Try Him, You'll Like Him

Reluctantly, I agreed to meet a stranger when I met a friend who doesn't like Acacia at Acacia.

The problem, much to our dismay (and surprise) was that it was half off wine night, so the place was crazed. There was a half-hour wait to be seated at the bar.

My friend was typically late so I waited for bar stools through yes, no and maybe so from the hostess before finally being seated.

My friend may not be a fan of Acacia, but she quickly succumbed to the wine deal with the Montecillo Albarino.

When she tried to order the prix fixe menu, our bartender politely informed her that it was table only (and I wasn't going that way).

After convincing him that I was  but a stranger to her, she got her prix fixe and I got my a la carte selections.

Since he knows me and he'd seen her sit down with me, I thought him extremely gracious for caving to her.

I began with the local Ambrosia melons, cashews, mixed lettuces and bleu cheese salad with celery seed vinaigrette.

She insisted I taste her gazpacho, which tasted like a long, cool drink of summer tomatoes.

I followed with country pate with assorted pickles while she enjoyed Mahi Mahi with cheese grits.

My pate had a good, coarse texture and the sweet pickle slices provided the tangy complement to the pate's richness.

Dessert was coconut sorbet with chocolate cremeux and cocoa nibs, which we both shared, along with a second bottle of that Albarino.

It worked out well because she wanted mostly the sorbet, leaving me to finish up the chocolate. What are friends for?

But her intent tonight soon became clear as she spent the evening trying to convince me to meet a guy she is sure I will like.

I need only go to another city to meet him. And, according to her, be my most charming self because we have loads in common.

All that stuff people tell you when they've promised the other person that they'll deliver you. Which she has.

Why do mated friends care so much that I'm still unattached? Sigh.

After that onslaught, I needed a relaxed conversation with friends who aren't trying to fix me up.

So I finished my evening with a leisurely wine tasting at The Roosevelt, where they'd just ended a weekend-like Tuesday night with enough Tweeting customers in the room for them to keep a check on the pulse of the diners and their very public opinions.

We began with an Afton Mountain Festa di Bacco, a Super-Tuscan that about knocked our socks off with its blend of Sangiovese, Cab Franc, Petit Verdot and Merlot.

It was fruity, acidic and had a great big mouth feel, certainly more than your average Virginia red. We approved, but agreed it needed meat.

And the conversation suited me because it wasn't about fixing me up.

Next up was the Blenheim Petit Verdot, which we'd last tasted on my birthday during our day trip to the winery.

Turns out we hadn't been blinded by the beauty of the mountainous countryside that day; it was every bit as beautiful as we remembered and made fans of the others in the room.

It's just once I got home and let my mind wander over the evening, it hit me.

What exactly have I let myself in for?

Sparkles and Flies

I know Labor Day is traditionally a day for family get togethers and backyard barbecues, although what that has to do with labor is beyond me.

In any case, being one of those people not engaged in labor at the moment, I decided instead to celebrate National Salami Day today by doing some winery hopping out past Charlottesville.

I chose as my companion a friend with a much better developed palate than I.

He even offered to drive, thereby relieving me of any effort on my part beyond swilling and passing the drive dreaming of salami.

We began at Afton Mountain Winery since it had recently changed hands.

The new owner and his son were pleasant enough considering the wines they were pouring were not of their own making.

Next up was Veritas and good god, what a lot of money those people must have.

Forget standing at the bar to taste like the common people do; we were seated at a table by ourselves and the pourer came to us.

We took a short break to tour the winery and returned to the taxing task of tasting 14 wines.

My favorites were the Viognier (big surprise, huh?) and the Claret, so I felt compelled to buy.

By now food was in order, so, as planned, we lunched at the Blue Mountain Brewing Company which was most enjoyable.

The view was stellar and made for a good excuse to linger.

As a perk, I was able to pick up a six-pack of the Full Nelson Virginia Pale Ale (in cans! how cool is that?) for my beer geek friend.

Our last stop was Cardinal Point Winery, where I know the winemakers, Sarah and Tim, and have even poured for them on a couple of occasions.

I know their wines pretty well, but they had a new rose which was interesting and two new dessert wines, named for their dearly-departed winery dogs, Tess and Sophie.

Obie, their present pooch, came out to sniff the beagle scent I carry and laid down to nap nearby.

We made record time getting home, despite 64 crawling with cops pulling over speeders.

But instead of dreaming of salami, I was thinking about what would have made a boring drive like that much more enjoyable and the answer is the right person's hand on my thigh for the drive (I mean, my friend is a great guy and all, but we're not like that).

That doesn't seem like too much to ask and even if it is, I want it anyway.