I went from zero to cocky in the space of a doctor's appointment.
Since it had been a few years since I'd had blood work done, I was in for that and a prescription refill, but my doctor had come to praise: my blood pressure, my activity level, my weight, my water intake and especially my sleep sufficiency. Profusely.
So much so that he asked if he could use me as an example to other patients - of course, using only my first name and age, he assured me - of good habits paying off despite advancing age.
Use away, doc, but people will hate to hear it.
Just so you know, here's what a mature woman with good habits does when a nurse tells her she's lost five pounds and a doctor asks to make an example of her: immediately seeks out a way to celebrate with food. Duh.
Conveniently, the Jackdaw pop-up was setting up residence at Millie's tonight (its first outing since abandoning the brief go as Antler & Fin) and while Facebook nattered about whether to make reservations or not, I did the smart thing and just showed up shortly after they opened, claiming the least popular bar stool at Millie's (at least during summer).
Sitting diagonally across from the stove of an open kitchen while air conditioning runs is only a sacrifice for those accustomed to A/C.
Fact: my perch stove-side was not only cooler but less humid than my apartment.
After hearing my reply about what order I'd like my food to arrive (any), the server not only accepted me but complimented my dress for its summery turquoise color, then shared that it had been a no-brainer to work tonight's pop-up so she could taste one of everything.
I was not quite that ambitious.
An observation of mine led us off on a discussion about changing server/bartender roles since cell phones have become the new normal.
"When I see everyone at a table has taken out their cell phone, it's either because the food just arrived and they all need to take pictures or they're done eating and I can collect plates," she explains.
No slacker this one, she cited studies about the changes in restaurant ordering habits and how it now takes 17 minutes longer once people sit down to get food because of customer delays in ordering due to cell phone priority.
I know it's useless to rail, but will we ever, as a people, climb out of this uncivilized hole we've dug ourselves into since the advent of devices?
Starting with golden crispy eggrolls, er, lumpia of camerones al pastor with a sweet and sour sauce, I moved on to Border Springs tea-soaked lamb ribs with spicy potato salad (guy at bar: "best potato salad I ever had") and pickled peaches (I limited myself to two slices so my tongue wouldn't swell), but it was the nutty, salty soy, texture-rich fried farro with vegetables that hit the most pleasure points for me.
The couple nearby told me to help myself to a taste of anything they ordered that I didn't, but the sad truth was that I couldn't even finish all I'd ordered, not that I didn't break habit and get it boxed up to go.
Plain and simple, it'll be fine leftovers like any good Chinese food is.
Stop number two had been on my to-do list for some time now.
Given the often relative paucity of Monday night happenings, I'd been intending to get over to the Camel for Motown Mondays (Spinning all your favorite Motown classics, covers, close relatives and remixes) to see how Mad Skillz and DJ Lonnie B interpreted Motown to a 2016 crowd, as it turned out, with a 40-year age range.
Well, they did it by playing Barry White's "You're the First, My Last, My Everything" for a couple celebrating an anniversary, a white couple who got up and danced every note of the song (without completely embarrassing white people everywhere), matching each other step for step as they've undoubtedly been doing since disco-dating in the '70s.
The couple didn't request it, but the DJ followed that with "Let's Get It On," a selection that got cheers.
A young trio formed in front of the stage to watch the DJ spin and scratch, but they also danced in place and filmed not the dancers but the DJ.
One of the group looked like nothing so much as a character on an '80s sitcom (at least, a non-TV watcher's notion of an '80s sitcom character) with a fabulous high fade and big nerdy-looking glasses.
I listened through snippets of classic songs like "Ain't That Peculiar?" and "Eve of Destruction," impressed with both the music and the crowd it had attracted, both less typical than the usual Camel fare.
Yea, I could do this again.
Proximity made my next stop effortless. A few doors down, Firehouse Fringe was hosting Cabaret: A Night of Contemporary Musical Theater sung by some of the younger members of the Richmond theater community.
My interest was doubly piqued, partly for the exposure to newer music from plays I hadn't yet seen or heard and partly because I'd been so impressed with the young theater collective who'd recently staged "Seven Brides" there and blown my socks off with their youthful exuberance and creativity, that I was curious how much more of that energy and talent was out there.
It wasn't hard to get a glimpse of the musicals that have captured young millennial drama kids' hearts - "Waitress," "Edges," recent Tony winner "Funhome" - but just as engaging were their choices of some "older" material from "The Full Monty" (complete with pelvic thrusts and hip swiveling), the Disney-sounding "Finding Neverland" and perhaps most surprisingly, "Pippin," a veritable dinosaur to these kids
Songs choices were clearly based on youthful angst issues, meaning lots of tunes about first-time experiences, loving yourself before you can love others, the drawn-out pain of heartbreak, yada yada.
Charlemagne was even touched on, but probably my favorite was "Changing My Major to Joan" from "Funhome."
I'm changing my major to sex with Joan
With a minor in kissing Joan
Foreign studies to Joan's inner thighs
A seminar on Joan's ass in her Levis
Besides exposure to new material, there was lots of talent, too, including several people I recognized from Firehouse's current production of Green Day's "American Idiot," like Denver and Kelsey, but all of them satisfying their musical comedy jones by emoting madly through each of their songs.
"I love how comedy is making its way back into musical theater instead of just songs as patter," is how one actor put it.
I love how I can have no plans at 4:00 - Holmes turned me down after a "rough" weekend out of fear for his own weaknesses - yet manage to find a one-day only menu and two very different kinds of music by 5.
Now that's why I should be an example to other patients.
Showing posts with label millie's diner. Show all posts
Showing posts with label millie's diner. Show all posts
Monday, August 1, 2016
Monday, March 7, 2016
Let the Music Play
Millie's was back in the music business tonight, so why not?
My escort made certain we arrived just as the doors opened, ensuring us seats in the soon-to-be-filled-to-overflowing back room, next to a charming older couple who gave us the lowdown on Stone Brewing.
They'd been expecting a river view, only to be disappointed. Unaware that Stone isn't yet brewing here, they had to settle for brought-in bottled beer. And apparently with so much construction equipment still parked around, they drove the circumference several times in search of the industrial-looking tasting room before finding it.
Seems that visit to Stone had been the other day and on their way back, they'd passed Millie's and the husband had commented that it had been years since they'd been to one of Millie's Sunday night music buffets. And then, poof! Just like that, they read that one was happening tonight.
Here they'd thought they'd just been missing out, but actually it was the first time in years Millie's had resurrected the dynamite combo of food and music, a bargain at $5 each, collected by a handsome man in a checked hat and striped shirt with a smile as wide as his face.
We settled into a two-top, ordering easy-drinking Castillo Peralada Brut Rosado from the "Giggle Water" menu because nothing says Sunday night fun like pink bubbles, meanwhile watching the room quickly swell with eager music devotees for what was spontaneously dubbed a "tiny room concert."
Our server alerted us sotto voice that the buffet was ready, so we headed over to score steaming bowls of chicken curry ("I thought we might order it in, but they made it in house," she shared) punctuated with sweet potatoes, chickpeas, onions and a melange of spices with the undercurrent of chili powder for subtle heat, over rice with triangles of pita.
Veggie curry was also an option, but why would we?
A quartet of condiments such as mango chutney, raita and a spicy green tomatillo sauce provided personalizing options. For five bucks, it was a solid meal and we chowed down as the band - acoustic guitar, mandolin and keys - began performing at the back of the room.
Playing a mixture of originals and covers, the Tarrant Trio won over the audience with songs about how it takes a woman like you to get to the man in me and another about the American Dream.
Singer Jordan said to the crowd, "She's coming back," after singing about how "the candle's always lit," but he didn't sound entirely confident that she would.
Even funnier was when he announced that when he'd first moved to town, owner Paul had given him a job as a dishwasher. "I was told repeatedly by every chef here that I was the worst dishwasher ever. I was slow."
"Slow but powerful!" Paul called from the back near where we sat. "That's what she said!"
The song "Cheap Shit from China" included a cheap kazoo solo that he admitted could use a little work and "Front Door" was about moving here, aka the dishwasher period.
Their take on David Allen Coe's "You Never Even Call Me By My Name" even got the cute couple next to us grinning and the missus dancing in her seat. Sometimes, all you need is the mention of Charlie Pride to feel the music on a Sunday night.
During the band's promised "five-minute break" that lasted 20, I ventured downstairs where the jarringly cold basement toilet seat greeted me and hastened the call of duty.
The second set began with the Millie's Diner girls - two women at a front table drinking red wine - joining the band on back-up vocals for "Hey, Good Lookin'." Things were sounding good, voices just the right volume, mandolin breaking your heart, keys tying it all together.
Soon the Tarrant Trio moved into a Beatles' set that seemed to delight most of the people in the room (I'd have danced to "Something" right there between the tables if I'd been asked) before returning to their own sensitive singer-songwriter milieu, in the vein of Townes van Zandt's "If I Needed You," which they'd done earlier.
Thanks, Millie's, for resurrecting a fine tradition with a twist. This new ex-dishwasher series you've got going is excellent.
My escort made certain we arrived just as the doors opened, ensuring us seats in the soon-to-be-filled-to-overflowing back room, next to a charming older couple who gave us the lowdown on Stone Brewing.
They'd been expecting a river view, only to be disappointed. Unaware that Stone isn't yet brewing here, they had to settle for brought-in bottled beer. And apparently with so much construction equipment still parked around, they drove the circumference several times in search of the industrial-looking tasting room before finding it.
Seems that visit to Stone had been the other day and on their way back, they'd passed Millie's and the husband had commented that it had been years since they'd been to one of Millie's Sunday night music buffets. And then, poof! Just like that, they read that one was happening tonight.
Here they'd thought they'd just been missing out, but actually it was the first time in years Millie's had resurrected the dynamite combo of food and music, a bargain at $5 each, collected by a handsome man in a checked hat and striped shirt with a smile as wide as his face.
We settled into a two-top, ordering easy-drinking Castillo Peralada Brut Rosado from the "Giggle Water" menu because nothing says Sunday night fun like pink bubbles, meanwhile watching the room quickly swell with eager music devotees for what was spontaneously dubbed a "tiny room concert."
Our server alerted us sotto voice that the buffet was ready, so we headed over to score steaming bowls of chicken curry ("I thought we might order it in, but they made it in house," she shared) punctuated with sweet potatoes, chickpeas, onions and a melange of spices with the undercurrent of chili powder for subtle heat, over rice with triangles of pita.
Veggie curry was also an option, but why would we?
A quartet of condiments such as mango chutney, raita and a spicy green tomatillo sauce provided personalizing options. For five bucks, it was a solid meal and we chowed down as the band - acoustic guitar, mandolin and keys - began performing at the back of the room.
Playing a mixture of originals and covers, the Tarrant Trio won over the audience with songs about how it takes a woman like you to get to the man in me and another about the American Dream.
Singer Jordan said to the crowd, "She's coming back," after singing about how "the candle's always lit," but he didn't sound entirely confident that she would.
Even funnier was when he announced that when he'd first moved to town, owner Paul had given him a job as a dishwasher. "I was told repeatedly by every chef here that I was the worst dishwasher ever. I was slow."
"Slow but powerful!" Paul called from the back near where we sat. "That's what she said!"
The song "Cheap Shit from China" included a cheap kazoo solo that he admitted could use a little work and "Front Door" was about moving here, aka the dishwasher period.
Their take on David Allen Coe's "You Never Even Call Me By My Name" even got the cute couple next to us grinning and the missus dancing in her seat. Sometimes, all you need is the mention of Charlie Pride to feel the music on a Sunday night.
During the band's promised "five-minute break" that lasted 20, I ventured downstairs where the jarringly cold basement toilet seat greeted me and hastened the call of duty.
The second set began with the Millie's Diner girls - two women at a front table drinking red wine - joining the band on back-up vocals for "Hey, Good Lookin'." Things were sounding good, voices just the right volume, mandolin breaking your heart, keys tying it all together.
Soon the Tarrant Trio moved into a Beatles' set that seemed to delight most of the people in the room (I'd have danced to "Something" right there between the tables if I'd been asked) before returning to their own sensitive singer-songwriter milieu, in the vein of Townes van Zandt's "If I Needed You," which they'd done earlier.
Thanks, Millie's, for resurrecting a fine tradition with a twist. This new ex-dishwasher series you've got going is excellent.
Monday, May 24, 2010
The Birthday Formidable
Birthday dilemma: when you eat out as often as I do, it presents a challenge when deciding where to birthday sup. A Sunday means fewer restaurants open, plus I'd already visited all my regular favorites in the lead-up to the big day.
My partner for the evening suggested Millie's and then rescinded it, saying that she hadn't eaten there in years so who knew how it would be? I was in the same boat; it had been at least four or five years for me. Still, the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea. Besides, the after-party was what mattered and where I'd end up spending most of my birthday evening anyway.
It worked out very well. It was certainly the most chill I've ever seen Millie's and we had a delicious and unrushed meal. She deferred to me in the wine choice since it was my day and I couldn't resist the Mulderbosch Rose, as pretty and pink as a birthday wine should be (South Africa strikes again!).
My friend recalled the Cesar salad there as one of the best in town, so we split that to start; she was right, it was much better than most. She went on to the crispy-skinned duck breast with creamed spinach and saffron potato salad. Totally impressed, she set some of it aside for me to taste; it was incredibly rich with a comfort food feel given those side dishes.
Knowing how well the rose would work with crab (a personal favorite anyway) I ordered the tuna tartare with jump lump crab, sesame cucumber salad, tobiko, jalapeno vinaigrette and poached quail egg. Friend referred to it as deconstructed sushi and that little quail egg provided an accompanying richness to the clean flavors of the tartare.
We'd begun our evening with me opening a fabulous gift from her: a dozen different kinds of exotic chocolate bars. There was a dark chocolate bar with toasted panko and sea salt, another had grains of pistachio, and yet another was Belgian chocolate with hazelnuts. As she pointed out, I can taste and blog on chocolate for months to come.
Despite this wealth of chocolate, I ordered dessert rather than reaching into my gift. We shared the chocolate/orange pot de creme, a dark and creamy delight with cream and orange zest on top. It was funny, the server set the dessert down and then took off like a shot, only to return with a mound of whipped cream on a plate with a lit birthday candle in it. Once again, I made a wish (same one) and blew it out. Dessert done, we left for the big celebration.
I'd invited friends to join me on the patio at Ipanema, anticipating a balmy night, which it was. When I arrived, Rob the bartender wished me a happy birthday and noted that I was a Gemini. I knew his birthday had just passed, so I returned the birthday wishes and asked if he was a Gemini, too. "I'm on the cusp of Taurus and Gemini," he explained, "which makes me a stubborn two-faced bastard." Me, I'm just a multiple personality, who chose Don Julio for her constant companion tonight.
I'd asked a variety of people whose company I especially enjoy for one reason or another, people I knew would increase my enjoyment of my birthday. At one particularly interesting moment, I took stock of the demographic of the group and came up with multiple restaurant types, a photographer, various musicians, a farmer, VCU teaching types, an artist whose work hangs in my house and some media types. And not a normal person among them, myself included.
It was the perfect gathering with people coming and going at different times, but with everyone lingering once they did arrive. Several friends had told me that they had earlier plans and wanted to know how late we'd be celebrating. I assured them that the party wouldn't end until Ipanema closed and we didn't even make that deadline.
A couple of friends had particularly mentioned wanting to finally see me loopy after years of nothing but responsible drinking in front of them. One of the last to leave noted as he stood to go, "Karen I've never seen so much giggling out of you. So this is you loopy."
Or maybe not loopy, but just me having such a better birthday than last year. As one late-leaving guest said, "I don't know which birthday this is for you, but you are absolutely gorgeous."
It was a fiercely fine line on which to head home, happy for more reasons than I'm acknowledging here. And another year older, not that that matters in the least.
My partner for the evening suggested Millie's and then rescinded it, saying that she hadn't eaten there in years so who knew how it would be? I was in the same boat; it had been at least four or five years for me. Still, the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea. Besides, the after-party was what mattered and where I'd end up spending most of my birthday evening anyway.
It worked out very well. It was certainly the most chill I've ever seen Millie's and we had a delicious and unrushed meal. She deferred to me in the wine choice since it was my day and I couldn't resist the Mulderbosch Rose, as pretty and pink as a birthday wine should be (South Africa strikes again!).
My friend recalled the Cesar salad there as one of the best in town, so we split that to start; she was right, it was much better than most. She went on to the crispy-skinned duck breast with creamed spinach and saffron potato salad. Totally impressed, she set some of it aside for me to taste; it was incredibly rich with a comfort food feel given those side dishes.
Knowing how well the rose would work with crab (a personal favorite anyway) I ordered the tuna tartare with jump lump crab, sesame cucumber salad, tobiko, jalapeno vinaigrette and poached quail egg. Friend referred to it as deconstructed sushi and that little quail egg provided an accompanying richness to the clean flavors of the tartare.
We'd begun our evening with me opening a fabulous gift from her: a dozen different kinds of exotic chocolate bars. There was a dark chocolate bar with toasted panko and sea salt, another had grains of pistachio, and yet another was Belgian chocolate with hazelnuts. As she pointed out, I can taste and blog on chocolate for months to come.
Despite this wealth of chocolate, I ordered dessert rather than reaching into my gift. We shared the chocolate/orange pot de creme, a dark and creamy delight with cream and orange zest on top. It was funny, the server set the dessert down and then took off like a shot, only to return with a mound of whipped cream on a plate with a lit birthday candle in it. Once again, I made a wish (same one) and blew it out. Dessert done, we left for the big celebration.
I'd invited friends to join me on the patio at Ipanema, anticipating a balmy night, which it was. When I arrived, Rob the bartender wished me a happy birthday and noted that I was a Gemini. I knew his birthday had just passed, so I returned the birthday wishes and asked if he was a Gemini, too. "I'm on the cusp of Taurus and Gemini," he explained, "which makes me a stubborn two-faced bastard." Me, I'm just a multiple personality, who chose Don Julio for her constant companion tonight.
I'd asked a variety of people whose company I especially enjoy for one reason or another, people I knew would increase my enjoyment of my birthday. At one particularly interesting moment, I took stock of the demographic of the group and came up with multiple restaurant types, a photographer, various musicians, a farmer, VCU teaching types, an artist whose work hangs in my house and some media types. And not a normal person among them, myself included.
It was the perfect gathering with people coming and going at different times, but with everyone lingering once they did arrive. Several friends had told me that they had earlier plans and wanted to know how late we'd be celebrating. I assured them that the party wouldn't end until Ipanema closed and we didn't even make that deadline.
A couple of friends had particularly mentioned wanting to finally see me loopy after years of nothing but responsible drinking in front of them. One of the last to leave noted as he stood to go, "Karen I've never seen so much giggling out of you. So this is you loopy."
Or maybe not loopy, but just me having such a better birthday than last year. As one late-leaving guest said, "I don't know which birthday this is for you, but you are absolutely gorgeous."
It was a fiercely fine line on which to head home, happy for more reasons than I'm acknowledging here. And another year older, not that that matters in the least.
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