Worldly Early Birds

Birthdays were never meant to be confined to a day.

So nearly a week after Moire's actual natal anniversary, we met up to celebrate girlfriend-style.

I suggested The Roosevelt, checking to inquire if it was too far for her.

"Pshaw," she scoffed. "I am worldly!"

Since she's barely a month back from Paris, I thought Kir Royales seemed appropriate, celebratory and continental, combining Virginia Fizz with French Cassis in a lemon-rubbed flute for a beautiful pink toast to my long-time friend.

The kind of close friend who will turn to me mid-admission, like she did tonight, and say, "Let me ask you something no one else will."

And I will answer her honestly.

I was happy to hear that my recommendation of Aziza's for her birthday dinner had panned out magnificently.

Whenever we start one of our debriefing happy hours, she always insists I give her my highlights first before she'll allow me to inquire about her goings-on.

After giving her the abridged version, I got her to give me her best.

There was the one about the fish trapped in her koi pond and the hilarious tale of its rescue which nearly involved her face-planting in the pond.

Then there were the glasses she enthusiastically ordered (her husband was dubious and not a little mocking of her order, but she kept her eyes on the prize), seduced by their colorful bottoms and more than a little enticed by the fact that the glasses carried her name.

Except that they really didn't (just cheesy marketing) and the colored bottoms washed off the first time she put them in the dishwasher.

Disappointed and disgusted with the now-gray glasses, she was forced to admit to her husband that she didn't even like the glasses.

You have to understand, this is a woman so innately funny that she's part of a VCU comedy night next month.

At one point, she looked at her now-empty glass, glanced at my half-full one and demanded to know, "How did that happen? Get on that!"

Don't you just know I did as I was told?

And like me, she's an enthusiastic eater, so we soon turned to the "Early bird gets this..." menu and ordered three of the four dishes.

Butter bean hummus on grilled flatbread with thinly-sliced radishes and cukes was divine, the epitome of summer with all its fresh veggie tastes.

I do love me some butterbeans.

Fried green tomatoes came piled high with shrimp salad, showcasing two more warm-weather favorites, with the added bonus of a crispy-fried crust.

Calabash oysters (the birthday girl loves her fried oysters) sat on remoulade with slaw atop them for our birthday dinner closer.

By then the guy sitting next to Moire had joined in our conversation ("You two sound like you're having fun"), recognizing me from when we met at Dutch & Co.'s bar a few months back.

Small, smaller, smallest, this town is.

He was talking about the benefits of taking your employees out to lunch (he likes to take them to Bistro Bobette) to increase workplace production.

Happily-fed workers are devoted workers, he said.

We got in a great discussion with him about print versus online, a subject near and dear to his IT business heart, although we were on opposing sides of the issue.

When I inquired what he was doing after dinner, he said he'd be practicing his banjo.

Explaining that a banjo is tuned to G major, or as he humorously put it, "God's chord," we heard about how much better his banjo-playing has gotten lately.

He said he's determined to become more than proficient and you have to admire someone willing to leave a bar and two fine conversationalists for the sake of practicing.

But then, some people just know when it's time to get on that.

We Just Had a Good Time* (*Julia Child)

By the time I'd finished driving back from the river and doing mad edits, it was suddenly time to go out.

Did I have plans? No.

How fortunate that when I called a friend and asked where to report, he responded "Amour."

I'd have been on time except that as I was approaching Amour, I ran into a J-Ward neighbor.

She was instantly recognizable and she claimed I was the same.

She'd been taking one for the team (that is, drinking gin and tonics) at Can Can as part of her job and was now finally off.

We bonded on Cary Street over layoffs, Sweet Fern and staying up late.

Naturally, I was late for my couple date at Amour.

In a pleasant twist, that meant that my Kir Royale was already in place when I arrived.

My friends immediately shared their vacation pics from Las Vegas, so I got to see the Eiffel Tower, untold fountains and views of tall buildings.

It sounded like they had a blast in the land of Celine Dion and 107 degrees.

Yes, the nights were late (they were operating on east coast time) and the food magnificent (I saw the menu from Bouchon), but mostly they raved about the sunsets and the views.

I was pleasantly surprised when Holmes gifted me with a CD, "Not Quite Beatles," a compilation he'd made of favorite songs derived from the masters.

It's true; I'm the type who can be won over by Bourgeois Tagg and Big Star.

Moving on to Provence rose, we ignored the rollicking parties in the front of the restaurant and ordered food.

I stayed honest with a large bistro salad, grilled mushroom caps with Comte and fresh chives while vichyssoise, frog legs and escargots showed up in front of my dates.

And without any fanfare, a fourth joined our group.

With a stylish hat, a quick wit and all kinds of life experience to share, he was a welcome addition to our trio.

Whether discussing peas in London, Chris Squire of Yes or compressed mp3 files, he was a worthy addition to our group.

We got to a point with wine where my friend Holmes mused, "Where should we go, red or white? How about blue?"

Oh, my. Don't give me an opening, because I'll take it.

When Holmes mentioned blue, I immediately suggested Jannison et Fils Bleu, a lovely champagne with a nose of flowers and a soft, round finish, that I knew Amour carried.

How could I not recommend a Frenchman who works on two continents, making bubbles both with Virginia and French grapes?

We included our new friend in our bleu tasting and blathered on about grand pianos, life in the Grenadines (him) and Hanover Avenue.

Dessert arrived and in addition to the sea salt chocolate creme bruelee and chocolate gelato, we ventured into hallowed ground.

Since we're a mere day past Julia Child's birthday, how could I not savor her classic cherry clafouti?

The dish, resembling a sweet, crustless quiche with a custard center and those lovely cherries, was the perfect nod to Julia on her 100th.

And who wouldn't want to celebrate Julia this week?

While our new best friend thoroughly explained steel drum making and playing, we shared desserts and Bleu.

Appropriately, the music was Django Reinhardt-inspired or even the great one himself, making for a superb soundtrack to our eating and drinking.

Props must go to our unexpected fourth who not only hung in until the end, but jumped in every art and music conversation with enough pertinent information to be a true asset to the group.

Holmes pontificated about the outsize girth of his own head and our fourth countered with details about Ignatius Hats, pleasing one of the native Richmonders no end.

Personally, I need neither hats nor a Petersburg hat shop, but the discussion was so lively and compelling that I felt interested despite no actual relevance to my little corner of the universe.

And considering I'd begun the evening with no real plans, having wound up with three clever people with whom I could eat, drink and be merry was a hugely unexpected bonus.

In fact, it may have been the perfect tribute to Julia.

As it is, I live by her words.

Life itself is the proper binge.

Best of all, with no desire to purge afterwards.