Art and Acacia

This new Gallery 5 After 5 series has the potential to become one of my favorite monthly events. It's got everything I like and still allows for an evening afterwards.

The first hour is music with mingling and drinking and the second is a lecture. I enjoyed talking to a girl on her first visit to G5, who'd broken up with her boyfriend of six years and was still getting the hang of going out alone. I did what I could to start her on the path to flying solo successfully (sadly, my specialty).

Tonight's talk was by sculptor Paul diPasquale, whom I'd first met 15 years ago on a community art project. When I brought it up, he remembered the project like it was yesterday. Amazing.

His talk focused on three of his works: Connecticut, the Indian, Arthur Ashe and Neptune in Virginia Beach, as well as his belief that public art should come from passion and not paid complacency.

I couldn't have been more surprised to learn that Connecticut had originally been designed for a building at the intersection of Connecticut and Woodley Avenues in D.C., a short walk from my home in DuPont Circle. I recognized the building at once and it would have certainly been a great location for the brave.

Except that the bed-ridden 90-year old owner of the building didn't want "a god-damn Indian" on his building. Luckily local modern art patron Sydney Lewis came to the rescue, leasing Connecticut for $1500 a month for two years and placing it atop Best Products here in Richmond.

The Arthur Ashe story was just as interesting because the sculptor contacted Ashe about doing a likeness of him only to have Ashe die within weeks. Luckily he'd already stated his requirements for the statue: books, children, him dressed in a warm-up suit, shoelaces untied and without the focus on Ashe.

Since a 1927 ordinance had already decreed that the next statue on Monument Avenue would be at Roseneath, and di Pasquale had obtained the tennis star's permission and preferences, it became so. It was the city that decided that Ashe would face west, welcoming people into the city.

The massive Neptune sculpture in Virginia Beach was a result of the Ashe commission and diPasquale joked that, "I like to think of it as a self-portrait." I have to love an artist with a sense of humor.

Talking to him after the talk, I found him to be charming and still enthusiastic about making art whether for public or private consumption. "Don't give up," was the only advice he'd offer. I wasn't considering it.

After such a satisfying start, I decided on Acacia for dinner and was surprised to find an empty bar (although not surprised at a full restaurant). I began with a glass of the South African Man Chenin Blanc and conversation with bartender Arthur about the state of the cocktail and speakeasy world, since we'd both recently read articles on those very topics.

One thing I love about Acacia's menu is the array of small plates and after a superb apple, mixed lettuce, cashew, golden raisin and bleu cheese salad, eagerly tore into the local rabbit rillettes with house made Saltines.

Nothing but the Pfaffl Gruner Vetliner could have made the rabbit rillettes any better than they were, and that I had. The delicate Saltines were the ideal vehicle for the spicy and perfectly rich rillettes, especially when topped with the tomato compote. I might add that the cost of this dish was $4, less than a combo at a fast food joint.

Arthur, as always, was the perfect host, chatty when I wanted to talk and discreet otherwise. We talked about the failings of the ABC (what happened to el Tesoro anyway?), the requirements for what we consider good tequila (let's not try to appeal to the lowest common denominator) and his impressions after finally seeing No BS Brass Band for the first time (wowed).

And I'm sure it was great, because No BS is great, but local rabbit rilletes for $4? That's freaking awesome.

Certainly right up there with hearing a passionate sculptor talk about taking risks to do the work he loves. Passion, risks and rabbit; now that's an evening that speaks to me.

All About a Stranger at Acacia

When a good friend has to cancel on you for the night's festivities, it should ruin the whole evening, right? Our plan had been to got to the wine dinner at Acacia and then over to Gallery 5 to hear Mouthbreather play. But unfortunately, business took precedence over pleasure and she couldn't go with me.

Since we already had a reservation at the bar (please take note, yet another place that honors bar reservations), I decided to just go by myself and see what happened. It's not like I haven't done wine dinners by myself before, after all. Besides, it was a Spanish wine dinner and I wanted to drink Spanish wine tonight, even if it was just with the bartender. So off I went alone.

Arthur welcomed me graciously and gallantly didn't even point out my absent dinner partner. Learning that I wanted to partake of the wine dinner, it wasn't long before things were set in motion and the Cordorniu Pinot Brut was being poured for me. A lovely pink Cava, it was paired with local asparagus, house made Mozzarella, lemon caper and olive vinaigrette. About this time, a charming man appeared next to me to introduce himself and talk to me about wine.

I guessed that it was Clement Brown, the wine rep for the evening and I was correct. He wanted to tell me about the Cava but we wound up talking about so much more. First off, he referred to me as attractive, always a good way to get a customer's attention. Next he asked if I was in the wine business, but I quickly corrected that presumption. Before we could get to the good stuff, he was off to educate other winer/diners.

The first course was wonderful paired with the Cava. Arthur and I were discussing celebrating Earth day tomorrow and I pointed out what an earth-friendly dish this was, what with the local asparagus and house-made Mozzarella having such a low carbon footprint. Then Clement was back and conversation about his French roots and British schooling ensued. He asked how I was enjoying the Cava and I had to rave. We chatted about the brilliance of Acacia's mini-wine dinners with their oh-so-affordable $35 price tag and schedule-free timing.

Course #2 was warm pastrami smoked salmon with rye gnocchi and light fennel kraut paired with Mar de Frades Rias Baxas Albarino (or, as we like to say, hay and honeysuckle) and to die for. By now Clement was back and we'd moved on to the French Film Fest (we'd seen the same films this year) and the perils of being oldest children. There may have even been some discussion of Catholic guilt and birth control pills; it was truly a delightful conversation. And rye gnocchi. well, I want that again, preferably real soon.

There were two entree choices: lime-crusted rare tuna, fava bean mash, red pepper compote and spring pea cilantro sauce or pig on pig (as Acacia's menu called it, roasted pork loin wrapped with pork belly with celery root gratin and apple pecan pork sauce). When Arthur asked my preference, I asked him who could resist pig wrapped pig and he understood. Clement leaned over and said, "The wine for it is better, too." Chardonnay vs. Temperanillo is no choice, really.

Shortly before my pork feast arrived, Arthur began setting up the bar for the stool next to me and it wasn't long before Clement joined me for dinner. Considering that I was expecting a solo dining experience tonight, I was quite happy to have such an articulate and fascinating dinner partner. It didn't hurt that he explained taking up residence next to me by saying that it wasn't often he found someone so interesting. Compliments are a sure-fire way to get someone's attention.

Gentlemen, take note, if you want to impress a nerd, ask questions like, "What are you currently reading?" and "What are you looking for in a man?" Besides being great conversation starters, they show what an interesting guy you are. Meanwhile he was tucking into the tuna and I was enjoying the pig (three huge slices, by the way) but both of us were savoring the 2006 Vina Zaco Temperanillo Rioja and talking about the pleasures of well-chosen pairings. Chef Dale Reitzer had given him the menu and he'd been left to pick the pairings and I was happy to acknowledge what a terrific job he'd done.

After we compared our vastly different love lives (he's long-time happily married and I'm, well, still trying to attract the love of my life)), Clement suggested dessert and then asked if I was the dessert-eating type. Yes, I'm one of those females I had to admit, impressing him with my lack of sanctimonious abstention. He suggested one of his Sauternes with our sweets, a fine idea in my opinion.

Dessert consisted of prickly pear cactus sorbet, chocolate ganache and passion fruit flan, giving us all kinds of taste delights to accompany our Sauterne and discussion of the romance of Out of Africa. "Tell me a story," a line from the movie we agreed was about the most romantic thing to say to the opposite sex.

Dale came over to dish and talk about how the kitchen handles these events (from crazed to nonchalant all in the course of an hour or so) and the need to address the economic climate to keep diners coming back for these events. Judging by tonight's crowd, I'd say he's nailed the concept; even the pulsing club music adds something to the experience that other places just don't have.

Arthur and I were talking about tomorrow's Earth Day drink event at Julep, which naturally led to talking about my favorite spirit, tequila. He insisted I try El Tessoro before I left because, as a recent convert, it's his new tequila favorite and I had to admit it was a fine example of the good stuff. As my mom always used to say, there's no better way to end a good wine dinner than with tequila. Okay, she didn't day that but she should have.

And okay, I didn't expect to have such a good time without my gal pal, but as fate would have it, I enjoyed myself way too much with what started as a random encounter with a stranger who just so happened to be a good talker and full of interesting life experience.

You just never know who or what you're going to find unless you're out there to discover it. I've never liked adventure movies but I'm all about some exploring. So to speak.

Carytown's Newest Eats: Bonvenu

Carytown beckoned me and two friends last night to check out the newest addition to the eating scene there, Bonvenu, in the space formerly occupied by The Track.

The interior has been vastly altered with lighter walls, sexy lighting and a new booth/table configuration.

The formerly frumpy fuddy-duddy got a Glamour Shots makeover and it's a huge improvement.

Best of all, the bar has been reworked into a larger, more user-friendly shape than the old cramped reverse L-shape.

Staff-wise, there were familiar faces from Mezzanine and Escobar, all friendly and seemingly psyched to welcome customers.

I staked out an end stool, my favorite bar position, followed shortly by Friend 1 and some time later, Friend 2 (not to be confused with Thing 1 and Thing 2).

Because Friend 2's arrival was delayed, we started with a bottle of Over the Edge Pinot Noir.

Midway through the bottle, and with Friend 2 nowhere in sight, we opted to try El Tesoro Tequila Anejo (F1's idea, although I was a most willing participant).

As one of those practically non-existent people who drink only wine and good tequila, I am always eager to try new varieties.

This one tasted of citrus and herbs and was as smooth as silk; for anyone who claims that they just can't stomach tequila, I respectfully suggest that you haven't tried the right one.

With wine and tequila in my recent past, it was time for some sort of victuals and I went with French Onion Soup, a dish I love but which is too often executed in a mediocre manner.

This was excellent and I was halfway through when Friend 2 arrived and the real ordering began in earnest.

F1 got the rack of lamb and F2 the trout.

I went with the Beggars' Purses stuffed with Tasso ham, lump crab meat and chevre with herbed lemon creme fraiche.

F2 was most pleased with her fish and F1 gave me several delicious bites of his cream sauce laden lamb.

My purses were a good size with their obscenely rich contents a nice contrast to the simple wrapper.

Since I can't discuss a restaurant experience without mentioning the audio component, here it is.

The bartender's iPod provided the music, and like so many twenty-somethings, he's a classic rock fan.

Something about not having lived through it seems to make it wildly appealing to subsequent generations (personally, I'm over most of it).

I will give him credit, though.

Although most of the artists were vintage, his song choices showed some creativity; we heard many more obscure tracks than big hits, always a plus in my book.

And yet again, I was rewarded with an enthusiastic "Good for you!" when he learned that I don't have a cell phone.

It never ceases to amaze me how impressed some people are when they discover I live my life without one.

Despite The Track having been the setting for a memorable first date, it was never high on my list of regular destinations.

If my next meal at Bonvenu is as impressive as tonight's was, that won't be the case with Bonvenu.