Beach of the Food Gods Playing Jazz

"Tonight is not a birthday celebration," was how my smiling friend began the evening.

I was okay with that. Instead, we were meeting for dinner at Aziza's because it was time after a month of not seeing each other. He brought me a gift from NYC of a bialy, a flat and an egg bagel.

And, because he's from NYC, he instructed me on how they should be heated and eaten. Some friends have all the nerve.

But some friends also have compatible food tastes and great conversational skills, so we ordered a bottle of Twin Vines Vino Verde to kick off the non-celebration.

It was Tapas Tuesday at Aziza's, so there were nine amazing choices, none of which I'd ever seen on their menu before. And these were not small tapas.

We began with lamb sweetbreads and pork belly with wild mushrooms, asparagus and soft-boiled egg because, as my friend said, "If we don't eat it now, we'll be too full later." It's hard to argue with that kind of twisted logic.

The sweetbreads had the creamiest texture, the oozing egg made a rich dish richer, and who doesn't love pork belly?

I suggested we switch gears to something a trifle lighter for the next course by choosing lump crab and white anchovy salad with Manakintowne radishes, turnips and basil sauce.

A circular mound of crabmeat had thin-sliced radish and turnips between layers of the greenless salad with the anchovies on top. The Long Island guy loved it as much as I did, although he ribbed me about eating "light."

I can't seem to stop eating softshelled crabs lately, and the ones on this menu were no exception. The accompanying corn, haricot vert, fava bean and Parmesan sauce was a decadent take on succotash we both agreed, and perfect with the crispy fried softshell.

Tucking into my plate, my ladylike appetite and I finished way before my friend did. Laughing, he told me how much he loves my enthusiasm for eating (that and my forthrightness).

This friend likes to be my personal life coach, so he wanted to hear about my meager dating attempts and advise me on the nature of me.

Mostly I wanted to laugh as he politely told me I don't have a chance of meeting someone right for me because I'm so odd uniquely different. It takes a good friend to throw the cold water in your face.

We tried to do the traditional Aziza thing and finish with a cream puff, but barely made a dent in it after our outstanding meal.

As my friend said near the end of the night, "That's the best meal I've had in a  while." Amen, brother and I've been wined and dined a lot of late.

Then my evening moved from the Bottom west to the Camel for Glows in the Dark's CD release party and show.

Opening were New York's Zaha, an experimental jazz group on a five-city tour who we managed to snag as they come south. Jazz lovers were everywhere in the crowd.

It was fascinating to watch because one member of the band used sound-painting, which is a universal sign language for live composition. Sometimes he played keyboards, but mostly he shaped the music in front of our eyes.

So he stood facing the musicians, gesturing with his hands, head and body to create music as we watched. I'd never seen anything like it, but it took the music to a whole different level, especially visually.

Headliner Glows in the Dark was playing music from their new album "Beach of the War Gods," comprised of songs inspired by movies and no one riffs on movie music quite as well as Glows in the Dark.

At one point group leader and composer Scott Burton asked how many people had phones with Internet capability.

Although it was only four or five, which surprised me, he instructed them to look up "Gary Glitter Glows in the Dark" so they could watch a  video of the song while it was being played live.

Absence of phone aside, I had no desire to watch a video when I could be watching five of RVA's best jazz musicians play new music.

For that, you could call me old-fashioned. And as my friend pointed out, you could call me uniquely different. Just please call me to eat.

Let Me Entertain You

A close friend who's in the service industry once suggested that the ideal business for me would be entertaining out-of-towners.

Her reasoning was that I'm familiar with the local restaurant scene, I always know the interesting cultural stuff that's going on and I can find common conversational ground with anyone.

She was sure that local businesses would hire me to entertain their out-of-town clients in the evening so they wouldn't have to; she was equally as sure that I'd be a natural at it.

So what did I do tonight?

How about spend an evening with an out-of-towner I'd met recently, here, introducing him to places he'd never been and talking about his former hometown Dallas, a city I've visited repeatedly, and his current one, RVA, about which I have a thing or two to say.

I hadn't been hired, but I think that if it had been a job interview, I'd have been offered the position by now.

We began at Mezzanine, a place I hadn't been to since before the Mission of Burma show in February.

That night, there'd been snow on the ground and the girls and I had sat on the heated patio shivering as we gorged.

Tonight, it was so muggy that an inside bar table seemed infinitely more appealing.

Twin Vines Vino Verdhe also helped me forget the heat, while he went with the Villa Pozzi Pinot Grigio.

He started with the fried Washington oyster special (five for $10 and a "steal," according to our server) and I had the tomato stack layered with goat and Feta cheeses.

He hates raw tomatoes and loves red sauce. I love raw tomatoes and can live without red sauce. Between us, we had all the bases covered.

Despite the hot and humid evening, I opted for the braised short ribs with local grits and hoison, mainly because it came in an appetizer-sized portion, although it necessitated I switch to the Alegoria Malbec.

He had another special, the seared sashimi-grade tuna with wasabi mashed potatoes and a stir-fried veggie medley.

Both portions were overly-generous and neither of us cleaned our plates.

Although I had not finished my dinner, I did order dessert (chocolate Kahlua mousse with toffee bits), breaking my mother's cardinal rule that you had to eat everything on your plate or you didn't get dessert.

I think I'm entitled; I choked down more than a few gray green beans in my childhood for the sake of some chocolate pudding.

Afterwards, the man from Dallas suggested a walk down Cary Street and we ended up at Bin 22 for a couple of glasses of Bigi est Montefiascone (he attributed his affinity for Pinot Grigio to his family's roots in the region) and a discussion of the nature of South Africans (his employer has an office there) and people-watching in NYC.

Walking back up Cary Street, I felt optimistic that I had been both informational and good company.

As a result of the evening, he now knew of two new restaurants.

He'd also added the First Fridays Artwalk to his calendar and had the scoop on the Richmond Forum, both new bits of information to him and gleaned from me tonight.

I'll tell you what, as far-fetched as it sounds, my friend may have been on to something.