No Sleep Blues

My hat is off to those of you who claim you can get by on four hours of sleep.

Not me. I'm a nine hours of sleep per night type, although I'll make do with eight when necessary. I don't toss and turn as a rule and I'm a stranger to insomnia.

But damned if I didn't wake up at 6 a.m. and never get back to sleep this morning. Later in the day, when I told someone I'd gotten up at 6, the response was an incredulous, "A.M.?"

I tried taking a nap mid-day between appointments and even then, my body was having none of it. There was nothing else to do but carry on fatigued.

So after interviewing a Parisian-born artist, I said yes to being a passenger for a drive to downtown Opal and Granite Heights Winery. And, just for the record, they have no granite to speak of. Quartz, yes, flint, plenty, but no actual granite.

Semantics.

The owners were an interesting couple who grow grapes and make wine in their spare time. He's a patent attorney and the winemaker when he's not doing lawyerly things. She runs the tasting room and the vineyards.

What was refreshing about them is that they're not doing it for their livelihood, which allows them to make decisions based on their beliefs and not the almighty dollar.

Consequently, no weddings or events. Very few festivals. No grand tasting room for photo ops and bachelorette parties.

In other words, smart people passionate about wine growing and making.

Their tasting room was in an old white clapboard house with large windows with views of the vineyards. We tasted through the available wines listening to them tell us about the learning curve on making wine.

The winemaker was an unabashed fan of Petit Manseng, singing the praises of the grape, particularly with salty foods. He'd even held a tailgate party to serve chips, barbecue and turkey with gravy to prove how well it paired with salt.

Sipping the beauty while noshing on cheese and crackers was just further proof while we listened to the winemaker describe their new wind machines, designed to keep cold air moving off grapes on nights when the temperature drops precipitously low.

After procuring a bottle of the Petit Manseng as well as one of humility 2010 (I love the lower case "h"), an appealing red blend, we bade the owners farewell.

Time for an early supper at Black Bear Bistro in Warrenton. The restaurant itself was a warren of rooms, each leading to another, down stairs, past three separate bars, through doors until we began to feel like we were in a carnival fun house. To add to the oddness, different music played in each room.

The entertaining host - a theater major I'd wager - led us to a room with stone walls, cheesy paneling, a black ceiling and a huge fireplace with Christmas decorations still on the mantel. We were the sole occupants.

As it turned out, it was Macaroni Monday, no doubt a local favorite, but we decided to pass. The menu was written like a story with blurbs between menu items explaining that the chef had gone to the vegetable patch (cue salad listings) or going upscale (steak on the salad). Menu humor.

My companion couldn't resist beef stroganoff since it rarely shows up at restaurants. The beef may not have been as tender as some like it, but I also noticed the bowl was emptied shortly, including the dollop of sour cream it arrived with.

I admit to a pedestrian choice of chicken salad but in my defense, my brain was also operating at 40 30 20% power after so little sleep and pointing to the first thing on the sandwich menu was easy.

As we ate, the floor above us reverberated as if they were having a dance party upstairs (they weren't), adding to the cacophony of competing music stations.

Or maybe the Karma fairies were trying to keep me awake.

I'm proud to say I got through the drive home without nodding off, but part of that was taking in the splendor of the sunset as we made our way away from the mountains.

But if I'd been asked to summon proper nouns or recall dates, it could have gotten embarrassing. As it was, I just stayed quiet for the most part.

To those who know me, that may be as noteworthy as my brief night of sleep. To sleep, perchance zzzzz....

The Revolving Barstool, or Next!

Story of my life: I went out for a drink and met a restaurant owner. Again. How do they find me?

After my massive meat lunch, I wasn't much in the mood for dinner, but a glass of wine sounded good so I went to Secco. There were two seats at the end of the bar and I took one. The other was to be filled with a revolving cast of talkative couples who would sit and chat for a bit and then move on to a table. Easy come, easy go.

Because the menu promised a Vino Verde unlike any other, I went with the Casa de Mouraz Mica Vino Verde and was rewarded with far more minerality than is typical. My first couple were most enjoyable conversationalists, charming and funny. We got in a discussion of a red wine described as having overtones of bacon. "Bacon makes everything better, " I offered. "Not if you've been a vegetarian for 20 years," she laughed.

Although they go out a lot, they had a tendency to go to the same places so she asked me for a restaurant recommendation for afterwards, I suggested Sprout knowing they could please her and still give him his meat. Interestingly, she asked if I was single and inquired as to how frequently I got asked out when I was out. Let's just say it happens.

Meanwhile, in a vain attempt to mitigate the meat feast earlier, I had the mixed field greens with Caramont chevre, pistachios and lemon thyme vinaigrette. It was a very good salad and I felt better for finally having added a little greenery to my body today.

My next couple and I debated relativity. I asked him if they lived in the neighborhood and he said no. "So you couldn't walk home if you had to?" I inquired. No. When he asked where I lived, I said it would be a two-mile walk for me home. All of a sudden, he was correcting himself. "Well, it's only a mile and a half for me, so I could walk it." It was funny how it became walkable for him once he learned I was willing to walk further. Must have been the competitive type.

Looking for something new, I ordered the Benaza Godello based on its promise of peach and zestiness, both of which delivered. About then Farouk walked in with friends, a sure sign he was not working behind the bar tonight. That's when I was introduced to the owner of a Warrenton eatery, Carl.

He too was raised in the DC area, so we compared growing up stories, of being the minority in our high schools, our still-in-love parents and the importance of the journey, not the destination in life. His parents live in Berlin and since I'd just seen an exhibit of street art from Berlin, we got into a great discussion of art and culture. Even better, he's as much a music fanatic as I am, except he also does music production. Once he discovered I knew Thievery Corporation, we were off and running.

When Farouk realized that it was my mix being played, he made a point of going behind the bar and turning up the volume for all to hear. It was great because that enabled Carl to use my song choices as jumping off points for musical discussion (hearing the National on the mix, he asked, "So you were a Joy Division fan?" Bingo). You couldn't have shut us up.

Coincidentally, at the start of the evening, I had met a girl who had just returned from eight years in Italy. She's looking for an apartment in Jackson Ward for herself and her 15-year old dog (been there, done that, got the heartache for it) to no avail.

I was telling her about all the wonderful things that have changed in RVA since she left (the VMFA, Center Stage, the National) and when I asked why she'd decided to return here, she said simply, "I missed Richmond. It's so great here."

Craig's List having failed her so far, I promised to keep an eye out for For Rent signs in the 'hood and let her know what I found. Vacating her bar stool, I'd told her to send in a talkative replacement, preferably a nerdy guy looking for friendship. "I'll look for glasses or a guy reading a book, " she promised.

And in comes a restaurant owner who's into music and makes a point of enjoying life. Wait, that's not nerdy friend material...or is it?