Tonight I'm Going to Dance

I've always found the Elbys a bit...Masturbatorial. The scene is good, but these felt like RVA giving itself a handjob without seeing what's really going on.

I think the phrase you're looking for is circle jerk.

So opined Facebook. After opting out last year, I gave the Elbys another shot last night, also breaking form by going with a date, albeit a couple date who'd spared no expense to outfit themselves in the evening's theme: the speakeasy era.

Overheard in the ladies' room during the soiree: "I can't believe I bought a hundred dollar dress and ended up wearing a $30 one."

Honey, you still got me beat by $30.

The best I could do was reaching to the very back of my closet and pulling out a black beaded dress I'd originally bought in 1997 for the first Library of Virginia Literary Awards and worn only once since. My only real effort, and it was minor, was crafting a stole of sorts from a fringed dress Pru had donated to the cause, tying a beaded choker around my neck and (gasp) putting on my mother's jade earrings.

I met a woman wearing a fabulous floor-length shell pink beaded dress and when I raved about it, she admitted it had been purchased as her wedding dress - "We dated for five straight years and I finally asked him if he was ever going to propose or did I have to?" - and now she's determined to wear it as much as possible.

As beautiful as it looked on her, I could understand why.

Some people's ensembles got the era right but not the day part. It was, after all, an evening affair, meaning that period bathing costumes (there were multiple) seemed a tad out of place. Not so all the fur stoles, headbands, fascinators, boas and of course, flasks.

Sitting in the theater waiting for the awards ceremony to begin, Pru commented that she'd ended up behind the tallest person in the theater. "And the brightest!" she whispered, alluding to the man's flamingo-colored blazer.

I overheard the group behind me discussing the nominees. When one pointed out that Mama J's gets nominated every year but she'd never been to it, her friend agreed, suggesting they make a date.

But it was when one asked, "Is it in Jackson Ward or Church Hill?" that I knew my intervention was required. Turning around in my seat (and no doubt dislocating a bead or two in the process), I brought the trio up to speed, answering their questions on what to order at Mama J's and the best and worst times to go, noticing midway through that the woman to my right was nodding as I spoke.

Have you been, I asked her rhetorically since why else would she be nodding in agreement. "Yes and you're right about all of it."

Nota Bene's owner Victoria took the very first award for Best New Restaurant, sounding honestly caught of guard by the win in a category with some supremely strong contenders: Laura Lee's, Shagbark and Spoonbread.

Chef of the year David Shannon looked magnificent accepting his award in black leather pants and stylish motorcycle jacket, but when he thanked his boyfriend for his patience with restaurant hours, Mr. Flamingo Jacket turned to his Republican-looking friend, rolling his eyes and making a disgusted face.

Knowing their thoughts on a matter which was none of their business only made it all the sweeter when David's restaurant L'Opossum won Restaurant of the Year at the end.

Earlier, while complimenting David's ensemble, I'd commented about how fun it is to see all the restaurant people out on the same night. He likened it to prom, but I couldn't relate since I hadn't gone to mine. Curious about his, he laughed and admitted that since he couldn't go with his boyfriend, they'd each gotten fake dates and gone as a foursome.

I told him how impressed I was that they'd gotten beards for prom and not just any prom, but one themed "Stairway to Heaven."

Now that I've been to Reservoir Distillery for a tasting, I could appreciate why they won Local Food or Beverage Product of the Year for their Rye Whiskey. When Triple Crossing Brewing Company won Brewery of the Year, I whispered to Pru that I'd been there several times and she looked at me like I had two heads.

For jazz, darling, solely for jazz.

Strong women corrected alternative facts. Before the award for Wine Program of the Year was announced, the hosts read from the judges' opinion, praising the winner for its global wine program. When Secco won, owner Julia wasted no time in correcting that statement. "Our wine list is not global, it's European."

Personally, I think the judge should have noticed that in the first place, but that's just me.

For the first time, the room where the party was held downstairs was large enough to accommodate all the attendees, although, as is standard at the Elbys, there were not enough bars set up. At one point, I counted 30+ people in line to get a glass of wine, meaning you may as well get in line again as soon as you get your first glass.

I call that a flawed system.

We made the food rounds, danced a little and as per usual with the Elbys, food and drink runs out in short order and everyone cuts out for an afterparty where the real fun happens. And, this year, the compliments.

Our group had decided on My Noodle for karaoke and as a restaurant owner I've known for 20 years and I headed to the garage side by side, he marveled at how much time had passed since we first met during the grunge era. It was when he said, "You're even more attractive now than when we met!" that I was reminded why it's good to have old friends.

My Noodle was already hopping and a song I didn't recognize was being sung only slightly off key by a couple when we walked in and the bartender squinted his eyes at me, saying, "I know you." In no time, we were handed shots of Plantation Barbados 5 Year Rum, coincidentally by the guy who'd dated the woman in the pink wedding dress for five years before proposing.

The bartender I knew came from behind the bar to enthusiastically belt out Neil Diamond's "America" - I happen to know that Beau knew every word to that song - and I'm guessing by his polished perfromance that it wasn't his first time doing it, either.

When he finished showing off, he crafted cocktails for our group, mine a tequila, vermouth, pineapple and lime combo that appealed to a tequila-loving friend who ordered a repeat.

Other Elbys refugees arrived and before long the place was a wonderfully warm mass of humanity dancing, drinking, talking and flirting. At one point, I felt someone rhythmically bumping up against me and turned to see a woman using my backside to get my attention. It worked.

Our tweeting dictator wannabe would've hated how diverse the crowd was. I know I danced with no fewer than four successful immigrants and who knows what was going on with everybody else?

A guy who asked me to dance waited till we were on the so-called dance floor before assuring me that he and his wife have an open relationship, so he'd love to meet up with me away from the crowds.

I'm not going to lie, the dancing was great, but it was becoming clear that either the restaurant community is sex-starved or the Elbys make people horny.

Hardly surprising when you begin an evening in masturbatorial mode.

You Should Be Dancing

It turns out that I'm not up to the task of dancing in 5" platforms for five hours after all. But I tried.

Tonight was the Elby's, Richmond's annual awards blowout for the restaurant business. How could I miss that?

I haven't since its inception four years ago and with this year's theme, "disco," there was even less chance I wouldn't be there. Come on, the 70s? My era? I not only planned to attend in period-appropriate attire, but critique those who dared to show up in inappropriate togs.

For example: white boots, fitted dresses, sequins and anything that looked like it came straight out of the '80s. Let me assure you, I was there and I know if we were wearing it or not.

I arrived at the VMFA a few minutes early, walking in with a favorite sous chef and nabbing a Prosecco, lemon and bitters cocktail so I could lean against the ticket counter and judge everyone who arrived thereafter. It's not that I was being critical, just looking to authenticate what passed for '70s garb.

Before long, I had plenty of company: the professional eaters, the chef clad in tight pants and no shirt, the restaurant owner with a hot haircut and jumpsuit.

We all mingled until being ushered to the auditorium for the awards. Luckily for me, I found a seat near friends and settled in to see what politics had been in play to determine the winners.

New this year was an onstage band and a group of nubile dancers who launched the show with their gyrations before host Jason Tessauro proceeded to sing and dance, thus dazzling us all.

Sure, we knew he could saber a bottle of bubbly, but sing and dance in a silver lame suit? Impressive.

In his repertoire was a song set to "Copacabana" about Metzger and another set to "Bad Mama Jama" about Julia at Secco. Both were hilarious, as was a tune set to "I Will Survive" about making the drive to Lehja to eat while cheating on Lee Gregory.

I was pleased to see Acacia win as Richmond stalwart while Jackson Ward entry the Rogue Gentlemen won for best cocktail program. All hail the Ward.

When Acacia won for wine program, sommelier Thomas said that, "We all love wine," causing an audience and staff member to shout out, "Yea, we do!" Autumn Olive Farms won for purveyor of the year, thanking Manakintowne Growers for setting the bar high 29 years ago.

When Comfort's Travis Milton won innovator of the year, he took the stage in his usual jeans and plaid attire, saying, "How in the world did I beat Travis freaking Croxton?" Appalachia trumps oysters apparently.

From there, we followed the same dancers upstairs to the marble hall for the big party under the disco ball. I had no worries about my disco worthiness, having planned my ensemble based on a 1977 photo, even using jewelry and a purse from the era.

Maybe it was my '70s-appropriate outfit, but I think it's safe to say that never in my life have I been told a half dozen times how beautiful I looked. You know, it helps to have been around for the '70s the first time.

DJ Marty Key absolutely nailed the soundtrack while playing videos from the era on the marble walls, most of which I'd never seen before (pre-MTV and all that). Who knew they were making videos of those disco songs?

Friends had managed to nab a table, so I joined them with nibbles and Prosecco to discuss the award winners, many of which we thought bad choices. As far as we were concerned, politics should not play into selection.

It seemed to everyone that the party was more crowded than last year, although it may have been the way the room was laid out. I spotted a friend tending bar and we commiserated about the crowd not properly appreciating the music of the time like we did.

All we could do about it was dance, him on one side of the wine table and me on the other. Such a waste.

Making my way around the room, I ran into plenty of friends as well as several people I had met out and about who remembered me. Meanwhile, I picked up small plates from the students at Culinard, tasting through various dishes as I went.

But eventually, I gave into the disco ball, joining the crowd on the dance floor for all the classics of my youth: Chic, ABBA, Earth, Wind and Fire, Commodores. You know, that stuff holds up amazingly well on the dance floor.

All too soon, the lights came up and it was time to vacate the VMFA and head to the after party at Can Can, where DJ Marty had mysteriously transplanted himself. No videos there, but plenty of kick ass disco music - Michael Jackson, Bee Gees, Vicki Sue Robinson - that eventually got me dancing with an award winner, a wine pourer and a front of the house manager, not to mention untold strangers.

Yes, there was bumping going on.

One woman and I discoursed on Richmonders who are slow to dance even when the music is great because of whatever repressed Puritanical breeding they are saddled with. "Just get up there and move," she said of the reluctant as we grinded up against each other.

Over the course of several hours, I had deep chats with one restaurant owner, light conversation with a cheese monger and witty repartee with a butcher. Sometime around midnight, I took off my platform shoes to let my barking dogs relax.

"No, no, there's glass on the floor," a restaurant owner warned, wine bottle in hand. I was past caring. I wasn't going to stop dancing, so I'd have to take my chances with the floor.

As I did, two different people gave me a hard time because I wasn't wearing tights, something we eschewed in the disco era.

"I get the historical accuracy, but you always wear amazing tights," one nominee insisted. Not when simulating 1977, my dear.

In case you can't tell, I had a blast tonight. A camera crew came around and interviewed me (for who knows what) and when asked why I was there, I said simply for the music. To dance.

Sure, people were getting awards, but that doesn't affect me. I'm going to eat where I want to eat. I went for the music to dance. And as instructed back in the day, I didn't stop until I got enough.

Okay, I stopped when Marty stopped playing. Unfortunately, all good boogie wonderlands must end.

Only problem is, it'll be weeks before I get all the glitter out of my apartment. Small price to pay for so much fun.

The Eight-Oh-Fork Crowd

The local restaurant industry cleans up far better than you might think.

At least for tonight's third installment of the Elbys, they not only dressed up, many of them dressed in vintage outfits as part of the  golden age of Hollywood theme, logical since the awards were held at the VMFA.

Local vintage stores Halcyon and Bygones must have made bank outfitting this crowd.

Me, I pulled out my one long dress, a black, burnt velvet sheath purchased twenty years ago at Lex's of Carytown by a former boyfriend, threw on a pink boa and that was that.

Needless to say, most of the women looked far better than I did.

But it wasn't about ensembles (well, partly it was), but about restaurants, so after the museum director welcomed us, we saw a film featuring the Pasture owners dancing and the Rappahannock crew, well, sort of dancing.

Host Jason Tesauro read his cleverly-written tribute to the local restaurant scene, called "The Eight -oh- Fork," touching on openings, closings, trends and just about everything that happened last year.

I found it brilliant and laugh-out-loud funny in places while a younger foodie later complained to a friend and me that it was too long. I held my tongue from telling her that it was her Twitter-addled attention span that was the issue, not Jason's writing or wit.

Then he and co-host Brandon Fox of Richmond magazine began things by toasting the evening with flasks. Seeing her take a swig, it was obvious hers wasn't liquor while his was. She later admitted as much.

Amateur.

David of WPA Bakery took the pastry chef award, lamenting being the first to speak to a cold crowd but thanking his wife Amy for pushing him to open up the bakery.

Introducing the nominees for wine program, Brandon touted Lemaire for having Virginia wine on its list, "as all restaurants should." I have to admit, I clapped in support of that sentiment.

When Enoteca Sogno won the award, a guy shouted, "Get the f*ck outta here!" in surprise and I'm sure he wasn't the only one.

Owner Gary made one of the best points of the evening, saying, "We'll never be a great food town until we're a great wine town."

Sean of Balliceaux presented the award for beverage program, noting, "It used to be red bull and vodka passed for a cocktail in Richmond and now Fernet has become more common than Jagermeister and that's a good thing," before giving the award to Dutch & Co.

Lemaire won for excellence in service, ho-hum, when I would have much rather seen Mama J's win that one.

Acacia's Dale, a twice former winner, was called up to present the chef of the year award, joking, "I guess they're putting me out to pasture."

Or taking him out of the running so someone else could win.

Lee of the Roosevelt won that one, thanking his line cooks (and partners in bad music) Scott and Mark for "holding it down."

Michele of Pasture and star of the opening dance video won front of the house manager and gave the best speech, saying, "This is for everyone who works in this business every day like they own it even if they don't. This award is for every waitress who ever wanted to own her own restaurant. It rocks!"

The neighborhood restaurant award was chosen not by the panel who chose the other awards, but by a readers' poll and Garnett's took that one, as perfect a neighborhood restaurant as there could be.

When Estilo won for new restaurant of the year, co-owner Jessica seemed shocked, saying, "This is the part of the Elbys drinking game where you take a shot because a girl loses her shit onstage."

Overcome as she sounded, she remembered to introduce her Scottish chef, the one who makes all that tasty South American food.

Phil of Dutch & Co, won rising culinary star and also the best-dressed male award for the evening, his white scarf almost falling off as he hurried onstage to collect his award.

Travis of Rappahannock won restaurateur of the year, thanking Pete, his chef at Merroir, whom I'd seen earlier in the evening, looking quite dapper, and Jason of Pasture for convincing him to take a chance on Grace Street.

The Roosevelt took restaurant of the year, surprising a few people, including Chef Lee, after all their other awards tonight.

Then it was like the lesson had ended and the class was sent to recess, in this case the marble hall to eat and drink and be merry.

The Elbys had learned a few things from last year's mistakes and the bars were better placed but the food was still being plated individually, making for long lines to gather an array of plates if you wanted to taste more than one thing.

Over at the dessert table, one of the chefs told me that he cringed watching people eating his sweets with the wrong beverage. He's hoping that by next year, there's a pairing station next to the food tables so people might eat and drink what works best together and not just whatever they have in hand.

DJ Marty of Steady Sounds was killing it with soundtrack music, my favorite being the theme to "Shaft," but everything he played was solid.

It seemed like everyone I knew and ran into was shocked to see me in a full-length dress, my assets covered up.

I made sure to pull up my dress to show certain ones my impressive tights with different results. The cheese whiz told me I should never cover up those beauties. In one case, I apparently caught the attention of a man standing beside me ("I think he wants to meet you now") and another time, caused a friend to pull out a phone to take a picture.

No evidence, please.

A handsome server showed me video of his beagle, whom I'd met on one of my walks. A girlfriend asked me to help her unzip her dress so she could go to the bathroom. The newly sensitive one kissed me on the cheek for the second time in three days.

Everywhere I turned, there was someone I knew to talk to.

And I'm a nobody, so I can't imagine what it was like for nominees and winners in that crowd.

As soon as the bar was shut down, people began leaving for the afterparty at Magpie. I was in charge of driving a girlfriend home so I roped her into going to Carver for more festivities, not a tough sell.

People just kept arriving to the tiny restaurant and many of the women's first order of business was shoe removal.

Plenty of people were already in their cups by the time they arrived, while others had been too busy mingling and were just now getting started.

A table with pork and kimchee sliders and queso fresca arancini with pear jam provided something to sop up the alcohol as people got loose away from the museum setting.

A favorite bartender, slightly loopy, found me, complimenting my dress, my attitude and my lifestyle, guessing that I had been much like her when I was her age.

In some ways, maybe, but I wasn't eating nearly as well as she does when I was her age.

But then, I wasn't living in Richmond.

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.

How Soon is Now?

If the Virginia Historical Society had spontaneously combusted tonight, half the restaurants in Richmond would have had to close and a lot of great tights would have gone up in a puff of smoke.

Fortunately that wasn't the case.

The occasion was the inaugural Elbys, Richmond's restaurant awards named for Master Chef Paul Elbling.

Shortly after arriving, I came face to face with the great man himself when he walked up to me and said, "You have such beautiful stockings. And what's in them."

Leave it to a Frenchman to compliment a random stranger right off the bat.

Soon the hordes of restaurant people and the merely curious were herded into the auditorium where I had heard many a Banner Lecture.

It was there that Richmond Magazine proceeded to announce the restaurant awards while alternately sharing food history about the eight Virginia Presidents.

Several people told me that they could have lived without the food trivia, but I loved it.

Witness: George Washington was obsessed with composting (yes, dung piles at Mount Vernon). Virginia ladies valued themselves based on their bacon.

And then just as the tension was becoming claustrophobic, the honored were called onstage.

Some awards were hardly surprises. Lemaire won for fine dining.

Dale Reitzer won Chef of the Year, getting laughs with his acknowledgement of his staff that, "I'm not shit without them."

Balliceaux won for their drink program, with mixologist Sean Rapoza giving a nod to Bobby Kruger for having blazed the trail.

When Black Sheep won Best Neighborhood restaurant, owner Amy spoke eloquently about their commitment to Carver and getting people to come to "that" neighborhood.

Host Juan Conde followed her remarks by saying, "Just keep serving those chicken livers and I'll keep coming back."

When Secco won for Best Wine Program, Chef Tim Bereika  in Chucks Taylors and owner Julia (the tomboy) in a dress took the stage.

After thanking her suppliers, she said, "And thanks to Richmond for getting it."

You're welcome, oh ginger one.

EAT Restaurant Partners (Blue Goat, Osaka et al) won for Restaurant Visionaries, with Ron Melford saying, "Thanks to everyone who didn't go to a chain restaurant last year."

Call me proud of my membership in that group.

Best Pastry Chef went to Josh Gaulin of Acacia, beating out one of my favorite chefs, Carly Herring, who I was happy to hear has now landed at C'est le Vin.

Another of my favorites got the nod when Caleb Shriver at Aziza's won Rising Culinary Star for across the board perfection as well as having "the work ethic of a beast."

I'd just been sucking on his bones Friday night. Beef marrow, that is.

The Roosevelt took Best New Restaurant to much applause and gratitude from Chef Lee Gregory who sounded genuinely surprised at the honor.

At the after-party, Marty of Steady Sounds spun the excellent mix of music which got a surprisingly few restaurant types to dance.

Richmond magazine's editor said she was hoping to see people dancing on the tables and, frankly, that would have been awesome.

One of Acacia's stellar bar staff suggested he and I get things going but once he told me he used to teach swing dancing, I thought better of it.

Fortunately, other Acacia types got the dancing started.

Because there were only two bars, lines were long but waiting became a party with people visiting one another in line in the interim.

Food tables were everywhere and they featured the food preferences of the Virginia-born Presidents.

While loading up on spoon bread and fried chicken, the server said, "I love your tights. I noticed them when you came in two hours ago."

Wow. You're going to hand me food and say nice things at the same time? Definitely my kind of party.

And I was far from the only pair of cute tights. Women I have never seen wear tights pulled them out for this shindig. High heels abounded.

One restaurant owner, when complimented on her tights, admitted that she'd found them in her closet, along with a beautiful evening purse.

I only wish my closet held such a treasure trove of goodies.

After several conversations, a favorite sous chef belatedly introduced me to his girlfriend, apologizing for forgetting previously.

"I'm trying to be better," he said with a grin. "I'm teachable."

His lovely girlfriend agreed that teachable men were the very best kind.

Dollop's baker had on one of the most stylish and colorful dresses of the evening and when I complimented her on it, she admitted that it was really a bathing suit cover-up.

You can't buy that kind of fashion sense.

I finished up at the Broadbent table for some 1996 Madeira Colheita, smooth and nutty on the finish.

Our little group fell into a discussion of what we were doing in 1996.

Let's see. Not drinking Madeira and not having half as much fun as now.

Do they give awards for finally getting it right?