Sausage and Sympathy

If you offer me sausages, I will come.

And tonight Sausage Craft, Chris Mattera's artisanal food workshop, was throwing a party to show off their new space and bring together sausage loving fools. So I went. It turned out to be much more than just sausage, although that alone would have been enough given the delectability of Chris' ground meats.

Also represented were local cheese-makers Meadow Farm and Caromont, Buzz and Ned (with their sliced pig) and Free Run Wine Merchants. There was beer, too, but I couldn't tell you what kind.

What I can tell you is that the sausages I ate were positively addicting.

There was the San Miniato, Carmelina's and the braising sausage, probably my favorite. It was a sausage that is cooked all day until its pig flavor is one with the braising liquid and vegetables; I went back three times for more of it over Billy bread.

Sublime does not begin to describe it.

Abi of Free Run Wine merchants, whom I'd just seen at the Matt & Kim show and the Metric show, was pouring some of their off-the-radar Northwestern wines, most of which end up at select Seattle restaurants. The few that escaped are now available in RVA.

I tried the Impuls Chardonnay, the "71," a Syrah/Cabernet Sauvignon blend and then, for a palate cleanser, the M. Lawrence "Us," a sparkling blend of pinot noir and chardonnay done in the Prosecco method. I finished with the Left Coast Cellars "Cali's Cuvee," a Pinot Noir from the Willamette Valley.

All worth tasting again, but the "71" spoke most directly to me.

The Jason Jenkins Trio was providing the jazz and I ran into a few people I knew. Okay, lots of people I knew. The surprise was being discovered by those I didn't. One guest guessed my identity by my tights ("You must be Karen!") and another, once he learned I blogged about going out in Richmond, by my enthusiasm ("I sensed that was you").

Mattera's new work space was impressive for its variety of meat grinders and the sheer size of the refrigerators/freezers. As a friend and I discussed, it would have made a great setting for a Halloween party.

Meat Grinder #2 was my official base of operation, allowing me a full view of the room, a straight shot of the band and a surface on which to place drinks and plates while chatting with old and new friends.

When I'd done all the damage I could, I left for greener pastures, which is to say a glass of wine and dessert. And a small rescue mission.

Earlier today, I'd been out front re-potting a plant when a friend and neighbor walked by. Upon asking her how she was, she answered "Fine" but with such a quiver in her voice that it was clear she was anything but.

She said she'd been dumped last night and, to add insult to injury, she had discovered this on Facebook when her ex changed his relationship status.

Talk about a cold way to end things.

I gave her a hug and asked what she was doing to deal with it. Her plan was to spend some quality time with friends at Six Burner tonight to distract herself from being so sad. So I stopped by to be one of the feel-better missionaries. Even if I couldn't offer any encouragement about getting over being dumped, I could at least be there for her.

For a Monday evening, it ended up being a good crowd of people I knew and didn't. My farmer's market friend told me she was getting a divorce and that that was a good thing (I congratulated her).
I met a girl who wanted to talk music, so we discussed M. Ward and Mumford & Sons (whom I can't stand) and surprisingly, she'd not yet explored She and Him.

I saw a favorite DJ who, just last week, had led off with an awesome trio of music at Balliceaux (retro to the max: Tainted Love, Melt with You, Young Turks) and needed to be told that. He beamed when I complimented his mix.

Another friend, one of those I run into almost every time I'm out, upon seeing me announced, "Okay, one of us has to leave." Neither of us did and for a change, we had a good, long discussion of make/female dynamics, Jack Kerouac and the uses of basil (I grow, he cooks).

Normally we're ships that pass in the night and tonight we entertained each other.

Another eight or so sausage party attendees came in and sat down to be wined for the evening. The new Belle magazine was on the bar, so I could show off my cover story. I ate part of my dessert and shared the rest with a friend.

But mostly I listened and consoled my friend and neighbor who is still stinging from her unexpected discharge. I almost made a crack about our block of J-Ward becoming known as "Dumpee Row," but decided against it.

As I recall, humor is in short supply during the early stages.

I wish I'd had some of Chris' sausage to cheer her up. Sausage that good makes everything feel better.

Or nearly everything.

"What a Waste!"

There's an old Rx form hanging in Tarrant's that prescribes a gallon of beer for treatment of diabetes. I'd like to see an Rx that prescribes brunch with a girlfriend for any number of female maladies, particularly machinations of the head and heart.

That's a roundabout way of saying that after three hours at the Empress with a girlfriend, I feel so much better about all the stuff that's been chasing around in my head the past two weeks.

As she pointed out, I have a habit of squaring my shoulders to the world and never letting on when things are occupying my mind, which they most certainly have been of late.

She chose the Empress because she's gluten-intolerant and every single thing on the brunch menu is gluten-free, including French toast and crepes. She ordered my favorite salad with arugula, Edam cheese, grilled chicken, garbanzo bean, sunflower seeds in a red wine vinaigrette, but I wasn't going to let myself go that route again.

Instead, I couldn't pass up the green eggs and lamb (Derby sage scrambled eggs, grilled lamb chops and hash browns), which was every bit as amazing as it sounds.

Props to Dr. Seuss for being the inspiration for something so catchy-sounding and mouth-watering. And how often do you get to suck bones at brunch? I'd say not nearly often enough.

Our server was a delight, relating to us and our conversation every time he stopped by to check on us. For every dilemma we were discussing, he had an anecdote and empathy to offer (men!). After the first hour, we were the only customers left, so we didn't feel like we were taking him from more pressing things.

Dessert was the ginger/cayenne chocolate pate, more because the kind of serious dishing we were doing called for chocolate than because either of us really needed it. Or perhaps it was celebratory since she'd been finally addressing a couple of personal issues in her life and I'd had a couple of almost forward steps in mine.

Which is not to say that either of us is satisfied with where our lives are at the moment, but when we're really honest with each other, maybe there is hope that things will eventually work out. You know, like before we're dead.

Or maybe I just need to quit squaring my shoulders and get my prescription refilled more often.

I need to do something, that's for sure.

Two Topics To Tiptoe Around

When we look back at 2009, I doubt any of us will remember it as a banner year.

But for me it's been just the worst.

In a matter of eight weeks, I lost employment, health and love.

Happily, the only lingering traces of my extreme pneumonia are an annoying occasional cough, but the other two areas of my life are a bit more problematic.

So for the benefit of others out there like me (my fellow unemployed and dumped), may I suggest that you avoid asking us a couple of questions that only serve to remind us of our state of being and which we really don't want to answer anyway.

The first is, "Any luck finding a job yet?"

Let me assure you, when we are again employed, we will be shouting it from the rooftops, telling strangers and boring everyone with details.

Until then, it's just another time we have to acknowledge our failure.

The other question to be avoided is, "Why aren't you dating yet?"

Uh, because I'm still working through this whole broken-hearted thing? Because I'm not ready to? Because there's no point?

Believe me, if a woman like me is deliberately opting out of trying to find a partner, there's probably a good reason.

Nagging her to make the effort is not going to change her readiness for it, and it's definitely not something she needs to hear.

Or read, as in in my freaking horoscope: A new love is simply a new person awakening the feeling of love that was already inside you. It's nice to have someone unlock it for you, but not necessary. It was always there. 

Oh, really?


Take it from someone who knows, your laid off and dumped friends are happy to talk about almost anything except jobs and love.

I'm sure you can understand.

Nothing is Different, but Everything's Changed

Clearly my planets are out of alignment because it has been one seismic life event after another since mid-December.

No doubt, these things cause major stress, but I am doing my best to accept and move forward as best I can.

I've been jobless for two months, but, given the economy, that's not a very long time.

When I was laid off in 2004, the economy was much stronger and it still took me 4 1/2 months to find a job and not even one that I wanted, but one that paid the bills for 2 1/2 months until I found the job I did want.

So, no reason to be discouraged about my job state yet. I continue to send out resumes and hope for the best.

Okay, pneumonia for a month was completely out of the blue.

I almost never get sick, so being incapacitated for so long, including five days in Intensive Care, was daunting.

But, I am probably 97% recovered now so that's behind me.

I've paid my pneumonia dues, so to speak.

When a long time relationship ends unexpectedly, there's not a lot to do about it other than accept and grieve.

That simple statement belies just how devastated I was at being dumped by the person I thought was the love of my life after six years.

I had honestly thought we would grow old together; I loved him that much and thought we had committed to that.

But since you can't make someone love you, I have no choice in this awful situation.

That's where I am right now.

Will I feel differently about it in 6 months or a year or two?

I don't know, but going forward I have to hope that I won't be this sad forever.

Or maybe I will.