Tonight was all about birthdays and hearts.
And that doesn't even begin to cover it.
Bistro 27 had put its regulars on notice: chicken hearts were to be had for one night only.
Had I had chicken hearts before? No.
Did I want chicken hearts tonight? But of course.
So I found a willing heart-eater and we made our way to my favorite neighborhood joint, finding the place hopping at 5:30.
"The Producers" has a 7:00 curtain across the street, so eager theatergoers were getting their feedbag on beforehand.
As I tried to make a left toward my favorite bar stool, I saw Chef Carlos' wife and twin baby girls.
Turns out it was the girls' first birthday, too, having conveniently been born on their father's birthday.
So it was to be a three-way celebration with hearts. And cheese rolls.
Apparently in Brazil (Carlos' birthplace), cheese rolls are so popular that even McDonald's has them on the menu.
Tonight, they were part of the birthday celebration.
And what an array of celebrants there were!
Armed with only a glass of Sangiovese, I did my meeting and greeting from the comfort of my bar stool.
Soon, food arrived in the form of chicken hearts on a skewer, along with chicken hearts braised with potatoes.
If eating hearts has the ability to make me bigger hearted, I am most certainly a better person after the dozen hearts I wolfed down.
I got handed one of the twin babies, complete with cheese roll in her tiny hand, and soon discovered how much she liked being laid on my outstretched legs and lowered upside down.
No doubt I was introducing her to the gateway drug to more thrilling pastimes and her father will probably not thank me for it.
Plates of the cheese rolls arrived, airy and quickly consumed.
We did a group birthday sing for Carlos, with the baby in my lap applauding along with everyone else after the song.
A portabella mushroom "napoleon" followed and I found that babies born of a Brazilian father will eat pieces of vinaigrette-soaked Mozzarella like it was as bland as a Saltine.
It was pretty cute.
Lobster ravioli in shrimp bisque was next and one swipe of the bisque delivered the flavor of many shrimp long-cooked.
As is usual with Carlos' ravioli of the day, the filling was abundant and the pasta perfectly cooked.
Because of so many other guests, the conversation was all over the place.
The pleasures of sleeping in versus the paycheck of a 9 to 5 job. Women who lose their fathers and take years to recover. The new arthouse theater at Movieland. Starting a new restaurant job on a busy night.
Eventually the babies left, sent home with freshly cooked pasta courtesy of their talented Dad, and the party went back to being about birthdays and hearts.
Over another glass of Sangiovese, the Brazilian shared his thoughts on planning a trip to Spain and Portugal, based more on what he'd heard than what he'd experienced, since he hadn't been. Yet.
But the eating wasn't over and the next course was head cheese, a personal favorite, and the first time I'd had Carlos' version.
He said he'd been so tempted by a $17 pig's head that he bought it and began the process of turning it into what could be called high-end Scrapple.
With a good mustard and a swirl of a balsamic reduction, it was just beautiful.
By this time, I'd missed the Classical Revolution show at the Camel (musicians sight-reading classical music while getting drunk), so the only logical thing seemed to be to order dessert and more wine.
A chocolate hazelnut torte rounded out an evening of many distinctive flavors as the restaurant gradually emptied out and only the good people were left.
Or maybe that's just how I saw things given all the heart I'd taken in.
Showing posts with label carlos silva. Show all posts
Showing posts with label carlos silva. Show all posts
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Monday, May 31, 2010
Restaurant Revelry at the River
So happy I was invited
Give me a reason to get out of the city
~The National "Lemonworld"
A friend who works at Tarrant's gave me a reason to get out of the city today when he invited me to join him and the rest of the restaurant staff, not to mention part of Bistro 27's staff, for a cookout on Mobjack Bay.
Their tradition is to close Tarrant's for Memorial Day and spend it at the river and I was happy to be part of that.
When my friend came to pick me up, he spotted a book in my bag.
"You're bringing a book? You, the person who never met a stranger?" he mocked me.
I wasn't sure what to expect and it's a really good book (The Wild Vine) , but given a game plan of eat, drink, frolic, it did seem extraneous now that he mentioned it.
And frolic we did, with kayaks, canoes, floats and more beverages than a group of 100 should be able to consume.
Meats of all kinds were being cooked practically non-stop by Carlos, but then, who better than a Brazilian to do meat?
I started with a steak, but after a while I just did what the smart ones did and hung around the grill, snagging pre-cut pieces of whatever was fresh off the grill and put onto the platter.
It was a lot like the man meat dinner I attended a couple of years ago: course after course of endless meat.
Only the source animal, degree of doneness and seasonings changed.
My friend had been right about my social skills; I knew loads of people and met plenty more. In fact, my stock line of the day became, "Didn't expect to find me here, did you?"
One girl I knew greeted me with, "I'm a little tipsy already," but she loudly complimented my legs to the surrounding crowd, so I was fine with her loose lips.
Another familiar face was a former neighbor and blogging pioneer who reads my blog with a keen eye.
He particularly mentioned my response to a commenter with an attitude about my spending choices, here, seeing it for what it was: an explanation of the philosophy behind my blog.
It's satisfying to hear that there are people who read me and get me.
Like practically everyone else, we spent a fair amount of the afternoon in the water, which seemed unnaturally warm for May.
One guy, when offered the use of a kayak, declined by holding up his beer.
"Friends don't let friends drink and kayak," he proclaimed.
Unfortunately, it was walking that was his downfall and he later cut his foot on a mollusk (or so he said) and when he went to catch himself, cut his hand as well (same mollusk? I don't know).
Friends don't let friends drink and...move?
Later we ate watermelon and spit seeds, scored cookies and cannolis and listened to competing boomboxes.
Happily for me, I was nearest the one playing Daft Punk.
I gave my thumbs up to the guy who put it on and he asked, "Really, is there anyone who doesn't like Daft Punk?"
Sadly, I had to tell him about my friend Corey.
Some things are just beyond comprehension.
It was a day of good one-liners, like "Is that a seed on your ass?" topped only by "I've got corn pubes in my teeth."
Personally speaking, the highlight came after I aimed a super squirter at someone and missed.
The trio turned around to see who had such poor aim.
"Do I look like a super shot?" I shrugged.
Best line of the day directed at me: "With those bangs and those sunglasses, yea, I would have totally bought into you. Now, not so much."
Sigh.
I just need to stick to words.
Give me a reason to get out of the city
~The National "Lemonworld"
A friend who works at Tarrant's gave me a reason to get out of the city today when he invited me to join him and the rest of the restaurant staff, not to mention part of Bistro 27's staff, for a cookout on Mobjack Bay.
Their tradition is to close Tarrant's for Memorial Day and spend it at the river and I was happy to be part of that.
When my friend came to pick me up, he spotted a book in my bag.
"You're bringing a book? You, the person who never met a stranger?" he mocked me.
I wasn't sure what to expect and it's a really good book (The Wild Vine) , but given a game plan of eat, drink, frolic, it did seem extraneous now that he mentioned it.
And frolic we did, with kayaks, canoes, floats and more beverages than a group of 100 should be able to consume.
Meats of all kinds were being cooked practically non-stop by Carlos, but then, who better than a Brazilian to do meat?
I started with a steak, but after a while I just did what the smart ones did and hung around the grill, snagging pre-cut pieces of whatever was fresh off the grill and put onto the platter.
It was a lot like the man meat dinner I attended a couple of years ago: course after course of endless meat.
Only the source animal, degree of doneness and seasonings changed.
My friend had been right about my social skills; I knew loads of people and met plenty more. In fact, my stock line of the day became, "Didn't expect to find me here, did you?"
One girl I knew greeted me with, "I'm a little tipsy already," but she loudly complimented my legs to the surrounding crowd, so I was fine with her loose lips.
Another familiar face was a former neighbor and blogging pioneer who reads my blog with a keen eye.
He particularly mentioned my response to a commenter with an attitude about my spending choices, here, seeing it for what it was: an explanation of the philosophy behind my blog.
It's satisfying to hear that there are people who read me and get me.
Like practically everyone else, we spent a fair amount of the afternoon in the water, which seemed unnaturally warm for May.
One guy, when offered the use of a kayak, declined by holding up his beer.
"Friends don't let friends drink and kayak," he proclaimed.
Unfortunately, it was walking that was his downfall and he later cut his foot on a mollusk (or so he said) and when he went to catch himself, cut his hand as well (same mollusk? I don't know).
Friends don't let friends drink and...move?
Later we ate watermelon and spit seeds, scored cookies and cannolis and listened to competing boomboxes.
Happily for me, I was nearest the one playing Daft Punk.
I gave my thumbs up to the guy who put it on and he asked, "Really, is there anyone who doesn't like Daft Punk?"
Sadly, I had to tell him about my friend Corey.
Some things are just beyond comprehension.
It was a day of good one-liners, like "Is that a seed on your ass?" topped only by "I've got corn pubes in my teeth."
Personally speaking, the highlight came after I aimed a super squirter at someone and missed.
The trio turned around to see who had such poor aim.
"Do I look like a super shot?" I shrugged.
Best line of the day directed at me: "With those bangs and those sunglasses, yea, I would have totally bought into you. Now, not so much."
Sigh.
I just need to stick to words.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Hey, You! Come Watch!
Ah, what to do when a man standing in a doorway smoking calls out your name as you're crossing Broad Street? These are the dilemmas innocent women face as they try walking to a neighborhood eatery. Actually, it was Carlos at Bistro 27 standing at the kitchen door to the restaurant and beckoning me over. What fresh fun was this?
It seems the restaurant was closed for a private party (actually, a rehearsal dinner for 68) and he was suggesting that I spend the evening as a guest of the kitchen watching the action and enjoying the view from his vantage point. Hell yea, no one's ever invited me to get a first hand look at a busy restaurant on a weekend night so there was no way I was turning that down. Little did I realize what a whirlwind I was about to witness.
The guests were already in full cocktail mode, noshing on appetizers and mingling away when I took up residence in the back corner of the kitchen. A glass of Gavi di Gavi was immediately poured for me and Carlos handed me the Les Halles cookbook to prove why the tenderloin was siting out on trays (Anthony Bourdain insists meat be room temperature before hitting the grill).
I was introduced to various members of the crew and within minutes Lucia spread a towel on a shelf for me to sit on. Moments later, I was the recipient of mini crab cakes; I was liking this already. As I continued reading the expletive-filled book, one of the servers walked by and told me what a stellar book it was and the dishwasher asked if I spoke Spanish (I don't). I was already like part of the furniture.
Carlos reappeared with shrimp over his version of cocktail sauce which he calls Carlos' sauce. He told me that the recipe is top secret but that it involved mayonnaise. I didn't care what was in it; it was delicious so I ate it and got a wine refill. I was enjoying how warm it was in my little corner spot, but then, I get cold at the drop of a hat. Others appeared to be sweating.
Bruschetta came next and another person asked me if I spoke Spanish. The bustle in the kitchen was increasing madly by this point, with trays and trays of house made beef ravioli being preppped and cooked. It was served under a sauce rosa and melted in my mouth. The irony of me reading a book about the madness of a restaurant kitchen as I sat in a crazy restaurant kitchen was not lost on me.
About this time, one of the servers asked if it was possible to get chicken nuggets and fries for the antsy four year old in attendance, so the fryer was turned on and breading prepared for the chicken. Right about then, my glass began to be refilled with the Argentinian Cabernet Sauvignon the chef was drinking.
Waiting in line for the ladies' room, the woman behind me introduced herself and asked if I was from the bride or groom's side. I introduced myself and explained that I was merely the guest of the chef (I started to say paramour just to spice things up, but decided against it). Turns out she was the stepmother of the bride, but gave me an enthusiastic welcome nonetheless and told me to drink up.
When it came time to cook the beef, chicken and salmon for the entrees, I moved to the bar (the party had moved to tables on the other side) to get out of the way. Shortly thereafter, the mayor and a companion came in and sat down at one of the bar tables; apparently he's a regular at 27. He certainly seemed to know all the cops who walked by on their way toward Club Rendezvous.
My beef tenderloin arrived and it was beautifully rare inside a crispy outside. It was during my enjoyment of it that the toasts began on the other side and, good god, I've never heard so many people pontificate about an impending marriage in my life; I think it was close to ten people who spoke about what incredible people these two lovebirds were.
It was during the endless toasting that the father of the bride came over to the bar ans started snapping his fingers at the staff to tell them to quiet down. Apparently taking out the champagne glasses and popping corks was preventing him from hearing the cliched thoughts of his friends and family. The staff did their best to quietly prepare 68 glasses of bubbly for the guests and I moved back into the kitchen where the people were not pompous asses.
One of the girls wiping the counters asked me my age (and paid me a compliment) so I asked her hers (19; how's that for putting me in my place?). Then she asked if I spoke Spanish. "Not any?" she lamented. Gracias was the best I could do and that was clearly disappointing her.
Once dessert was served, Carlos suggested we move back to the bar to further our conversation. Randy, his new guy, asked me what was happening tonight now that he was off the clock. I asked him why he thought I'd know and it turned out that since he'd seen me at the Against Me! show that that meant I knew how to party. I suggested the Boy-lesque show at Gallery 5, which had been my intended destination before I got sucked into the vortex of a restaurant kitchen on a busy night.
Just as Carlos and I were getting into a juicy discussion of girl vs. boy parts, a blogger girl I know showed up with a friend and they joined our group. It turned into a lively discussion of prudishness ("I don't want to see other people take off their clothes when I'm with a friend.") and experimental eating ("If I know I like chicken and beef, why would I want to try things I don't know I'd like?").
Of course, you can't say things like that to Carlos; he and I had just been discussing beef tongue tacos, of which we're both very fond. They were repulsed at his suggestions of soft-shelled crabs, spiders and sweetbreads. He tried to convince them that they should be braver in trying new foods. "You only have one life. You have to eat it."
Out of the mouth of a Brazilian to my ears. I'm eating as fast as I can.
It seems the restaurant was closed for a private party (actually, a rehearsal dinner for 68) and he was suggesting that I spend the evening as a guest of the kitchen watching the action and enjoying the view from his vantage point. Hell yea, no one's ever invited me to get a first hand look at a busy restaurant on a weekend night so there was no way I was turning that down. Little did I realize what a whirlwind I was about to witness.
The guests were already in full cocktail mode, noshing on appetizers and mingling away when I took up residence in the back corner of the kitchen. A glass of Gavi di Gavi was immediately poured for me and Carlos handed me the Les Halles cookbook to prove why the tenderloin was siting out on trays (Anthony Bourdain insists meat be room temperature before hitting the grill).
I was introduced to various members of the crew and within minutes Lucia spread a towel on a shelf for me to sit on. Moments later, I was the recipient of mini crab cakes; I was liking this already. As I continued reading the expletive-filled book, one of the servers walked by and told me what a stellar book it was and the dishwasher asked if I spoke Spanish (I don't). I was already like part of the furniture.
Carlos reappeared with shrimp over his version of cocktail sauce which he calls Carlos' sauce. He told me that the recipe is top secret but that it involved mayonnaise. I didn't care what was in it; it was delicious so I ate it and got a wine refill. I was enjoying how warm it was in my little corner spot, but then, I get cold at the drop of a hat. Others appeared to be sweating.
Bruschetta came next and another person asked me if I spoke Spanish. The bustle in the kitchen was increasing madly by this point, with trays and trays of house made beef ravioli being preppped and cooked. It was served under a sauce rosa and melted in my mouth. The irony of me reading a book about the madness of a restaurant kitchen as I sat in a crazy restaurant kitchen was not lost on me.
About this time, one of the servers asked if it was possible to get chicken nuggets and fries for the antsy four year old in attendance, so the fryer was turned on and breading prepared for the chicken. Right about then, my glass began to be refilled with the Argentinian Cabernet Sauvignon the chef was drinking.
Waiting in line for the ladies' room, the woman behind me introduced herself and asked if I was from the bride or groom's side. I introduced myself and explained that I was merely the guest of the chef (I started to say paramour just to spice things up, but decided against it). Turns out she was the stepmother of the bride, but gave me an enthusiastic welcome nonetheless and told me to drink up.
When it came time to cook the beef, chicken and salmon for the entrees, I moved to the bar (the party had moved to tables on the other side) to get out of the way. Shortly thereafter, the mayor and a companion came in and sat down at one of the bar tables; apparently he's a regular at 27. He certainly seemed to know all the cops who walked by on their way toward Club Rendezvous.
My beef tenderloin arrived and it was beautifully rare inside a crispy outside. It was during my enjoyment of it that the toasts began on the other side and, good god, I've never heard so many people pontificate about an impending marriage in my life; I think it was close to ten people who spoke about what incredible people these two lovebirds were.
It was during the endless toasting that the father of the bride came over to the bar ans started snapping his fingers at the staff to tell them to quiet down. Apparently taking out the champagne glasses and popping corks was preventing him from hearing the cliched thoughts of his friends and family. The staff did their best to quietly prepare 68 glasses of bubbly for the guests and I moved back into the kitchen where the people were not pompous asses.
One of the girls wiping the counters asked me my age (and paid me a compliment) so I asked her hers (19; how's that for putting me in my place?). Then she asked if I spoke Spanish. "Not any?" she lamented. Gracias was the best I could do and that was clearly disappointing her.
Once dessert was served, Carlos suggested we move back to the bar to further our conversation. Randy, his new guy, asked me what was happening tonight now that he was off the clock. I asked him why he thought I'd know and it turned out that since he'd seen me at the Against Me! show that that meant I knew how to party. I suggested the Boy-lesque show at Gallery 5, which had been my intended destination before I got sucked into the vortex of a restaurant kitchen on a busy night.
Just as Carlos and I were getting into a juicy discussion of girl vs. boy parts, a blogger girl I know showed up with a friend and they joined our group. It turned into a lively discussion of prudishness ("I don't want to see other people take off their clothes when I'm with a friend.") and experimental eating ("If I know I like chicken and beef, why would I want to try things I don't know I'd like?").
Of course, you can't say things like that to Carlos; he and I had just been discussing beef tongue tacos, of which we're both very fond. They were repulsed at his suggestions of soft-shelled crabs, spiders and sweetbreads. He tried to convince them that they should be braver in trying new foods. "You only have one life. You have to eat it."
Out of the mouth of a Brazilian to my ears. I'm eating as fast as I can.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Wine! It's What's for Lunch
I had my first experience with the three-martini lunch today, except that there were no martinis involved.
It started innocently enough with lunch plans to meet a girlfriend at Bistro 27.
On the walk over, I ran into my Whiskey Wednesday buddy (who, sadly, no longer resides in J-Ward) but it provided plenty of catch-up talk about Against Me! and good Mexican in Carytown.
It's weird how we run into each other as much, if not more, than when we lived a block and a half apart.
So, on to the Bistro 27 experience.
First of all, let me state for the record that Carlos is one of my favorite chef friends in all of RVA.
He always produces amazing food and he always makes time for stellar conversation and insider insight; that he's devastatingly handsome doesn't hurt, either.
Because of my whiskey friend delay, my perennially tardy friend was already in place at the bar when I arrived, a highly unusual circumstance, since she's known for her lack of punctuality.
The server was just pouring her glass of vino verde when I arrived.
Since we were the only bar customers, I made it easy for her and just ordered the same.
No one should have to work too hard on a Thursday afternoon this beautiful.
Before we could even order, Carlos presented us with a gigantic bowl of mussels in a tomato/herb broth with fresh-out-of-the-oven sundried tomato focaccia.
Perhaps he thought we needed something to wash down with our vino verde, but whatever the reason for his generosity, they were scrumptious.
For lunch I had the Gorgonzola chicken salad and friend had the Mediterranean wrap (enormous, btw) and sweet potato fries.
We were smart to lay down a base because Carlos was happy to have, in his words, "two beautiful women at my bar," and things quickly devolved from lunch to an afternoon wine party, complete with wine reps dropping by and assorted other vendors coming in, joining in and moving on.
Like any good party, a rotating guest list makes for the best possible conversational possibilities.
Carlos had a brilliant idea for restaurant recycling, an especially critical issue since the city doesn't pick up commercial recycling.
His proposal was to work out an arrangement to use a couple of the city recycling trucks at off times once a week to collect restaurant recyclables, which would then be taken to one of the stations that process them.
Any proceeds from the abundance of glass and cardboard donated would go directly to the Central Virginia Food Bank.
As it is, many restaurateurs don't recycle because of the hassle of taking it to a site, so it sounds like a win/win situation (Portland or San Fran-like, even).
Thoughts from the peanut gallery?
My friend is dating someone, but tonight she has a date with someone else entirely, so we spent a fair amount of time discussing the male/female dynamic and how it plays out.
Carlos and I shared tales of marriage and our preference for being in a committed relationship rather than loose in the dating world.
Of course, there was a fair amount of finger-pointing at the opposite sex for the foibles that tangle us up in less-than-satisfactory relationships, but all in good fun.
Also on the table were the changes in 27's menu for the upcoming warm weather season. I was ecstatic to hear that he'll be adding the Bobo de Camarae, drooled over here, to his summer menu and, best of all, in an appetizer portion. Hallelujah!
This dish must be experienced and now anyone will have that opportunity to experience a true Brazilian dish with its African influences.
He told us about other Brazilian additions for the summer, but I'll leave you to discover them on your own.
I love that these dishes he usually only makes for his family are now available to the non-Brazilian masses (read: me).
Lest you think the abundance of wine limited us to only sex and restaurant talk, one of the most satisfying discussions of the afternoon was about the loss of childhood and the delay of the maturation process.
Not one of us could make an argument for the majority today having their act together by age 30.
How is it we have 12-year olds who are going on 25 and 28-year olds still trying to figure out life's basic requirements?
We didn't have an answer.
If I've made 27 sound like a great neighborhood joint where you'd want to hang out, it's because it is.
If you don't believe me, check out their Ste. Michelles Estates wine dinner next Thursday.
The last wine dinner I went to there was also five course (and the courses are generous, so pace yourself), presented by Bodegas Carrau (I'm still coveting my last bottle of the Tannat for a very special occasion) and this one is an even better deal.
It's only $55 and that's all-inclusive.
You will be full, you will be loopy and you will take food home. Just sayin'.
But I digress.
After a nearly four hour lunch, it occurred to my friend that she had a date to prepare for and, while my plans don't involve a date tonight, they do involve a music-loving friend, dinner, multiple bands and a meet-up with a favorite girlfriend afterwards.
Time to get cleaned up and exit the Ward for a while.
Should you care to check back, full report to come.
It started innocently enough with lunch plans to meet a girlfriend at Bistro 27.
On the walk over, I ran into my Whiskey Wednesday buddy (who, sadly, no longer resides in J-Ward) but it provided plenty of catch-up talk about Against Me! and good Mexican in Carytown.
It's weird how we run into each other as much, if not more, than when we lived a block and a half apart.
So, on to the Bistro 27 experience.
First of all, let me state for the record that Carlos is one of my favorite chef friends in all of RVA.
He always produces amazing food and he always makes time for stellar conversation and insider insight; that he's devastatingly handsome doesn't hurt, either.
Because of my whiskey friend delay, my perennially tardy friend was already in place at the bar when I arrived, a highly unusual circumstance, since she's known for her lack of punctuality.
The server was just pouring her glass of vino verde when I arrived.
Since we were the only bar customers, I made it easy for her and just ordered the same.
No one should have to work too hard on a Thursday afternoon this beautiful.
Before we could even order, Carlos presented us with a gigantic bowl of mussels in a tomato/herb broth with fresh-out-of-the-oven sundried tomato focaccia.
Perhaps he thought we needed something to wash down with our vino verde, but whatever the reason for his generosity, they were scrumptious.
For lunch I had the Gorgonzola chicken salad and friend had the Mediterranean wrap (enormous, btw) and sweet potato fries.
We were smart to lay down a base because Carlos was happy to have, in his words, "two beautiful women at my bar," and things quickly devolved from lunch to an afternoon wine party, complete with wine reps dropping by and assorted other vendors coming in, joining in and moving on.
Like any good party, a rotating guest list makes for the best possible conversational possibilities.
Carlos had a brilliant idea for restaurant recycling, an especially critical issue since the city doesn't pick up commercial recycling.
His proposal was to work out an arrangement to use a couple of the city recycling trucks at off times once a week to collect restaurant recyclables, which would then be taken to one of the stations that process them.
Any proceeds from the abundance of glass and cardboard donated would go directly to the Central Virginia Food Bank.
As it is, many restaurateurs don't recycle because of the hassle of taking it to a site, so it sounds like a win/win situation (Portland or San Fran-like, even).
Thoughts from the peanut gallery?
My friend is dating someone, but tonight she has a date with someone else entirely, so we spent a fair amount of time discussing the male/female dynamic and how it plays out.
Carlos and I shared tales of marriage and our preference for being in a committed relationship rather than loose in the dating world.
Of course, there was a fair amount of finger-pointing at the opposite sex for the foibles that tangle us up in less-than-satisfactory relationships, but all in good fun.
Also on the table were the changes in 27's menu for the upcoming warm weather season. I was ecstatic to hear that he'll be adding the Bobo de Camarae, drooled over here, to his summer menu and, best of all, in an appetizer portion. Hallelujah!
This dish must be experienced and now anyone will have that opportunity to experience a true Brazilian dish with its African influences.
He told us about other Brazilian additions for the summer, but I'll leave you to discover them on your own.
I love that these dishes he usually only makes for his family are now available to the non-Brazilian masses (read: me).
Lest you think the abundance of wine limited us to only sex and restaurant talk, one of the most satisfying discussions of the afternoon was about the loss of childhood and the delay of the maturation process.
Not one of us could make an argument for the majority today having their act together by age 30.
How is it we have 12-year olds who are going on 25 and 28-year olds still trying to figure out life's basic requirements?
We didn't have an answer.
If I've made 27 sound like a great neighborhood joint where you'd want to hang out, it's because it is.
If you don't believe me, check out their Ste. Michelles Estates wine dinner next Thursday.
The last wine dinner I went to there was also five course (and the courses are generous, so pace yourself), presented by Bodegas Carrau (I'm still coveting my last bottle of the Tannat for a very special occasion) and this one is an even better deal.
It's only $55 and that's all-inclusive.
You will be full, you will be loopy and you will take food home. Just sayin'.
But I digress.
After a nearly four hour lunch, it occurred to my friend that she had a date to prepare for and, while my plans don't involve a date tonight, they do involve a music-loving friend, dinner, multiple bands and a meet-up with a favorite girlfriend afterwards.
Time to get cleaned up and exit the Ward for a while.
Should you care to check back, full report to come.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Happy 4th Birthday, Bistro 27
My evening got off to an auspicious start when a favorite friend showed up at my house with a bottle of Roderer Estate L'Ermitage Brut 2000. It was amazingly creamy, with tiny little bubbles and a long, crisp finish; in other words, heaven for bubble lovers like her and me and, frankly, we left not a drop. While we sipped our bubbles, she was good enough to do some blog and character analysis for me; I always enjoy her interpretation of life and love because it's so different than mine.
The plan was to meet a friend of hers at Mama Zu's for dinner, but once we arrived, the swelling crush of humanity waiting for tables was overwhelming and F.F. lost all interest in being part of that madness. I've admitted before that Mama Zu's is not a personal favorite, so I had no qualms about finding another destination, although my friend had had enough and decided to head home.
I knew this week was the fourth anniversary for Bistro 27, one of my longest running J-Ward neighborhood hangouts, so I decided to go celebrate with them. And by celebrate, I mean eat obscene amounts of food and wine while engaging in assorted restaurant talk with some delightful bar sitters out for their bi-weekly date night.
My meal consisted of calamari with squid ink over polenta, an earthy and soul-satisfying sausage and potato soup, and a scallop and crab ravioli in tomato cream sauce. I should not have been able to walk out of there after so much excellent food; Carlos' advice was to eat light tomorrow to compensate. My wine of choice for the duration was the 2007 Almira Los Dos Grenache and Syrah and despite being full to the gills, I had a chocolate mousse with fresh berries to finish.
My fellow bar sitters engaged me in conversation to augment their city dining knowledge. It seems they go out every other week to an independent city restaurant and wanted my thoughts on where they'd been and where I'd recommend for future outings. They've been city diners, despite being suburban residents for years, so our discussion included such blasts from the past as Chetti's, Moondance and Bird in Hand, as well as some of their more recent outings, like Edo's Squid, Popkin's and Gibson's. I love the date night tradition (maybe I'll even eventually want to have one myself again) and their willingness to experiment with new places. Wouldn't it be a better restaurant world if more people followed their lead and enjoyed the restaurant bounty our little city has to offer instead of doing the safe, easy thing when it comes to dining out?
Me, I already knew what a gem Bistro 27 is, but a delicious little birthday celebration meal like I had tonight is still an excellent reminder of the stellar food that is to be found in rva...if you get out to enjoy it. As one of my new suburban friends asked, "Do you ever eat at home?"
Why would I with all Richmond has to offer?
The plan was to meet a friend of hers at Mama Zu's for dinner, but once we arrived, the swelling crush of humanity waiting for tables was overwhelming and F.F. lost all interest in being part of that madness. I've admitted before that Mama Zu's is not a personal favorite, so I had no qualms about finding another destination, although my friend had had enough and decided to head home.
I knew this week was the fourth anniversary for Bistro 27, one of my longest running J-Ward neighborhood hangouts, so I decided to go celebrate with them. And by celebrate, I mean eat obscene amounts of food and wine while engaging in assorted restaurant talk with some delightful bar sitters out for their bi-weekly date night.
My meal consisted of calamari with squid ink over polenta, an earthy and soul-satisfying sausage and potato soup, and a scallop and crab ravioli in tomato cream sauce. I should not have been able to walk out of there after so much excellent food; Carlos' advice was to eat light tomorrow to compensate. My wine of choice for the duration was the 2007 Almira Los Dos Grenache and Syrah and despite being full to the gills, I had a chocolate mousse with fresh berries to finish.
My fellow bar sitters engaged me in conversation to augment their city dining knowledge. It seems they go out every other week to an independent city restaurant and wanted my thoughts on where they'd been and where I'd recommend for future outings. They've been city diners, despite being suburban residents for years, so our discussion included such blasts from the past as Chetti's, Moondance and Bird in Hand, as well as some of their more recent outings, like Edo's Squid, Popkin's and Gibson's. I love the date night tradition (maybe I'll even eventually want to have one myself again) and their willingness to experiment with new places. Wouldn't it be a better restaurant world if more people followed their lead and enjoyed the restaurant bounty our little city has to offer instead of doing the safe, easy thing when it comes to dining out?
Me, I already knew what a gem Bistro 27 is, but a delicious little birthday celebration meal like I had tonight is still an excellent reminder of the stellar food that is to be found in rva...if you get out to enjoy it. As one of my new suburban friends asked, "Do you ever eat at home?"
Why would I with all Richmond has to offer?
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