Cafe Ole: Slugs and Salamanders

Slugs need food, too.

I say that because I accomplished next to nothing today, making me feel very lazy and yet by late afternoon, all I could think of was where I wanted to eat lunch.

I've no doubt that my sluggishness arose from two of the last three nights being 3 a.m. bedtimes.

What with today being the weekend, though, I corrected that deficit by getting up, having breakfast and taking a windy walk before crashing for a two-hour nap.

And I don't know about you, but I always wake up from a nap hungry, so when I arose around 3:00, I found myself headed to the new Cafe Ole in Carytown still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

Since I'd never patronized Ben and Jerry's, it was my first time in that space with its great panorama of C-town's street theater.

And today's sunshine had brought out a full cast of characters human and canine.

With the Arcade Fire's new album "The Suburbs" blaring overhead, the place had all the entertainment I could hope for.

I was disappointed to see that the wall menu had a paper sign over the nachos portion saying "No Nachos."

When I inquired as to why nachos were not yet available (I mean, come on, the ingredients are all over the rest of the menu), I was told it was because they don't yet have a salamander.

This became a teachable moment because I didn't know about Salamander toaster ovens.

My server explained, "They're expensive and we just opened, so we gotta pay the electric bill before we buy anything else new. But nachos are definitely coming."

Whew.

So I had to move beyond the nachos portion of the menu for my late lunch.

Although I didn't see them on the menu, I took a chance and asked if they had fish tacos; they were always my favorite item at the downtown Cafe Ole.

Bingo!

I ordered a couple of those, found a window table and settled in to read the Washington Post article about the competitive eating club at University of Maryland (my alma mater).

Frankly, I found the idea of a school-sponsored club centered around overeating pretty repulsive, but who am I to judge extra-curricular activities?

My tacos arrived, full of blackened tilapia, fruit salsa (pears and mango, but I was told it changes), and chopped lettuce with a honey/chipotle sauce; they were surrounded by Ole's signature chips (fried in peanut oil the sign boasts) and house salsa.

It had been easily a year since I'd last had the downtown location's fish tacos and these were just as good as I remembered. It occurred to me that down there, you could only get them on Thursdays.

And, come to think of it, why weren't they listed on the menu at all here?

Enquiring minds need to know, so I went up to the counter to ask.

Turns out they only serve fish tacos in Carytown on Saturdays, Mondays and Wednesdays.

So I'd just lucked out in ordering them today.

The girl did say that they were sort of planning to add them to the menu soon and possibly even daily.

I told her I was glad for my random good luck in having inadvertently stumbled in on a fish day.

"Oh, good!" she said, sounding relieved. "I thought you were coming up to say you were allergic to tilapia or something."

Not a chance.

Slugs eat everything, honey.

Cafe Ole and My Friendly Rebuttal

Back when I worked downtown, a co-worker and I made regular pilgrimages to Cafe Ole on Thursdays for fish tacos, which we both loved. The place was always stupidly busy with an endless stream of people coming in to eat or grab take-out. Through my usual nosey conversations with other eaters, I had discovered how many of them frequented the place more than once a week because they enjoyed the food so much. And I hadn't been there in over a year.

With it being spring break this week, my teaching friend was free and asked me to lunch, suggesting Cafe Ole because he hadn't been in ages either. So we braced for the crowds and went off in search of mid-day Mexican. He knows the owner, Betsy, and sure enough, when she saw him, her first question was about when he was going to put up a show of his photographs on her walls. Apparently she's asked him before and he's been slow to respond. Too bad, really, considering how many people frequent this place and would get a chance to see his interesting work, here.

Maybe it was the cool, damp weather or maybe just Monday malaise, but the hordes that usually fill the place at lunch time were quite manageable today. We made the mistake of sitting in the front dining room, though, so with every time the front door opened, the room temperature dropped a little. I had the classic nachos and photo friend had a quesadilla, but helped me a bit with my overly-generous serving. With Cafe Ole, it's their chips that make them rise above the Mexican fray; everyone who eats there regularly mentions their thin, crispy, salty perfection. Buried under nacho toppings, they not only held their own but elevated a pretty standard dish (refried beans, tomatoes, onions, jalapenos and cheddar).

Afterwards, we went location scouting for a shoot my friend has on Wednesday. It's a futuristic-looking model he'll be using, so he was seeking an unidentifiable and industrial kind of setting. We did endless loops through a VCU building, finding any number of anonymous halls and sterile stairways that would suit his purpose; he did quick shots of each for consideration later.

Meanwhile, I peered into chemistry labs and dreary math classrooms and admired the third story view of Main Street, Harrison Street and the walkways below behind the tennis bubble. I saw giant beakers as tall as my legs and canisters of gas that reached my chest; it all felt kind of scientific and abandoned, like a movie set for a sci-fi film I'd undoubtedly never see.

And speaking of unseen movies, I spent the first half hour of our time together taking abuse from my friend who'd discovered on my blog that I've never seen Raiders of the Lost Ark. Let's just say he was in cultural shock over my oversight and wanted to rub it in for as long as possible. I make no apologies; I am not a fan of adventure films and I know a sufficient amount about it to understand the cultural references. That's enough for me.

When we'd first walked into the VCU building, a flier for a writing class had caught my eye. One of the things the class promised to teach its students was "how to make friends with your counter argument." I'm practically BFF with my rebuttal of his argument that I'm a film cretin for not having seen one of the seminal films of the 1980s.

Didn't want to, didn't have to. Getting along just fine without having seen it. I couldn't be friendlier with my counter argument, but it helps that I know what's right for me.