I Can Like Women, Too

Because the bulk of my friends are male, it's not often that I get invited to a girls' night in. And in this case, the person doing the inviting was Virginia Rowland of Rowland Fine Dining, so I knew it would be a house full of interesting females, with an abundance of wine and amazing food. I was right on all counts.

I admire Virginia; she's half of a long-time happy relationship (marriage even!), she's a hugely talented chef (and her skills as a pastry chef speak to my sweet heart) and, probably most importantly, she is that knockout combination of gorgeous and practical. My own practical streak is far too wide to put up with frivolous female types.

The party got off to a cliched start when not a single woman in the room could make her iPod work through the stereo. We tried everything, making fun of our own sex and yet a little mortified at our collective ignorance. How tough could this be and did we really need someone with a Y chromosome to do it? Input, output, we thought we understood this stuff.

Sadly, yes, the cavalry had to be called (in the form of a husband) but he at least had the decency to arrive in a wig and carrying a purse. After solving the problem, he also knew enough to exit quickly. Let the wine-drenched girl talk begin.

Given the makeup of the group, it was no surprise that there was a lot of restaurant chatter, a thorough dissection of Broad Appetit (especially the prizewinners), some colorful customer stories and, yes, even discussion of who has the most attractive single male customers in their restaurant. What's the point in having a girls' night in if it doesn't devolve into men, dating and relationship stories?

Despite having cooked 500 butterbean cakes for Broad Appetit, Virginia obligingly made more for us tonight and we doused them in the cucumber, feta, grape tomato, avocado salsa and spicy cilantro oil that elevates them from stellar to sublime. She'd also done hanger steak wraps, vegetarian wraps, her take on deviled eggs, an olive platter (plenty of which ended up on the eggs), an extensive assortment of cheeses and various exotic fruits. The salsa her Peruvian brother had made was, without question, the best-tasting thing called salsa that I've ever put in my mouth; I could have eaten it off a spoon. And two kinds of chocolate for dessert.

Growing up as one of six girls in my family, I am completely comfortable in a room full of talkative females because I had nothing but practice at it for so many years. But the fact is, that's undoubtedly part of the reason I've required so few female friends as an adult.

On the other hand, an evening like this with a group of strong-willed and well-spoken women is an excellent reminder that there's a lot to like about my people. My XX people that is.

Highs & Lows: Of Butterbeans & Carols

Perhaps you've gathered from my blog that I'm not much into organized religion...or perhaps you haven't. In either case, let's just say I'm not. Which is not to imply that I totally disdain certain holidays (I don't) but that I may experience some things differently than other people do. The sounds of the season are a perfect example.

I've always enjoyed Christmas music for the most part. Not played all day long and not the embarrassing stuff, but some classic and some newer reinterpreted holiday music is fine. But for some reason, this year I am finding myself offended by hearing religious Christmas songs everywhere I go. A friend and I were in Barnes & Noble the other day when "O Come All Ye Faithful" came on. I know it's an old Christmas carol, but do I really want to hear a song about Jesus or Christ or anything pertaining to a specific religion while I'm looking for magazines? No, actually I don't.

Tonight I was meeting M.H.F. at Rowland for dinner and there, too, I heard Christian carols. Jingle Bells? Okay. I'll be Home for Christmas? Sure. Hark, the Herald Angels Sing? Not so much.

Luckily, Pandora soon made an appearance (although the starting point was Jack Johnson, for whom I have a particular distaste, but many of the singer-songwriter types who followed were stellar). I was relieved to hear the religious songs replaced with music that had no references to saviors or glory. If that makes me a heathen, well, then my grandmother was right (although I still think she was wrong about pink eyeshadow).

I started my meal with the Butterbean Cake with cucumber, grape tomato, feta, avocado, salsa and spicy cilantro oil. I have had this unusual and delicious appetizer before, but not since a dark night in February, so I really savored having it after so long a time. I love my butterbeans and this cake is unlike anything else done with them around here.

Dinner was surf and turf, that is to say I got the Country Style Pork Ribs with BBQ glaze and butternut hash and M.H.F. got the fish special, flounder stuffed with crab meat. There was a lot of sharing going on so that we could both enjoy such diverse dishes. Both were too big to finish, especially for anyone ordering the Chocolate Hazelnut Torte. Wait, didn't I just have chocolate pie for lunch? Why, yes, I did, but that had been ten hours ago.

I'm not begrudging anyone their Christmas carols at home or a party, but let's not share them with shoppers and diners. I feel certain that we'd never allow the sacred music of other religions to be played in general public spaces (well, there's Adam Sandler's Chanukkah song, but that's hardly about the Jews running out of oil).

But a little Vince Guaraldi never hurt (or offended) anybody.