Love is dead. Kermit the Frog and Miss Piggy announced their conscious uncoupling today.
Even an optimist like me has to have her faith in happily ever after shaken a bit by that. Who's next, Mom and Dad?
Setting aside personal concerns for the greater good, I walked over to 1708 Gallery for tonight's talk and dinner on BridgePark. Although it hadn't been all that long since I'd attended a community conversation on BridgePark, tonight's was less a meeting and more of a social.
In other words, there was a cash bar.
More importantly to me, there was also a week-long exhibit devoted to a model, sketches, a film and enlarged photographs of the proposed BridgePark connecting the green spaces of the state capital to the river and Manchester.
The challenge was being able to see these ideas brought to the gallery's walls and floor space given the crush of warm bodies filling 1708. It wasn't the same crowd that had attended the last meeting in Manchester. No, this was a far artsier crowd and with drinks in hand, the feeling was more of one big cocktail party.
Not that there's anything wrong with an art meet and greet.
Gallerists and arty types abounded, along with young families, river devotees and BridgePark's growing following.
One large photo of the James at sunset made comparisons:
The Seine
The Arno
The James
Another showed two eagles facing off in mid-air. It read:
Food, Music. Fun.
And eagle battles.
After the crowd was nicely lubricated, organizer Ted got the crowd's attention - no easy task amid all the kvetching - and did a shorter presentation than the one I'd seen last.
He admitted to our collective love affair with the old train bridge piers in the river (we can't deny it). He spoke of making better use of an under-utilized bridge. To really grab the crowd, he showed a photo of the July 4th fireworks taken from the bridge.
When all of a sudden technology failed him and the images wouldn't move forward, a guy near me shouted out, "Kill the DJ!" I thought it was funny. Device again working, we finished the presentation with no further good-natured heckling.
Then and only then were people allowed to go through the food line, enjoying a repast curated by the Underground Kitchen, cooked by Chef Carly Herring with food supplied from Belmont Butchery, Renew Richmond, Shalom Farms and VSU with a charming row of vases holding mostly pink zinnias courtesy of Tricycle Gardens lining the center of the table.
Conveniently, I'd stationed myself near the food table for the presentation, so it wasn't far to be the second person in line (behind the tiny woman with the sleeping child in her arms). Beef vegetable soup, beautifully balanced kale salad with Feta and craisins in a honey dressing, a simply dressed tomato and onion salad that tasted like the tomatoes had been in the ground this morning and the heel a loaf of Sub Rosa's brown bread filled up my plate.
We'd been told that the reason for the large communal table was so that we might sit next to a stranger (something I do on a fairly frequent basis, btw) and build community by discussing our impressions and hopes for BridgePark with others also interested in the project.
I sat down with empty chairs on either side of me.
Her backside had barely hit the chair when the woman next to me introduced herself and I recognized her as a rock climber who'd expressed concerns about losing the southside climbing wall in the plans for the park. She confirmed her love of climbing, informing me that we were one of the rare cities who had natural climbing places downtown.
We'd already heard from Ted that we were one of two state capitals with eagle habitats downtown. And don't get us started on our Class IV rapids downtown or we might go on for days.
Another woman sat down next to her, explaining that she was a lawyer who'd known Ted before he stopped lawyering to run the BridgePark non-profit. Next came a familiar face - a WRIR DJ who also plays around town as a DJ - across from me, but I couldn't very well send him on his way just because I knew him, could I? I spotted the Man About Town standing in the food line holding lemonade for a young damsel.
Carly's soup with Belmont Butchery's beef in the starring role was ridiculously appealing given that it was still 90+ degrees outside. Sub Rosa's bread soaked up every bit of broth. I chatted with my new friends about BridgePark's possibilities.
To accompany our meal, Rodney the Soul Singer crooned at the front of the room as the film showing the majesty of the James played behind us. Everywhere around me, people were busy eating and talking about the concept of a bridge park in Richmond.
They were putting on a good show, but I'm willing to bet that under those lively facades, their hearts were aching with the depressing news of Kermit and Piggy's breakup. What hope is there for the rest of us?
As far as moi is concerned, sometimes you just have to eat a chocolate chip/macadamia/coconut cookie and call it a day.
Showing posts with label belmont butchery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label belmont butchery. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
A Fresh Take on Food at the Byrd
When Tanya Cauthen at Belmont Butchery thinks a food film is important enough for her to sponsor a screening in RVA, I'm there. Which is to say that I was at the Byrd Theater tonight for a showing of "Fresh," presented by Flavor magazine.
The event began with a sampling from local sources such as Manakintowne Growers, who were handing out baggies of micro-greens, each with a slice of watermelon radish. Considering I've eaten their micro-greens in any number of restaurants around town for years, it was great to finally put a face to the greens, so to speak.
The Farm to Family bus was outside and open for business. AnnaB's Gluten Free bakery had samples of bread, chocolate cake and M & M cookies to share. Tanya was passing out charcuterie (and showing off her beautiful engagement and wedding rings). Relay Foods Richmond had various local farm cheeses to spread on crackers.
Given the abundance of local and organic offerings, I saw only a very few people nervy enough to approach the concession stand for faux buttered popcorn or soda. One of the friends I met there did say she felt herself looking longingly at the Milk Duds, but she didn't give in to the omnipresent high fructose corn syrup devil.
Beginning with a dewy morning on the farm, the short film (72 minutes) addressed the issues of the industrial food system that's depleting our land, polluting our environment, promoting obesity and generally just messing with Mother Nature.
There are no mono-cultures in nature and yet our industrial food system insists on creating them, to the detriment of the product and the environment. Who ever thought this was a good idea?
From early shots of baby chicks being callously tossed onto the coop floors like rocks, to shots of pigs penned so closely together that you couldn't tell where one stopped and another started, the film balanced the negative with the hopeful.
Of course, it wouldn't be a food film without Micheal Pollan giving his insight, but the farmers shown, including a Virginian, were articulate, informed and honestly committed to a more sustainable future.
Their assurances that individual efforts by farmers and consumers will eventually make the difference in how things are done and what we eat were the backbone of the film.
And we need to do something soon. The difference in the nutritional value of fresh produce has diminished 40% since 1950. If that's not evidence that we need to change our existing food system, I can't imagine what would be.
And since study after study has now proven that a medium-sized organic farm is more productive than a large industrial-scale farm, we have a clear model for what we need to move towards. One farmer characterized it as a melding of indigenous wisdom with the best of technology.
After the screening, a panel of locals took questions and addressed issues from the movie, including the cloudy difference between natural, organic and local (as well as why many small farmers don't get USDA organic certification: it costs too much).
As one older man in the film said, in his lifetime we have gone from family farming and small markets to industrial farming and supermarkets and we need to use the rest of our lifetime to change it back.
Being the enthusiastic eater that I am, I'm all for anything that makes the food taste better and my oh-so-practical side supports raising healthier food so that I'm getting the most out of whatever I do eat.
Let's just not lose sight of the cardinal rule here: everything tastes better with bacon.
That's my indigenous wisdom for you.
The event began with a sampling from local sources such as Manakintowne Growers, who were handing out baggies of micro-greens, each with a slice of watermelon radish. Considering I've eaten their micro-greens in any number of restaurants around town for years, it was great to finally put a face to the greens, so to speak.
The Farm to Family bus was outside and open for business. AnnaB's Gluten Free bakery had samples of bread, chocolate cake and M & M cookies to share. Tanya was passing out charcuterie (and showing off her beautiful engagement and wedding rings). Relay Foods Richmond had various local farm cheeses to spread on crackers.
Given the abundance of local and organic offerings, I saw only a very few people nervy enough to approach the concession stand for faux buttered popcorn or soda. One of the friends I met there did say she felt herself looking longingly at the Milk Duds, but she didn't give in to the omnipresent high fructose corn syrup devil.
Beginning with a dewy morning on the farm, the short film (72 minutes) addressed the issues of the industrial food system that's depleting our land, polluting our environment, promoting obesity and generally just messing with Mother Nature.
There are no mono-cultures in nature and yet our industrial food system insists on creating them, to the detriment of the product and the environment. Who ever thought this was a good idea?
From early shots of baby chicks being callously tossed onto the coop floors like rocks, to shots of pigs penned so closely together that you couldn't tell where one stopped and another started, the film balanced the negative with the hopeful.
Of course, it wouldn't be a food film without Micheal Pollan giving his insight, but the farmers shown, including a Virginian, were articulate, informed and honestly committed to a more sustainable future.
Their assurances that individual efforts by farmers and consumers will eventually make the difference in how things are done and what we eat were the backbone of the film.
And we need to do something soon. The difference in the nutritional value of fresh produce has diminished 40% since 1950. If that's not evidence that we need to change our existing food system, I can't imagine what would be.
And since study after study has now proven that a medium-sized organic farm is more productive than a large industrial-scale farm, we have a clear model for what we need to move towards. One farmer characterized it as a melding of indigenous wisdom with the best of technology.
After the screening, a panel of locals took questions and addressed issues from the movie, including the cloudy difference between natural, organic and local (as well as why many small farmers don't get USDA organic certification: it costs too much).
As one older man in the film said, in his lifetime we have gone from family farming and small markets to industrial farming and supermarkets and we need to use the rest of our lifetime to change it back.
Being the enthusiastic eater that I am, I'm all for anything that makes the food taste better and my oh-so-practical side supports raising healthier food so that I'm getting the most out of whatever I do eat.
Let's just not lose sight of the cardinal rule here: everything tastes better with bacon.
That's my indigenous wisdom for you.
Friday, June 4, 2010
In the Heat of the Night
The humidity's been at around 82% all evening. All my activities tonight involved lots of sweaty bodies. Everyone who hugged me this evening was sticky. And not one of those statements is a complaint (I'll take hot over cold any time).
My Friday night began at the new pizza place Stuzzi, which was packed for its unofficial opening night soiree. The ABC license hadn't arrived until 2:00 this afternoon (whew!), but the choices tonight were limited to wine and liquor (beer is coming, not that I care). They had no change so only cards were being taken in payment for drinks. Food was on the house with comments being actively solicited. And the a/c struggled to keep up with the crowd and the pizza oven cranking out non-stop pies.
I found my spot at the front bar and ordered my wine from a list on a yellow legal pad (how often does that happen twice in one week?) consisting of a Pinot Grigio, a Chardonnay and a blend of Pinot Grigio and Chardonnay. It will be interesting to see what actually ends up on the wine list.
The large staff was rushing about furiously, figuring out their systems as they went along; everyone was friendly, pleasant and glistening. There were five Stuzzi Chini (delicious little things), two salads, the classic Pizze D.O.C., the Margherita, along with five other pizzas and four pastas. Oh, and three desserts for those who care about such things.
I ordered the spring mix with Gorgonzola and the Italian Sausage (Salsiccia) Pizze with San Marzano tomato sauce, housemade Mozzarella, sausage, basil and EVOO. My salad had so much Gorgonzola on it that I actually didn't finish it all (knowing I had a pie on the way) and that's really saying something. The greens were fresh and it was not overdressed so I gave it a thumbs up. Owner Peter teased me about not being able to finish such wonderful cheese from the originating town. Cheese fail, Karen.
The beauty of a pizza oven with stones from Mt. Vesuvius is that a pie is ready in 60 to 90 seconds. The rustic and amorphic pizza was superb and I shared a piece with an old friend and former neighbor who had stopped by ("I should have known I'd find you here.") on his way to a benefit and he agreed that the pie was beautifully done. Since unlike me, he still lives a block away, he's thrilled with their presence in the Museum District.
Leaving, I ran into Tanya of Belmont Butchery, whom I hadn't chatted with since a party a few months back. She wanted to show me the butchery's garden, so we headed around the corner to meet up with the charming Henry and admire the corn. And the lima beans (be still my heart). And the beets and the mesclun and the peppers and the haricots verts. Strolling the back forty with a light breeze was the perfect after-dinner activity; promises of gifts from their bounty only added to my personal enjoyment of it all. Lima lovers "R" us.
I left the old 'hood for the current one to meet up with a friend and do the artwalk (duh, it is First Friday after all). I specifically wanted to see the "Richmond Illustrators Club 4th Annual Juried Show" because it is always one of my favorite (and best) shows of the year. There was such a variety of talent on Ghostprint's walls tonight and many of the prints were extremely reasonably priced. There was more than one that I could happily look at every day on my own walls.
ADA's "Anniversary Affordable Works and Garage Sale" offered up all kinds of delights in practically every medium. I loved Daniel Davidson's symmetrical images; he only draws the left side and then uses a simple process to transfer it to the right side. Shown was a drawing of the Brooklyn Bridge and another of Queen Elizabeth; the detail in both was riveting. And how clever is he? Half the work and a full picture.
Art 6 had a Juneteenth exhibit that shone for its vintage photographs of blacks posing for the camera pre-1900. Another photography standout was "Soul Rebel: An Intimate Portrait of Bob Marley" by David Burnett at Metro Space Gallery, with a local reggae band conveniently playing outside. Lots of blissed out faces, but no suspicious smells.
I knew I wanted to finish in the courtyard because the Colloquial Orchestra was playing and after hearing them once, I wanted to hear them some more. They started playing with no introduction and it took a few minutes for the crowd, or at least those who were there to hear music, to realize it.
They have an amazing sound and I checked and I'm not speaking out of turn by calling them post-rock. Their dynamic sound builds and wraps around the listener's ear in a way that makes the music everything...unless you're talking and then, sadly for you, it's just background.
Talking to the guys in the band afterwards, they acknowledged a lot of improvisation going on in between certain set points in the music. They also said that they ldo isten to a lot of post-rock, too, and laughingly suggested that they're post-post rock.
What they are to me is a collection of talented musicians playing interesting instruments and creating a sound that doesn't fall neatly into 3 or 4 minute songs, but which will totally capture you for the duration. There could have been no better way to wrap up the evening.
Walking back past Gallery 5, we saw a bit of a fire performance and some belly dancing as we paused on the sidewalk. It was my friend's first First Friday in over two years, so he was particularly thrilled with the events of the evening. I know because he told me so as he gave me a sweaty hug before leaving J-Ward.
As for me, now that I've finished my nightly over-sharing and it's only 12:45, I plan to take my wine and my sticky self and go sit on my balcony for a while to enjoy the heat.
It's not like anyone will know how sweaty I am...and I kind of like it on a June night.
My Friday night began at the new pizza place Stuzzi, which was packed for its unofficial opening night soiree. The ABC license hadn't arrived until 2:00 this afternoon (whew!), but the choices tonight were limited to wine and liquor (beer is coming, not that I care). They had no change so only cards were being taken in payment for drinks. Food was on the house with comments being actively solicited. And the a/c struggled to keep up with the crowd and the pizza oven cranking out non-stop pies.
I found my spot at the front bar and ordered my wine from a list on a yellow legal pad (how often does that happen twice in one week?) consisting of a Pinot Grigio, a Chardonnay and a blend of Pinot Grigio and Chardonnay. It will be interesting to see what actually ends up on the wine list.
The large staff was rushing about furiously, figuring out their systems as they went along; everyone was friendly, pleasant and glistening. There were five Stuzzi Chini (delicious little things), two salads, the classic Pizze D.O.C., the Margherita, along with five other pizzas and four pastas. Oh, and three desserts for those who care about such things.
I ordered the spring mix with Gorgonzola and the Italian Sausage (Salsiccia) Pizze with San Marzano tomato sauce, housemade Mozzarella, sausage, basil and EVOO. My salad had so much Gorgonzola on it that I actually didn't finish it all (knowing I had a pie on the way) and that's really saying something. The greens were fresh and it was not overdressed so I gave it a thumbs up. Owner Peter teased me about not being able to finish such wonderful cheese from the originating town. Cheese fail, Karen.
The beauty of a pizza oven with stones from Mt. Vesuvius is that a pie is ready in 60 to 90 seconds. The rustic and amorphic pizza was superb and I shared a piece with an old friend and former neighbor who had stopped by ("I should have known I'd find you here.") on his way to a benefit and he agreed that the pie was beautifully done. Since unlike me, he still lives a block away, he's thrilled with their presence in the Museum District.
Leaving, I ran into Tanya of Belmont Butchery, whom I hadn't chatted with since a party a few months back. She wanted to show me the butchery's garden, so we headed around the corner to meet up with the charming Henry and admire the corn. And the lima beans (be still my heart). And the beets and the mesclun and the peppers and the haricots verts. Strolling the back forty with a light breeze was the perfect after-dinner activity; promises of gifts from their bounty only added to my personal enjoyment of it all. Lima lovers "R" us.
I left the old 'hood for the current one to meet up with a friend and do the artwalk (duh, it is First Friday after all). I specifically wanted to see the "Richmond Illustrators Club 4th Annual Juried Show" because it is always one of my favorite (and best) shows of the year. There was such a variety of talent on Ghostprint's walls tonight and many of the prints were extremely reasonably priced. There was more than one that I could happily look at every day on my own walls.
ADA's "Anniversary Affordable Works and Garage Sale" offered up all kinds of delights in practically every medium. I loved Daniel Davidson's symmetrical images; he only draws the left side and then uses a simple process to transfer it to the right side. Shown was a drawing of the Brooklyn Bridge and another of Queen Elizabeth; the detail in both was riveting. And how clever is he? Half the work and a full picture.
Art 6 had a Juneteenth exhibit that shone for its vintage photographs of blacks posing for the camera pre-1900. Another photography standout was "Soul Rebel: An Intimate Portrait of Bob Marley" by David Burnett at Metro Space Gallery, with a local reggae band conveniently playing outside. Lots of blissed out faces, but no suspicious smells.
I knew I wanted to finish in the courtyard because the Colloquial Orchestra was playing and after hearing them once, I wanted to hear them some more. They started playing with no introduction and it took a few minutes for the crowd, or at least those who were there to hear music, to realize it.
They have an amazing sound and I checked and I'm not speaking out of turn by calling them post-rock. Their dynamic sound builds and wraps around the listener's ear in a way that makes the music everything...unless you're talking and then, sadly for you, it's just background.
Talking to the guys in the band afterwards, they acknowledged a lot of improvisation going on in between certain set points in the music. They also said that they ldo isten to a lot of post-rock, too, and laughingly suggested that they're post-post rock.
What they are to me is a collection of talented musicians playing interesting instruments and creating a sound that doesn't fall neatly into 3 or 4 minute songs, but which will totally capture you for the duration. There could have been no better way to wrap up the evening.
Walking back past Gallery 5, we saw a bit of a fire performance and some belly dancing as we paused on the sidewalk. It was my friend's first First Friday in over two years, so he was particularly thrilled with the events of the evening. I know because he told me so as he gave me a sweaty hug before leaving J-Ward.
As for me, now that I've finished my nightly over-sharing and it's only 12:45, I plan to take my wine and my sticky self and go sit on my balcony for a while to enjoy the heat.
It's not like anyone will know how sweaty I am...and I kind of like it on a June night.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Earth Day Hip Hop
Okay, I admit it; I went to the Earth Day Festival for music BUT before you judge me too harshly, know that I did take in a lot of the festival too. I am a gardener, I do compost and recycle (including clothing; I never buy new), and I bike and walk whenever possible. So I'm not anti-earth by any means.
But, yes, I went because I wanted to hear Photosyntheizers play outside; I saw them first at WRIR's birthday bash, but in a too-small room, so I wanted to hear what live hip hop could sound like in the great outdoors. The answer: amazing. There was so much room for that sound and the audience kept growing throughout their set.
At one point, the track the DJ was playing was a live one so it ended with clapping. "See, we bring our own applause in case you guys aren't feeling it," Barcodez joked, not that appreciation was a problem. Their other vocalist, Samsun brought her smooth soul vocals to his and the audience ate it up.
After my music jones was satisfied, I walked the festival, running into people and stopping at what interested me. I picked up a sweet pea seedling while a couple of girls next to me argued over whether or not it's too late to be planting. Ladies, it's April 25th, I think we're safe to still plant. Maybe the early warmth has fooled people into thinking we're already to summer but that's just not the case.
I signed up to join the local chapter of the Slow Food Movement and discussed its recent formation with a volunteer. I'm excited to be in on the early stages of this group's arrival in rva. They had a plate of Belmont Butchery's country pate on bread and it was so good it made my eyes close in enjoyment as I ate it. Mmm, slow food good.
I picked up handfuls of seed bombs, the better to improve some of the uglier vacant lots in J-Ward and fired them off on my way home. I've been a big proponent of seed bombs for a couple of years now, as a couple of my friends can attest. ("He's so BAD at this," is all I'm going to say, guys.). So easy and so effective.
I even ventured out onto the Mayo Bridge where they had equipment for the rod-less to try fishing. As many times as I've seen the regular fisherman on that bridge, it was really cool to be one of them for the first time. And no, I didn't catch anything, but now I know what the view looks like and how it feels to be one of the guys wiling away an afternoon on the bridge. My dad was the type who kept our family supplied with a freezer full of rockfish and bluefish year round (Irish Catholics; fish every Friday, don't you know?), so I know he'll be so proud, even with no catch to boast about.
It was the first year for beer at the festival, not that I drink beer, but it seemed to make a lot of people more earth-enthusiastic, so I say, hey, whatever it takes.
For me, it was music, but then who out there is really the least bit surprised about that?
But, yes, I went because I wanted to hear Photosyntheizers play outside; I saw them first at WRIR's birthday bash, but in a too-small room, so I wanted to hear what live hip hop could sound like in the great outdoors. The answer: amazing. There was so much room for that sound and the audience kept growing throughout their set.
At one point, the track the DJ was playing was a live one so it ended with clapping. "See, we bring our own applause in case you guys aren't feeling it," Barcodez joked, not that appreciation was a problem. Their other vocalist, Samsun brought her smooth soul vocals to his and the audience ate it up.
After my music jones was satisfied, I walked the festival, running into people and stopping at what interested me. I picked up a sweet pea seedling while a couple of girls next to me argued over whether or not it's too late to be planting. Ladies, it's April 25th, I think we're safe to still plant. Maybe the early warmth has fooled people into thinking we're already to summer but that's just not the case.
I signed up to join the local chapter of the Slow Food Movement and discussed its recent formation with a volunteer. I'm excited to be in on the early stages of this group's arrival in rva. They had a plate of Belmont Butchery's country pate on bread and it was so good it made my eyes close in enjoyment as I ate it. Mmm, slow food good.
I picked up handfuls of seed bombs, the better to improve some of the uglier vacant lots in J-Ward and fired them off on my way home. I've been a big proponent of seed bombs for a couple of years now, as a couple of my friends can attest. ("He's so BAD at this," is all I'm going to say, guys.). So easy and so effective.
I even ventured out onto the Mayo Bridge where they had equipment for the rod-less to try fishing. As many times as I've seen the regular fisherman on that bridge, it was really cool to be one of them for the first time. And no, I didn't catch anything, but now I know what the view looks like and how it feels to be one of the guys wiling away an afternoon on the bridge. My dad was the type who kept our family supplied with a freezer full of rockfish and bluefish year round (Irish Catholics; fish every Friday, don't you know?), so I know he'll be so proud, even with no catch to boast about.
It was the first year for beer at the festival, not that I drink beer, but it seemed to make a lot of people more earth-enthusiastic, so I say, hey, whatever it takes.
For me, it was music, but then who out there is really the least bit surprised about that?
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Partying Like It's 2010
Any idiot knows better than to turn down a party invitation from a friend who is both a wine shop owner and a talented cook, especially when the guests are a cross-section of interesting types.
Tonight's final fling at our hostess' recently-sold house provided the opportunity to mingle with assorted people in the wine biz, both new and familiar, a fellow art geek from VMFA, a vegetarian I've known since she was in her teens, a fellow Marionette fan, a butcher and a pizza maker, to name just a few.
And even at this late date, I ran into someone who hadn't heard about my status changes.
Sigh, will I never have to stop sharing that series of unfortunate events?
And the food was to die for.
Pork scallopini with tuna sauce, truffled popcorn, curried oysters, probably the best hummus I've ever tasted, meats from Belmont Butchery, sesame noodles, sweet potato and onion salad and cheese, glorious cheeses and that's only a partial list.
I won't even attempt to list the wine smorgasbord because there were so many wine geek types there, all trying to outdo each other with interesting bottles, benefiting us guests greatly.
Our hostess had made a killer party mix tape, making finding her house a snap because of the booming bass line emanating from it.
Her mix ended up being 11 hours, but she edited it to 6+, so we were constantly hearing good stuff.
Between the well-chosen music, the local gossip and the food scene tidbits I heard tonight, I'd have to say the party was practically perfect.
But then I'm a Gemini, like our hostess, and we're known to be enthusiastic party people.
We just bring both of our selves to the party.
Tonight's final fling at our hostess' recently-sold house provided the opportunity to mingle with assorted people in the wine biz, both new and familiar, a fellow art geek from VMFA, a vegetarian I've known since she was in her teens, a fellow Marionette fan, a butcher and a pizza maker, to name just a few.
And even at this late date, I ran into someone who hadn't heard about my status changes.
Sigh, will I never have to stop sharing that series of unfortunate events?
And the food was to die for.
Pork scallopini with tuna sauce, truffled popcorn, curried oysters, probably the best hummus I've ever tasted, meats from Belmont Butchery, sesame noodles, sweet potato and onion salad and cheese, glorious cheeses and that's only a partial list.
I won't even attempt to list the wine smorgasbord because there were so many wine geek types there, all trying to outdo each other with interesting bottles, benefiting us guests greatly.
Our hostess had made a killer party mix tape, making finding her house a snap because of the booming bass line emanating from it.
Her mix ended up being 11 hours, but she edited it to 6+, so we were constantly hearing good stuff.
Between the well-chosen music, the local gossip and the food scene tidbits I heard tonight, I'd have to say the party was practically perfect.
But then I'm a Gemini, like our hostess, and we're known to be enthusiastic party people.
We just bring both of our selves to the party.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Restaurants Not the Usual Suspects
Sunday's Washington Post Travel section had not one, but two articles about eating in RVA.
While I'm always happy to see word of our fair city in the larger press, I'm beginning to wonder about the sources for their destinations.
The first, "In Richmond, fine dining is in the details" was written by Post food critic Tom Sietsema, a man whose writing I read often and always enjoy, and chronicled his eating journey through our little town. Go ahead, I bet you can guess at least three, if not four, of the places where he chowed down.
Duh. Millie's, Can Can, Acacia and Mezzanine (because of its relative newness and Style's Restaurant of the Year award apparently) made the cut.
His only other stop was Buzz and Ned's Real Barbecue where he was underwhelmed. He also found Millie's lacking, despite having had a good lunch there several years ago. The others he enjoyed.
The second article, "For food shops, it's a capital city" was mainly about Belmont Butchery, but also gave a nod to 821, Comfort, Sally Belle's, Kuba Kuba, Yellow Umbrella Seafood and the brand new Spoonfed (formerly Stonewall Market).
The writer raved about Belmont Butchery with good reason, although Tanya Cauthen is quoted as saying that when she needs additonal counter help, she calls on local chefs from Balliceaux and Pomegranate. I question how a place as new as Balliceaux got lumped in with the defunct Pomegranate.
My question is this: can a piece about eating in RVA be written without mention of Can Can, Acacia, Millie's, Comfort, or Kuba Kuba? And, let's be real here, even 821 and Sally Belle's are semi-regulars when the topic is our restaurant scene. I'm not saying these aren't good places to eat, but who doesn't know that by now?
Clearly even the out-of-towners are aware of these places, so why can't we see an article about eating through Richmond mention some of the less obvious eateries we have to offer?
Yellow Umbrella was an unexpected surprise to see given a nod, as was the barely opened Spoonfed, but it was an article about markets after all. But a truly good story about what's worth checking out during a visit to RVA should inform the reader about the places not mentioned over and over in the travel press.
Or, at the very least, whomever is supplying the suggestions to these out-of-town writers should give them the scoop on the places the locals know are our best -kept secrets.
If anyone should need a good source in the future, I'm happy to provide a list of less obvious places worth a bite or sip, as, I'm sure, would any regular diner in Richmond.
Or are we trying to keep these places to ourselves?
While I'm always happy to see word of our fair city in the larger press, I'm beginning to wonder about the sources for their destinations.
The first, "In Richmond, fine dining is in the details" was written by Post food critic Tom Sietsema, a man whose writing I read often and always enjoy, and chronicled his eating journey through our little town. Go ahead, I bet you can guess at least three, if not four, of the places where he chowed down.
Duh. Millie's, Can Can, Acacia and Mezzanine (because of its relative newness and Style's Restaurant of the Year award apparently) made the cut.
His only other stop was Buzz and Ned's Real Barbecue where he was underwhelmed. He also found Millie's lacking, despite having had a good lunch there several years ago. The others he enjoyed.
The second article, "For food shops, it's a capital city" was mainly about Belmont Butchery, but also gave a nod to 821, Comfort, Sally Belle's, Kuba Kuba, Yellow Umbrella Seafood and the brand new Spoonfed (formerly Stonewall Market).
The writer raved about Belmont Butchery with good reason, although Tanya Cauthen is quoted as saying that when she needs additonal counter help, she calls on local chefs from Balliceaux and Pomegranate. I question how a place as new as Balliceaux got lumped in with the defunct Pomegranate.
My question is this: can a piece about eating in RVA be written without mention of Can Can, Acacia, Millie's, Comfort, or Kuba Kuba? And, let's be real here, even 821 and Sally Belle's are semi-regulars when the topic is our restaurant scene. I'm not saying these aren't good places to eat, but who doesn't know that by now?
Clearly even the out-of-towners are aware of these places, so why can't we see an article about eating through Richmond mention some of the less obvious eateries we have to offer?
Yellow Umbrella was an unexpected surprise to see given a nod, as was the barely opened Spoonfed, but it was an article about markets after all. But a truly good story about what's worth checking out during a visit to RVA should inform the reader about the places not mentioned over and over in the travel press.
Or, at the very least, whomever is supplying the suggestions to these out-of-town writers should give them the scoop on the places the locals know are our best -kept secrets.
If anyone should need a good source in the future, I'm happy to provide a list of less obvious places worth a bite or sip, as, I'm sure, would any regular diner in Richmond.
Or are we trying to keep these places to ourselves?
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Recession Dinner at Bin 22
There are many things one can do to assuage loss; eating and drinking have got to be two of the most common. That may explain how my recently laid-off friend and I found ourselves at Bin 22 this evening for their cheap date night. We even held hands while we placed our order to convince our waitress we were in the mood for a romantic dinner for two; okay, we cracked up all the while, but we made the attempt.
I'm sure you know the deal; for $40 you get a bottle of wine (Entrada Cabernet Sauvignon), a choice of soup or salad (we took the mixed green salad), pasta (we had the penne with chunky house made tomato sauce, basil , Pecorino and thick-sliced Belmont Butchery pork sausage. Oh, my god, such amazing pig!) and, for dessert, the ice cream sandwich made with brownies. The meal was truly lovely from start to finish, but that sausage was to die for and we found our Argentinian wine to be exactly what our red wine-starved hearts were calling for.
As a veteran of laid off longevity, it was my mission to convince my recently unemployed friend that life will go on despite her current feelings to the contrary. She's still working through anger and fear of the future, two obstacles I worked through months ago. She's got plenty of marketable skills, so I have high hopes for her re-employment, but she's understandably a bit less confident.
On top of all that, there are, of course, male issues so I offered my take on that side of her life, as she did mine. I'm a great example of "come on, how much worse can things get?" so reminding her to keep a stiff upper lip was second nature. On the plus side, discussing the mess that our lives are provided the evening's entertainment and there's a lot to be said for laughing in the face of adversity while Elvis Costello plays in the background.
Not to mention, a great deal of a meal for those of us on laid-off budgets. Bin 22 provided a hearty dinner we could afford without feeling like we were settling for the sake of saving. I would think even the employed could get into that.
I'm sure you know the deal; for $40 you get a bottle of wine (Entrada Cabernet Sauvignon), a choice of soup or salad (we took the mixed green salad), pasta (we had the penne with chunky house made tomato sauce, basil , Pecorino and thick-sliced Belmont Butchery pork sausage. Oh, my god, such amazing pig!) and, for dessert, the ice cream sandwich made with brownies. The meal was truly lovely from start to finish, but that sausage was to die for and we found our Argentinian wine to be exactly what our red wine-starved hearts were calling for.
As a veteran of laid off longevity, it was my mission to convince my recently unemployed friend that life will go on despite her current feelings to the contrary. She's still working through anger and fear of the future, two obstacles I worked through months ago. She's got plenty of marketable skills, so I have high hopes for her re-employment, but she's understandably a bit less confident.
On top of all that, there are, of course, male issues so I offered my take on that side of her life, as she did mine. I'm a great example of "come on, how much worse can things get?" so reminding her to keep a stiff upper lip was second nature. On the plus side, discussing the mess that our lives are provided the evening's entertainment and there's a lot to be said for laughing in the face of adversity while Elvis Costello plays in the background.
Not to mention, a great deal of a meal for those of us on laid-off budgets. Bin 22 provided a hearty dinner we could afford without feeling like we were settling for the sake of saving. I would think even the employed could get into that.
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