoyed every single word.

True Love and Bouchon

If it's Thursday, I must be at my Modern Romance class and tonight's topic was true love.

Last week was about that giddy first kiss stage, but tonight we moved on to something more substantial, namely true love.

That stage where reality sets in, compromises are made and love deepens. You know.

Of course, this modern love class is all about architecture and tonight we covered 1930-1960.

After the exuberance of movements, manifestos and the shock of the new in the first 30 years of the last century, the next 30 were all about the socially-driven architecture of Europe rebuilding after the war versus the capitally-driven need for commerce in the U.S. (now there's a surprise).

Luckily for us, many European architects came here to share their talent on our soil.

From the first exhibit of modern architecture at the MOMA in 1932 to the flying exuberance of the TWA Terminal at JFK, this was the period when compromises were made to the realities of economics and site, while still creating landmark buildings.

You know, the Seagram's Building and the Empire State Building and although the Guggenheim Museum was built at the tail end of this period, it clearly represents no compromises with reality whatsoever, but such is its charm.

Tonight's after-school snack was at Bouchon, where I was joined by my extremely hungover friend.

 She was slow to order, but I dove right into their bar menu, a steal at only $4 per item.

I had the pork rillettes with toasted baguette slices and gherkins, along with the Portabello stuffed with ratatouille, spinach and Gruyere.

The rillettes, made with pork shoulder, was everything it should be: rich, fatty, salty and addictive.

The mushroom, which came with a side salad, was a perfect combination of veggies and cheese.

I definitely wasn't scoring any points with my arteries tonight, but, oh, was it good.

The owner surprised us with dessert, apparently thinking my friend could use some rich ice cream to coat her stomach and ease her malaise.

I don't expect she'll drink that many cosmos again in this lifetime.

Topics on the table tonight were stalking exes, overly late nights and Valentine's Day plans and even a hungover friend has strong thoughts on all three.

What we didn't get around to discussing tonight was true love, despite my new-found knowledge on the subject.

No need to jump the gun; I'm still processing what I learned last week about the first kiss stage and all the ensuing giddiness.

Twitterpation, if you will.

That's more than enough to process for the time being.

First Kiss and a Blind Date at Bin 22

Modern Love: A Romance in Four Parts about sums up my evening.

Passion! Beauty! Betrayal! Architecture!

Tonight was the first night of a four-week class at the Virginia Center for Architecture on the topic of 20th century architecture.

I wasn't sure what to expect from the other attendees; how many other people could there be like me who would be willing to commit to four Thursday nights in dreary February, albeit for just an hour, just to look at building slides and learn something?

Well, at tonight's installment, First Kiss: 1900-1930, there were easily two dozen or more, pretty evenly split between men and women of all ages.

The lecturer, Roberto Ventura, had broken down the series by the stages of a romance.

Tonight he said it was all about the early stages of love, characterized by twitterpation, that giddy state of being entirely infatuated with someone.

Bambi fans, you know what I'm talking about, but it was a new word to me.

It was an analogy for the changes in architecture brought about by the Industrial Revolution and centered largely on Chicago because of the massive rebuilding that went on there after the great fire.

That, and Mr. Otis' invention.

While he didn't invent the elevator, he did invent the safety elevator, which allowed the elevator to brake if the hoisting ropes failed, which meant buildings could be designed to be much taller.

Believe me, this was fascinating stuff to the group of us in the room.

After class, I moved on to Bin 22 for an after-school snack and ran into Austin, a friend and talented artist, who'd just had a table accepted into a prestigious show to be held at MIT this summer.

While I enjoyed my Pratsch Gruner Vetliner and a Soppressetta, Fontina and arugula Panini, we discussed the music being played (British Sea Power, the National, Talking Heads) as well as the music on his computer, which was equal parts stuff I like and then a whole lot of classic rock.

I no longer shake my head when I see this combination, but I'll never understand it.

Iron and Wine and the Rolling Stones?

Ugly Casanova and Led Zeppelin?

Postal Service and the Kinks?

Sigh.

Greg the owner, was telling me about the waiter race held in Carytown on Bastille day two years ago, in which he'd been a participant.

I'm familiar with a similar annual event in D.C., but didn't recall the one here.

He cracked us up with the dramatic story of victory being snatched from his hands (or more accurately, him almost running into a trashcan and overcompensating, causing the wine bottle to fall off his tray); it's apparently still fairly fresh in his mind.

He was robbed.

Interestingly, considering the romance theme of the evening, there was a couple there on a blind date and the staff was enjoying making observations about how much they were drinking and how it was going.

The couple looked a bit nervous, but also into each other, causing the staff to assume that it was going to end with (insert pounding sound and crude gesture).

I preferred to focus on their body language, which did point to romantic possibilities.

And now, for the finale to my evening, I once again have a new mix tape and specific instructions on how I am to listen to it.

It is a sequel to my all-time favorite mix, Naive Melodies/Waiting and is simply titled Still Naive.

After an evening of twitterpation at the Branch House, it already sounds to be just what I want to hear.