Out of the City and Back In

It was meal as mini-vacation.

Four of us drove down and met up with three others in Topping for an afternoon at Merroir.

The date had been set for weeks, so the absolutely perfect weather was a bonus.

We'd still have gone if the forecast had been 100 degrees, but fortunately it wasn't.

Because we arrived before the trio, we claimed the shadiest picnic table nearest the river and the monumental pile of oyster shells.

I went over to say hello to the chef before we all walked over to the dock to admire how green the water was.

And then our true purpose kicked in.

People gotta eat (and drink).

Our smiling server remembered me from my visit three weeks ago, impressing me with her customer recognition skills.

She approved of our choice of a bottle of Wimmer Gruner Veltliner, delivering it in a gallon bucket with an old label proclaiming, "Pittman Bewdley Brand Rapphannock Oysters, Lancaster, VA."

It was the ideal touch to set the tone for our afternoon of seafood eating.

Unable to wait for the trio to start slurping, we got a dozen to tide us over, mixing and matching three kinds of oysters (Rapphannocks, Stingrays and Old Saltes) with three kinds of house made sauce, cocktail, tomatillo cocktail and to-die-for red wine shallot mignonette.

If we'd left after just that part of the adventure, it would have still been noteworthy.

The sky was bright blue, the water a deep green, the breeze non-stop and the shade of the big old tree delicious.

Soon the trio arrived and we all got to eating in earnest.

My partner in crime and I made pigs of ourselves with no apologies.

He at first shunned the lamb and clam stew for fear it would be too heavy a dish, but I insisted and we were rewarded with a cioppino-like broth loaded with ground Border Springs lamb and local Old Salte clams.

I don't think he even minded me being right once he tasted it.

The smoked lamb ribs with peach barbecue sauce were bone-sucking good and one in our party even pilfered a rib from his beloved's plate when she wasn't looking.

Angels on horseback kept the oyster theme going for us, albeit with bacon, which we all know makes everything better.

I felt like we had to try the stuffin' muffin, a tribute to the chef's mom's recipe for using up leftover oyster stuffing after Thanksgiving.

Balls of stuffing were flattened, grilled and covered in a bacon and onion cream sauce for a carb fest that tasted like the holidays even on a July day.

We closed out with a pound of steamed Outer Banks shrimp cooked with celery, onions and Old Bay.

By that time, our group had downed three bottles of wine and untold food.

After a while, I lost track of what others were eating in my own feeding frenzy.

Boats came in and out of the marina, a blue heron sat on a nearby dock and everyone agreed that the river vibe had reduced us to creatures completely relaxed, at times even incoherent.

Less than an hour and a half from the city and we might as well have been in another world.

After gorging, we all wandered down to the dock to dangle our feet in the impossibly-warm water and consider a dip.

It was obvious no one wanted to get in our cars and return to the real world.

For some of us, doing so was possible only because we intend to go back very soon. Very soon.

So back we went over the two bridges and westward home.

The only needs left to be satisfied were dessert and entertainment beyond nature.

We took care of both neatly with a trip to Ipanema, meeting up with another couple still making the river to city adjustment.

Foolishly after an afternoon of much wine and seafood, I ordered the brownie a la mode and my seatmate the apple berry pie a la mode.

Not surprisingly, neither of us did justice to our desserts, but managed to down the Durant White that accompanied them.

Before long, the music for which we'd come began in the form of Friends of Mine, the latest DJ night courtesy  of Jamie, he of the former Blood Brothers before one bro split for NYC.

The idea is that he'll share turntable rights with a different friend every week and tonight's was Cassie Jane.

If tonight was any indication, I'm going to like these friends of mine, who leaned heavily on early '60s rhythm and blues to get the party started.

From the smooth soul stylings of "I'm Your Puppet" to the urgency of "In the Midnight Hour" to the forgotten "Putty in Your Hands," it was a rock solid night of music.

I mean, come on. "Heat Wave," "Piece of My Heart" and the always-classic "Little Bit of Soul"?

People should have been dancing on that beautiful new bar with that kind of music being cranked out.

It was a long way from a picnic bench by the Rappahannock, but if we had to come back to the heat of the city, this was the way to end it.

Leave it to friends of mine to put an exclamation point at the end of a stellar day.