The rum flowed like a man-made waterfall at a cheesy Caribbean resort.
Arriving at Acacia for the second tiki takeover, Friend and I were greeted by a guy angry enough at his skateboard to pick it up, yell directly at it and then throw it on the ground in punishment.
"I arranged that just so people would see it and want to duck into the nearest bat," said tiki mastermind T, dressed festively in a flowered Hawaiian shirt and lei. You have to appreciate a man who not only slings a fine drink but has a sense of humor.
Having learned a few lessons from last year, we'd made sure to arrive right at 10:00 in hopes of beating the worst of the crush of humanity.
I'll concede that Acacia provided far more room for everyone overall, but the drink lines, at least initially, were just as long.
After being introduced to a chef recently returned from a decade in Italy, I joined one of the snake-like queues to procure a Scorpion Bowl for my date and me.
There were far more options on the tiki menu this year than last, although I missed how last year they had listed the year (or at least the decade) the drink had been created and become popular and in some cases, even where.
Let's face it, inquiring drinking minds want to know.
While in line, I ran into loads of people I knew, some curious how I knew the others (never underestimate the neighborhood connection). Make new friends, but keep the old.
Finally at the front, I watched as Danny (nattily dressed in a shirt with the sleeves torn off beach bum-style) combined Nicaraguan rum, brandy, orange lemon and orgeat in a hollowed out pineapple, topping it with fresh hibiscus, marigolds and miniature daisies.
And most importantly, a paper umbrella and two straws.
As I moved back through the crowd, person after person stopped me to find out what I had in my hot little hands.
Friend and I attacked the drink like Lady and the Tramp had their bowl of spaghetti, each doing our part to work it down as people stopped by to chat with us.
Like many people, I had shown up in tiki attire, which for me means a tropical blue Hawaiian-looking sundress and at one point, a girl grabbed my arm and began raving about my dress.
Let's be clear, this is a dress I ordered out of a catalog in 1995 and drag out every summer once or twice because it's still pretty, but not rave-worthy.
Next thing I know, she grabs her husband and pulls him in to check out my dress and tell me how much he likes it, too. For all I know they were crazy swingers looking for an entry point.
While quite a few in the crowd had donned tiki togs, I thought it a shame that Acacia was noticeably absent any of the decorative touches that made last year's tiki takeover so atmospheric. No blow up palm trees, no coconut heads, no fishing nets. No bubble machine, no crabs nor monkeys.
They were all missed, as was last year's DJ Puma spinning tiki-appropriate music.
Where Acacia excelled was in having made the tiki takeover a ticketed event with a tropical buffet included as part of the ticket.
Chef Dale Reitzer providing endless eats? Oh, hells yes.
The voodoo goat alone was worth the price of admission, long cooked, falling off the bone and redolent of allspice. The jerk chicken was tender, flavorful and addictive. More than one person told me they couldn't leave the fried plantains alone. A well-known chef was popping conch fritters and fried okra in his mouth like popcorn.
My second drink, hard won after an even longer wait than the first time, was the Ancient Mariner with aged Demerare and dark Jamaican rums blended with citrus and (again) allspice while my pal went with a Hurricane.
I moved around the room discussing the movie "Chef" with people who'd come from seeing it, got introduced to a Farmville bar manager who regaled me with anecdotes about sore privates and medicated cornstarch (and was positive I'd been in his bar drinking red wine) and hearing from a favorite server that she's moving to New Orleans in July (may as well jump head first into the heat and humidity, no?).
Before long it was clear that some people were going for the sprint and not the marathon, a rookie mistake if you ask me. A pro knows a four-hour tiki takeover requires pacing or you'll never make it to the end.
As people with spinning eyes and slurring speech began leaving, friend and I added glasses of water to our intake and kept moving around to let different people entertain us, like a guy in pink shorts so, um, fitted that my friend couldn't help but stare. He turned out to be friendly, sharing the source of the shorts and even showing us the elastic waistband under his stylish belt.
After another pass at the voodoo goat, we easily got our final drinks of the evening, mine a Painkiller of Navy rum, pineapple, orange and coconut (and touted as the drink of the British Virgin Islands) and hers an Ankle Breaker, a deep ruby beauty of three rums and cherry brandy.
It would have been at this point that we most missed a DJ since dancing would have been just the thing to expend some of that sugar energy we'd been consuming all night. But, alas, no.
Still, it had been a stellar evening out with a favorite girlfriend who doesn't get out much these days, and all the more unique because we'd spent it drinking cocktails, not our usual M.O.
But we also got our traditional late night gab session when I drove her home and we sat in the car for almost an hour talking about everyone, ourselves and life in general, windows down to the warm night air.
I especially loved it when she told me, "You're so good about grabbing the life that you want."
Fortunately, once a year that life comes with a little paper umbrella. And it is good, very good.
Showing posts with label dale reitzer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dale reitzer. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
Monday, February 11, 2013
Talk About the Passion
You'd be surprised how nicely the restaurant crowd cleans up.
This year's Elbys were wisely held at the VMFA after last year's inaugural event all but exploded out of the Virginia Historical Society.
Richmond Magazine's award ceremony honors the local restaurant scene with food, bevvies and awards for the nine best and the top culinary student of the year.
Walking in to the ceremony past a white stretch limo, I saw familiar faces from my favorite and less favorite restaurants.
That's one great thing about this event, seeing so many restaurant people all in the same place.
It would take me weeks to see so many of these people if I had to go restaurant to restaurant to do it, which I usually do.
Once in the Cheek Theater, there were even more people I knew, but before mingling, I grabbed a seat in the front of the middle section so I'd have a good view.
Roosevelt bartender T. strolled by on the way to sitting with his posse, observed my outstretched legs and noted drolly, "Center stage. Of course."
Fact is, a single can always find a good seat even when things are getting full.
I was pleased to run into some food-loving friends whose relationship with me began over pork belly back in June 2010, before pork belly was as ubiquitous on local menus as facial hair at a Gallery 5 show.
Our hosts for the evening were Richmond Magazine's food editor (saying she'd just had skate for teh first time the other night!) and the Modern Gentleman, Jason Tesauro.
Jason began with mock self-deprecation, noting, "I'm Jason Tesauro. If you don't know me, you can Google me. Go ahead, I'll wait."
He immediately quoted Comfort/Pasture's Jason Alley, whose pronouncement, "Just being here is really f*cking cool," was a sentiment I heard repeated throughout the evening.
After recognizing the culinary student of the year, we moved on to the meat of the matter.
Fine dining was first and Lemaire took the award.
After thanking the staff, Chef Walter Bundy said, "We won last year, so we didn't expect to win again. And we're trying not to be so fine dining," to much laughter.
For upscale casual, defined as great food where you can wear jeans, Stella's took the prize, with the diminutive Stella herself saying a few words about being supported so well over the years.
Kuba Kuba won for neighborhood restaurant, notable because the always casual Manny wore a suit to accept and say, "I'd like to thank Kevin Walter, the best dishwasher anyone could have."
By now it was apparent that every time a winner was announced, a classic '80s song was played.
Eurythmics "Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)," Talking Heads "Once in a Lifetime," Blondie "Rapture."
If you won, you walked to the stage to music from the decade whose music is more loved now than then.
Deco won for new restaurant and owner Giuseppe was on and gone, thanking everyone who supported the restaurant and his family before hurrying off.
When the Roosevelt's bartender T. won for best cocktail program, cheers and applause abounded for the genial gentleman with the twinkle in his eye.
Onstage, his voice quavered a bit at first, but I knew he was ready.
I'd seen him on the way in and asked if he had a speech ready just in case and he'd replied in the affirmative.
Better not to risk it, just in case you get lucky.
The excellence in service award went to Wendy at Bistro Bobette, about whom Jason said, "She's got the polish in place and the edge. She's got a New York accent and a French husband."
She looked beautifully polished in her fitted dress and even remembered to thank that husband.
Reading the nominees for rising culinary star, Jason read the Berkely's Carly's name and said, "Julia said Carly is easily the most potty-mouthed chef in Richmond. And that's coming from Julia Battaligni!"
It was funny because the owner of Secco can be a very literate potty mouth herself.
When they called Belmont Food Shop's Mike as the rising winner, a woman clearly not Mike rose and made her way to the stage.
Explaining that, "Mike isn't here, he's cooking at the restaurant and if you know him it won't surprise you that he called me an hour ago to ask me to go for him," she was back in her seat in a flash.
To be fair, the man's got a restaurant that seats, what, 20? There's not a lot of wiggle room when it comes to making his weekly numbers.
Chef of the year went to Dale of Acacia who seemed surprised. "I didn't think this would happen again. I just want to be a rising culinary star. I'm an old fashioned guy. I don't tweet or Facebook, but I do care about what I do."
When restaurateur of the year was announced as Kendra of Ipanema/Garnett's/Roosevelt and "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic" began playing, Jason observed, "We should be playing her punk rock tracks."
Wouldn't that have been fitting?
The former punk rocker waitress' speech was heartfelt and humorous.
Saying, "When I started Ipanema in 1998, I thought as long as I didn't snort cocaine or sleep with my wait staff, I'd do okay."
Much knowing laughter.
She mentioned how supportive Johnny Giavos and Manny Mendez had been in answering her questions in the beginning, imploring the industry audience to "cut the new kids some slack."
Generously, she did shout-outs to her longtime friend and Ipanema manager, her crack Garnett's staff and Chef Lee at the Roosevelt for agreeing to be her partner.
More laughter followed when she said she'd been told that she'd succeed in the business because of her nice breasts and great attitude.
"And thanks to my husband John. For those of you who know me, my life has gotten 100% better since I met him."
Who knows, maybe he married her for the same reasons her restaurants were going to succeed (see above).
After the white-knuckling part of the evening was past, we moved upstairs to the marble hall to eat, drink and be merry.
It's always a blast to see so many people I usually see spread out, but as I made my way around the room, certain feelings kept being repeated.
Everyone is stoked to be part of the wave of Richmond restaurants as it builds.
Many people raved about the sense of community in the room.
The consensus is that our food scene is exploding and that's good for everyone.
The marble hall was packed with 400 guests (so I was told by a VMFA staffer), making the normally-chilly room perfectly comfortable for me and, by default, quite warm for most.
It wasn't long before many of the women in the impossibly high heels removed them and carried them rather than suffer any longer.
As I walked around, searching out wine (Mulderbosch Rose), food (rabbit meatball over mashed parsnips, black bean cake with salsa verde, pork over collards) made by the culinary students and familiar faces, there was a real sense of camaraderie in the room.
Rapphannock River Oyster company was there with Olde Salts and Rapphannocks for the taking (I took many).
I saw Merroir's chef, Pete, and we chatted about my devotion to his riverside tasting room.
Olli was there with charcuterie and, after tasting all eight varieties, I'd have to say my favorite was the Napoli.
Maybe it was the Sangiovese in it.
As I made another pass around the room, a guy called me over to compliment my tights, not the first time tonight that I'd heard something along those lines, before introducing me to his blogger girlfriend.
First wine ran out, then beer and people were reduced to working off their existing buzz.
Music came courtesy of my neighborhood record store, Steady Sounds, and DJ Marty eventually got restaurant people dancing up a storm over by the 20th century galleries.
Likely Andy Warhol would have approved.
And probably agreed that just being there was f*cking cool.
This year's Elbys were wisely held at the VMFA after last year's inaugural event all but exploded out of the Virginia Historical Society.
Richmond Magazine's award ceremony honors the local restaurant scene with food, bevvies and awards for the nine best and the top culinary student of the year.
Walking in to the ceremony past a white stretch limo, I saw familiar faces from my favorite and less favorite restaurants.
That's one great thing about this event, seeing so many restaurant people all in the same place.
It would take me weeks to see so many of these people if I had to go restaurant to restaurant to do it, which I usually do.
Once in the Cheek Theater, there were even more people I knew, but before mingling, I grabbed a seat in the front of the middle section so I'd have a good view.
Roosevelt bartender T. strolled by on the way to sitting with his posse, observed my outstretched legs and noted drolly, "Center stage. Of course."
Fact is, a single can always find a good seat even when things are getting full.
I was pleased to run into some food-loving friends whose relationship with me began over pork belly back in June 2010, before pork belly was as ubiquitous on local menus as facial hair at a Gallery 5 show.
Our hosts for the evening were Richmond Magazine's food editor (saying she'd just had skate for teh first time the other night!) and the Modern Gentleman, Jason Tesauro.
Jason began with mock self-deprecation, noting, "I'm Jason Tesauro. If you don't know me, you can Google me. Go ahead, I'll wait."
He immediately quoted Comfort/Pasture's Jason Alley, whose pronouncement, "Just being here is really f*cking cool," was a sentiment I heard repeated throughout the evening.
After recognizing the culinary student of the year, we moved on to the meat of the matter.
Fine dining was first and Lemaire took the award.
After thanking the staff, Chef Walter Bundy said, "We won last year, so we didn't expect to win again. And we're trying not to be so fine dining," to much laughter.
For upscale casual, defined as great food where you can wear jeans, Stella's took the prize, with the diminutive Stella herself saying a few words about being supported so well over the years.
Kuba Kuba won for neighborhood restaurant, notable because the always casual Manny wore a suit to accept and say, "I'd like to thank Kevin Walter, the best dishwasher anyone could have."
By now it was apparent that every time a winner was announced, a classic '80s song was played.
Eurythmics "Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)," Talking Heads "Once in a Lifetime," Blondie "Rapture."
If you won, you walked to the stage to music from the decade whose music is more loved now than then.
Deco won for new restaurant and owner Giuseppe was on and gone, thanking everyone who supported the restaurant and his family before hurrying off.
When the Roosevelt's bartender T. won for best cocktail program, cheers and applause abounded for the genial gentleman with the twinkle in his eye.
Onstage, his voice quavered a bit at first, but I knew he was ready.
I'd seen him on the way in and asked if he had a speech ready just in case and he'd replied in the affirmative.
Better not to risk it, just in case you get lucky.
The excellence in service award went to Wendy at Bistro Bobette, about whom Jason said, "She's got the polish in place and the edge. She's got a New York accent and a French husband."
She looked beautifully polished in her fitted dress and even remembered to thank that husband.
Reading the nominees for rising culinary star, Jason read the Berkely's Carly's name and said, "Julia said Carly is easily the most potty-mouthed chef in Richmond. And that's coming from Julia Battaligni!"
It was funny because the owner of Secco can be a very literate potty mouth herself.
When they called Belmont Food Shop's Mike as the rising winner, a woman clearly not Mike rose and made her way to the stage.
Explaining that, "Mike isn't here, he's cooking at the restaurant and if you know him it won't surprise you that he called me an hour ago to ask me to go for him," she was back in her seat in a flash.
To be fair, the man's got a restaurant that seats, what, 20? There's not a lot of wiggle room when it comes to making his weekly numbers.
Chef of the year went to Dale of Acacia who seemed surprised. "I didn't think this would happen again. I just want to be a rising culinary star. I'm an old fashioned guy. I don't tweet or Facebook, but I do care about what I do."
When restaurateur of the year was announced as Kendra of Ipanema/Garnett's/Roosevelt and "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic" began playing, Jason observed, "We should be playing her punk rock tracks."
Wouldn't that have been fitting?
The former punk rocker waitress' speech was heartfelt and humorous.
Saying, "When I started Ipanema in 1998, I thought as long as I didn't snort cocaine or sleep with my wait staff, I'd do okay."
Much knowing laughter.
She mentioned how supportive Johnny Giavos and Manny Mendez had been in answering her questions in the beginning, imploring the industry audience to "cut the new kids some slack."
Generously, she did shout-outs to her longtime friend and Ipanema manager, her crack Garnett's staff and Chef Lee at the Roosevelt for agreeing to be her partner.
More laughter followed when she said she'd been told that she'd succeed in the business because of her nice breasts and great attitude.
"And thanks to my husband John. For those of you who know me, my life has gotten 100% better since I met him."
Who knows, maybe he married her for the same reasons her restaurants were going to succeed (see above).
After the white-knuckling part of the evening was past, we moved upstairs to the marble hall to eat, drink and be merry.
It's always a blast to see so many people I usually see spread out, but as I made my way around the room, certain feelings kept being repeated.
Everyone is stoked to be part of the wave of Richmond restaurants as it builds.
Many people raved about the sense of community in the room.
The consensus is that our food scene is exploding and that's good for everyone.
The marble hall was packed with 400 guests (so I was told by a VMFA staffer), making the normally-chilly room perfectly comfortable for me and, by default, quite warm for most.
It wasn't long before many of the women in the impossibly high heels removed them and carried them rather than suffer any longer.
As I walked around, searching out wine (Mulderbosch Rose), food (rabbit meatball over mashed parsnips, black bean cake with salsa verde, pork over collards) made by the culinary students and familiar faces, there was a real sense of camaraderie in the room.
Rapphannock River Oyster company was there with Olde Salts and Rapphannocks for the taking (I took many).
I saw Merroir's chef, Pete, and we chatted about my devotion to his riverside tasting room.
Olli was there with charcuterie and, after tasting all eight varieties, I'd have to say my favorite was the Napoli.
Maybe it was the Sangiovese in it.
As I made another pass around the room, a guy called me over to compliment my tights, not the first time tonight that I'd heard something along those lines, before introducing me to his blogger girlfriend.
First wine ran out, then beer and people were reduced to working off their existing buzz.
Music came courtesy of my neighborhood record store, Steady Sounds, and DJ Marty eventually got restaurant people dancing up a storm over by the 20th century galleries.
Likely Andy Warhol would have approved.
And probably agreed that just being there was f*cking cool.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Acacia and Whiskey Wednesday
I over-scheduled myself tonight, but it was completely inadvertent. I had a ticket for the Mellon lecture at VMFA (From Reason to Revolution), I was invited to a cocktail party, I had plans to meet a friend for the Acacia mini-wine dinner and while out walking the dog before all these events, the guys at the nearby group house had invited me to join them on their porch for Whiskey Wednesday (even the beagle was invited). How to decide what to do with so many options?
The first casualty was the Mellon lecture, despite the fact that it happens only once a year. I made it to the cocktail party at which I did my best to dazzle the guests, but had to leave after an hour and a quarter. As I was saying my goodbyes, one of the guys, Eric, asked if I was leaving to go to a hotter party. "Please. Do I look like the hotter party type? " I asked. "Actually, you do," the guy named Joe answered. Not certain, but I think he meant that as a compliment.
Nest up was Acacia Mid-town and I am so glad I made it there to meet up with my friend because Dale never disappoints. Our charming wine host, Carol Colby, guided us through an evening of sheer delights, imparting wine knowledge and shared stories; she mentioned some lovely personal goodies she'd heard about me from my past. We started with a pear, frisee, pecan and confit salmon with lingonberry vinaigrette paired with 2008 M. Chapoutier Cote-du-Rhone Belleruche Rose, a lovely combination. Perhaps most intriguingly, the label was also in Braille. Carol shared the story behind that unusual detail.
We followed that with braised beef ravioli and roasted pumpkin with blackberry port jus and the 2007 b Delas Freres Cotes-du-Ventoux; the combo was amazing. For the third course, my friend and I split the difference and each ordered a different offering. I got the Lamb Bourgongne, chestnuts, figs, roasted pearl onions and buttered house-made noodles paired with the 2006 Jean-Luc Colombo "Les Fees Brunes" Crozes Hermitage AOC. I could have died happy after this course, which tasted like fall on a plate with wine-to-die for as a pairing. She had the lite hickory smoked tuna, garlic, parsley risotto, Madeira sauce with the 2005 Jean-Luc Colombo Les Forots Cotes-du-Rhone. We switched plates and swooned accordingly.
Stuffed beyond belief, we nonetheless ordered dessert because my friend says that no one does desserts like Dale. Needing no convincing, I agreed to Chocolate Chicory Coffee cake with extra virgin olive oil ice cream. cocoa nibs and grated orange zest. She opted for french-press coffee, but I went with another glass of the Crozes Hermitage. Neither of us was disappointed with our choice.
By this time, we were again the final customers, so it was time to move on. As I walked the dog after arriving home, I checked the guys' porch for signs of Whiskey Wednesday, but I had apparently missed the fun. Fortunately, I had had plenty of my own in various other locations.
The first casualty was the Mellon lecture, despite the fact that it happens only once a year. I made it to the cocktail party at which I did my best to dazzle the guests, but had to leave after an hour and a quarter. As I was saying my goodbyes, one of the guys, Eric, asked if I was leaving to go to a hotter party. "Please. Do I look like the hotter party type? " I asked. "Actually, you do," the guy named Joe answered. Not certain, but I think he meant that as a compliment.
Nest up was Acacia Mid-town and I am so glad I made it there to meet up with my friend because Dale never disappoints. Our charming wine host, Carol Colby, guided us through an evening of sheer delights, imparting wine knowledge and shared stories; she mentioned some lovely personal goodies she'd heard about me from my past. We started with a pear, frisee, pecan and confit salmon with lingonberry vinaigrette paired with 2008 M. Chapoutier Cote-du-Rhone Belleruche Rose, a lovely combination. Perhaps most intriguingly, the label was also in Braille. Carol shared the story behind that unusual detail.
We followed that with braised beef ravioli and roasted pumpkin with blackberry port jus and the 2007 b Delas Freres Cotes-du-Ventoux; the combo was amazing. For the third course, my friend and I split the difference and each ordered a different offering. I got the Lamb Bourgongne, chestnuts, figs, roasted pearl onions and buttered house-made noodles paired with the 2006 Jean-Luc Colombo "Les Fees Brunes" Crozes Hermitage AOC. I could have died happy after this course, which tasted like fall on a plate with wine-to-die for as a pairing. She had the lite hickory smoked tuna, garlic, parsley risotto, Madeira sauce with the 2005 Jean-Luc Colombo Les Forots Cotes-du-Rhone. We switched plates and swooned accordingly.
Stuffed beyond belief, we nonetheless ordered dessert because my friend says that no one does desserts like Dale. Needing no convincing, I agreed to Chocolate Chicory Coffee cake with extra virgin olive oil ice cream. cocoa nibs and grated orange zest. She opted for french-press coffee, but I went with another glass of the Crozes Hermitage. Neither of us was disappointed with our choice.
By this time, we were again the final customers, so it was time to move on. As I walked the dog after arriving home, I checked the guys' porch for signs of Whiskey Wednesday, but I had apparently missed the fun. Fortunately, I had had plenty of my own in various other locations.
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