Who's the Greatest Star?

Highlight #1 - Ice cream and deflowering

Visit #4 to the James River Film Festival at the Visual Arts Center was frigid (too much a/c) and charming (foreign and subtitled).

The short, "Bregman/As Follows" was about a Jewish Latin American kid about to have his bar mitzvah.

He studies, he practices, he has the ceremony and party.

And then dad takes him to lose his virginity. When he picks him up, he asks how it was.

The boy turns up the car radio.

Dad asks the boy if he wants to go for ice cream. Fin.

A charming film about a 13-year old being thrown into the deep waters of manhood.

Next was "A Useful Life," a Uruguayan film about a guy who'd worked in an art house cinema for 25 years.

When it closes, he has to figure out what to do with himself.

Like many a confirmed bachelor, he has no idea.

It was shot in black and white and the lead is  played by a Uruguayan film critic, making for a particularly un-actorly performance.

I saw it as addressing the philosophical question, what do you do when everything you know goes away?

I seem to recall addressing that very issue just a few years ago myself, but not in nearly so stylish a black and white film.

Highlight #2- Half priced and washed out

Sunday supper came courtesy of Carytown's new gastropub, Burger Bach, and I went in eager to try a grass-fed, organic burger.

Instead we bellied up to a bar with four screens (a major negative and in hindsight it would have behooved us to sit at the community table and face Thompson Street) and went seafood.

Turns out every day from 4-6 is half off mussels, oysters and shrimp.

Each came with the option of four or five preparations, so we got mussels in a traditional sauce (garlic, shallots, parsley, lemon, white wine), oysters casino (bacon, peppers, onions, Parmesan) and shrimp in a French sauce (Dijon mustard, shallots, cream, garlic and tarragon).

The place had a borderline chain feel despite being a standalone, the wine list was all New World (although no U.S.) so there were several good South African choices and tons of Australian and New Zealand.

The music was spot on, doing enough interesting alternative to keep my ears pricked.

Anytime I hear Washed Out in a restaurant two night before I'll see them play out gets major points.

A stroll down Cary Street wound up at Amici where the front was completely open in the beautiful evening air.

Lots of people were catching a pre-show meal before Allison Krause but we just wanted dessert: panna cotta and chocolate mousse with a light breeze blowing in from the street.

Highlight #3: Song for a Ukrop

The Ghostlight Party at Richmond Triangle Players had been on my calendar for a month since I always seem to be out of town when they occur.

I knew from the organizer (a fabulous bartender and chatter) that it promised to be a rollicking good time and it was.

We arrived at 8:00 for naught; by the time it did begin, host Matt came out in a black bustier, panties, fishnets, black heels and lipstick.

"Sorry for the late start. Clearly we're on drag time," he said to much laughter.

And that's how the party began and I use party loosely because you pay your five bucks and you're at the party.

It's worth it for the parade of local theater talent who show up at one point or another during the four-plus hour soiree.

One of tonight's guests was actress Susan Sanford, whom I first saw in "The Merry Wives of Windsor Farms" so long ago that neither she nor I would want to admit it.

Although I still remember it as one of the cleverest adaptations of the Bard I've seen.

Back to my point, which was that despite having seen her in many shows, I had no idea she had such a great singing voice.

When called to the stage and heralded as "the best diva here," she was quick to toss an "Oh, shut up!" over her shoulder.

Everyone was a ham and it was great fun watching them tackle theater music whether they remembered every lyric or not ("Not the point," the host Matt insisted).

And it's a theater-savvy audience with people saying things to each other like, "You can't go wrong with a Richard Rodgers."

Matt switched to a leather jacket, cuffed up girl's jeans and hot pink platform pumps to sing a pouty happy birthday to Ted Ukrop.

Ted allowed that Matt's legs were the best he'd seen in a while.

Sarah Porter got up to do "A Single Tear" (and in Italian, too; it was impressive) since it's the 100th anniversary of the Titanic.

"Do we applaud that?" Matt ruminated out loud to the audience.

Good question. There was a smattering of applause.

We heard "Because the Night" and Joe Jackson's "Breaking us in Two," resulting in a funny moment when Andrew Hamm stopped playing piano and singing and said accusingly to Liz Blake-White, "Wait, you're not supposed to be singing the harmony there."

Her guilty face said it all.

One showstopper was Sanford doing "I'm the Greatest Star" from "Funny Girl" except that she substituted names Streisand wouldn't have known.

Instead of singing "Hey, Mr. Keeney, here I am!" she substituted "Hey, Mr. Kniffen, Hey, Mrs. Piersol, Hey, Mr. Maupin, Hey, Mr. Patton, here I am!" to make it RVA-funny.

And don't get me started about the two guys who shall remain nameless singing "Suddenly, Seymour" to each other  as they tried not to crack up.

One guy was asked to remove his shirt before he sang (actually there was also unzipping of his pants).

Once we admired his body, we heard his beautiful singing voice.

That's just how they roll at the Ghostlight party.

The whole evening was truly like a party; the bar was open, there was all kinds of food (little savory meat roll-ups) and sweets (eclairs and cupcakes) and later snacks (pizza arrived around 11:30).

If you didn't want to hear a song, you went to the lobby and gabbed away.

And Matt and Maggie kept the whole show rolling along, collecting names of people who wanted to perform when not dancing or singing backup (Maggie) and making witty and/or dirty commentary between songs (Matt).

Both played mic stand at one point or another.

But let's be real here. Maggie did her job in flats and Matt was working in five-inch heels and major eye makeup.

You gotta give a man credit where credit is due.

That said, we couldn't have asked for two better hosts for an evening of divas, male and female.

By the time we left, all I could think was "Baby, Hit Me One More Time."

Scott's Addition has the best piano bar in Richmond.

I'd be a fool to be out of town for the next one.

A Pink Statement of Pride

It's not often that a rose crawl becomes a hurricane party.

Today's Carytown Rose Crawl required that I pull out one of my two pink dresses so as to be attired appropriately. I settled on the hot pink mod little shift that looks like it's straight out of 1967.

We began at Amici, a new addition to the crawling process.

As a guy held the door open for me, I walked in and was surprised at the number of people in attendance, including Matt from Secco wearing a pink headband.

The crawl was already paying off in spades.

Amici's rose of choice was Negroamaro Salento and a glass was poured for me almost as soon as I walked in. Well balanced and fruity, it was a nice start.

Our rose crawling group quickly filled the bar area and as I glanced down the bar, every glass held pink. I was definitely where I needed to be.

I met a few new people (another food writer, a woman with a large pink purse) but chose to catch up with a friend I hadn't seen in a while instead of chatting up the masses.

Almost before we knew it, it was time to move on to Amour Wine Bistro; they get points for both the wine offerings (there were eight plus two flights) and the four different food pairings.

With a bit of assistance, I chose the La Bastide St. Dominique Rose and the eggplant caviar on a baguette.

The rose had some gorgeous fruit and a long finish and the eggplant bruschetta 's fresh flavors made for a satisfying snack as we began Round #2.

The crowd grew at Amour as people who couldn't get off work by 5:30 joined us for the second stop.

I (re-) met a farmer and said hello to a few people I knew. Our rose crawlers were steadily growing, much to my delight.

Walking down to Can-Can, some of us who had been on the Riesling crawl a few months back wondered if Can-Can would be better prepared than last time (they were supposedly unaware of the Riesling crawl so I skipped them).

Strike Two; the bar was crowded with their regular crowd (shudder) and they had only two bartenders on staff, so the rose group had nowhere to go and no one to serve them.

Along with several other people, we beat feet and opted out of their offering. It was a shame.

Heading to Secco, the sky was looking ominous and I briefly considered stopping to roll up my car windows.

Bad call not to have done so since we were barely ten minutes inside Secco when the monsoon arrived.

Knowing my open car was being drenched when there was nothing I could do about it in no way hampered my continuation of rose exploration.

The bar had only one seat available, but I quickly claimed it and adventurously ordered the "Dealer's Choice" flight. It's not like rose-loving Secco was going to steer me wrong.

Fifteen minutes in and the lightening seemed to be striking the very heart of Carytown as Chef Tim and I watched from the doorway.

Moments later, we lost all power.

But with back-up lighting at the front and back and some well-placed candles (including the loo), who really needed electricity?

Um, the kitchen so they could cook and the wait staff so they could use the register system, but we customers could drink just fine in the semi-darkness.

My flight arrived on a pink placemat with pink post-it hearts announcing my wines.

From left to right, I had Mazzolino Brut Rose (list notes: "It makes us giggle"), followed by Fenouiellet Rose (beautiful nose and a long finish) and finally the Tete a Claque Rose (refreshing and dry).

Barely into my first glass and enjoying the bubbles, a guy approached me, hoping for help so he could place an order.

He moved here from Poland ten years ago and was looking for a good red, so I recommended a personal favorite, the Chateau Muser "Jeune Rouge" from a  very old wine-growing region in Lebanon.


He got two bottles and came back twice to chat me up. It may sound like I was pimping owner Julia's wine, but honestly, I was just recommending a favorite of mine to a stranger.


After a bit, the amount of oxygen left in the room became scarce, so the front and back doors were propped open to cool things off and improve air flow.


And that's when it began to feel like a hurricane party. We had no music, no food, and no light. You'd have thought people would leave for brighter pastures, but they didn't.


I chatted with a girl who loves her Church Hill neighborhood as much as I love Jackson Ward.


I met a guy who works at Edo's who admitted that it's impossible to hear any music there, much less his favorite band, Led Zeppelin.


I met a bartender who blogs about going out who offered to over-serve me if I came to his bar.


After a while, the chef and sous chef were so bored that they began polishing glasses. Finally the sous chef told me that they could still produce some food in the dark.


Cheese was out because they didn't want to open the refrigerator, but they had spicy almonds, marinated olives, and the tortilla Espanola, which I opted for.


He brought it out seconds later and I felt like all eyes were on me as I ate it, but that didn't stop me. Eggs and ramps were just what I needed at at that point.


My pink dress was mentioned several times by strangers, but only after owner Julia acknowledged her pink underwear did I allow that I was wearing the same. Hey, anything for a good rose crawl.


I ended on Punkt Genau for its bubbles and refreshing quality in a room where the temperature continued to climb. 


The transplanted Pole returned to chat and, all at once, Dominion let there be light.


Although it had been just under three hours in the dark, the mood inside the bar had been convivial. The restored lights were immediately dimmed to power outage levels and the remaining devotees carried on.


But after a time, the thrill of being trapped by the rain and in the dark had spent itself, so people began cashing out.


Still, with a personal best of six roses under my belt, I felt no shame about calling it a night.


Even if a certain Facebook friend did immediately give me a hard time about being home at a reasonable hour.


I hope he took note so I don't have to do it again any time soon. 


What's the point in being home this early anyway?

Amici: Happy 18th!

A restaurant that's been around for almost two decades is doing a lot of things right, so a good friend and I decided to celebrate Amici's unusually long-lived success tonight. The restaurant is celebrating 18 years with a special 3-course menu and 25% off all bottles of wine, so they're definitely making it worth the customers' while to come in before the 26th when Restaurant Hell Week begins.

We chose to celebrate such a momentous anniversary with a bottle of Franciacorta Bellavista Cuvee Brut and, oh, what lovely bubbles these were. We began with Calimari e Zucchini Fritte, the perfect accompaniment, and moved on to salads: mine was spinach with mushrooms and pancetta and hers was arugula, pear and asiago. The bubbles kept pace. I chose ravioli with spinach and ricotta filling and she chose the special, penne with Gorgonzola and walnuts (and, yes, several of the pastas offered had protein: salmon, shrimp, meat sauce). Did we come anywhere close to finishing these pastas? No, but someone will have a lovely leftover lunch tomorrow. I finished with chocolate mousse, more because I wanted it in theory than because I had any room for it.

It was the first time for both of us at Amici since the extensive renovation and the new space is a huge improvement, handsome and sleek. We had a prime patio table in the corner facing Cary Street, despite a full room when I arrived. The advantage of a later dining schedule is the ability to get a choice table once the first round of diners turns over. Service was excellent and unhurried; good thing, too, because we had lots to discuss: 40 oz. drinkers, the books we're reading and. of course, blogs, specifically the kind absent in rva.

Amici provided an exceptional dining experience for us tonight; my only complaint would be that closing time came too soon. We ended up being the last customers of the night (seems to be happening to me a lot lately) and finally felt obligated to move on so the staff could leave. As it was, they had packed up the outdoor pumpkins and gourds, rolled in the sign and gathered at the bar to await our departure.

But at 18, they're old enough to understand the reasons for our lingering.