Getting caught in the midst of a cocktail meet-up for recent UVA graduates is more challenging than you might think.
They're loud talkers, everyone has a sob story about their job ("I already have an exit strategy") and they're there to network like there's no tomorrow ("I sent you an e-vite, but you never responded"). And they lean over barsitters as if they're not there. I mean, I'm short, but I'm visible.
I know this only because I met a friend at Lemaire tonight and the only two open stools we could find were on the fringes of the UVA group, which continued to grow for about two hours before finally leveling off as people left or took tables to form smaller dinner groups. We were hoarse by the time they thinned out.
Meanwhile, we were just trying to catch up after an inadvertent hiatus since before Thanksgiving. He started with a heavily bruised martini while I ordered a bottle of Fuedo Maccari Syrah Nero D'Alva Renoto for us both to share once he'd gotten his gin fix.
It was one of the $10 Discovery wines for tonight, so the bottle was cheaper than his one drink. Clearly Wednesdays are for winos at Lemaire.
His first and most urgent questions were about my personal life and what progress I had made since our last get-together, apparently a major topic that night, at least the way he remembers it.
He had set his sights unrealistically high, but I filled him in on some of the more amusing evenings and promising people of the past two months. Still, I don't think anything short of an engagement would have impressed him.
To sustain us during such deep conversation, we got the cornmeal-crusted Chesapeake Bay oysters and slaw, the brandy peppercorn-dusted beef tartare and a cheese plate with Humbolt Fog and Tillamook cheddar with fruit. The oysters were a sweet reminder of the pleasures of an "R" month.
He gave me his usual "you need a cell phone" lecture and I ignored it as usual. He told me he'd been repeating the story of how when I'd tried to call him the other day, I'd gotten someone else with his name instead. He thought that was hysterical, while I just thought it was typical of my life.
We talked about a mutual friend who's madly in love and a much sunnier person as a result of it (he said it was the sex, but I like to be a tad more romantic than that) and agreed how nice it is to watch smitten types when they're together.
Part of the reason we first started hanging out together is our eating habits, so he recommended the chicken livers at Joe's Inn and I told him about the warm pate I'd had at the Berkeley last week (he'd never had it warmed, either).
We talked about what rebels we are for eating raw beef and cookie dough, although we're quite sure people have been ingesting both for centuries without a problem.
As we walked out four hours later, his final advice to me was to get busier on my personal life so I'll have more to share when we get together next (fact: married people always want to hear single people stories).
His only concern is that he likes me exactly the way I am now and if, like our friend, I get sunnier all of a sudden, he's not sure how he'll like me.
But he seems to be willing to take the risk to find out.
Showing posts with label beef tartare. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beef tartare. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Rainy Nights and Mondays
When Friday, Saturday or Sunday don't work out for friends to get together, there's always Monday. My friend had had the day from hell at work and I had prior commitments for every day she suggested us meeting this week and before you know it, tonight seemed like the perfect fallback.
With slim pickins for restaurants on Blue Monday, we defaulted to Lemaire. Open every day and with a guaranteed bar until midnight, it's the go-to place on off nights and times. The Discovery wine list has a nice selection of wine gems all under $30 and we always seem to find people eager to chat, so it's practically a no-brainer.
While waiting for her to arrive, a guy sat down near me and pondered what to order. I recommended the Berkshire pork chop, telling him that Paula Deen had ordered it when she'd come to Lemaire recently.
I didn't bother mentioning that they'd been out of it that day and she'd had to settle for her second choice. In any case, he took me at my word, thanking me later for steering him right on that big ole chop (enjoyed with two Dogfish 60-minute IPAs).
Another guy near him got the over-the-top barnyard burger ( sunny side up egg, bacon and duck foie gras sauce) and suggested I get a napkin and have part of it with him. Tempted as I was, I demurred. I can't share burgers with every strange man who asks.
My friend's hectic day and the rain had slowed down her arrival and by the time she sat down, she practically needed an IV for the bottle of Haras sauvignon blanc we ordered. She announced that tonight's topic was OPP (other people's problems) and proceeded to tell me some juicy ones.
I finally interrupted because while the wine was going down easily enough, I was starving. I had the hearts of romaine followed by the brandy peppercorn-dusted beef tartare with horseradish and she got the filet mignon burger with a side of black-eyed peas (the barnyard burger containing too many exotic components for her taste). Food finally!
Our bartender Mark, who had served us just a few weeks ago when we'd been in, came over to me at one point, beaming. "Beruit!" he told me with obvious satisfaction.
During my last visit, we'd had an extensive music chat and while trying to make a point, the name of the band he wanted to use as an example had escaped him. It had finally come back when he saw me and he shared it with obvious pride. Now we could finish our chat.
My friend was feeling better about her harried day after we ate, although still checking her phone far too often for my taste. We ordered the Barboursville Pinot Grigio, also off the Discovery list, and were finally getting to OLL (our love lives) when two smiling faces appeared unexpectedly next to my stool.
It was RVA's two best mixologists, Bobby from Julep and Arthur from Acacia, who'd come over to say hello and chat. I never get to see these two together (well, except at Bobby's housewarming party and that's a bit vague), so it was great fun to have them both in front of me at once.
Bobby has been promising me that he'll do a tequila tasting at Julep for months. At his high-end rum tasting a while back, customers were treated to some of the most inspired and obscure rums imaginable while Bobby cooked up delicious small plates to accompany each one.
I wanted to see the same done for my beloved tequilas and was thrilled to hear that it's finally going to happen ("Although you know more about tequila than I do," Bobby insisted.) He already has Arthur and me as confirmed guests, despite Arthur's smart-assed comment that "Tequila is the new vodka." Say it isn't so.
Once they went off to eat and watch football, my friend and I resumed our wine-fueled conversation. She's very much enjoying watching me start a process she began months ago, so I was peppered with suggestions about how to handle my new choices.
I may be out of practice, but I think I can figure it out as I go along. No fallback necessary.
With slim pickins for restaurants on Blue Monday, we defaulted to Lemaire. Open every day and with a guaranteed bar until midnight, it's the go-to place on off nights and times. The Discovery wine list has a nice selection of wine gems all under $30 and we always seem to find people eager to chat, so it's practically a no-brainer.
While waiting for her to arrive, a guy sat down near me and pondered what to order. I recommended the Berkshire pork chop, telling him that Paula Deen had ordered it when she'd come to Lemaire recently.
I didn't bother mentioning that they'd been out of it that day and she'd had to settle for her second choice. In any case, he took me at my word, thanking me later for steering him right on that big ole chop (enjoyed with two Dogfish 60-minute IPAs).
Another guy near him got the over-the-top barnyard burger ( sunny side up egg, bacon and duck foie gras sauce) and suggested I get a napkin and have part of it with him. Tempted as I was, I demurred. I can't share burgers with every strange man who asks.
My friend's hectic day and the rain had slowed down her arrival and by the time she sat down, she practically needed an IV for the bottle of Haras sauvignon blanc we ordered. She announced that tonight's topic was OPP (other people's problems) and proceeded to tell me some juicy ones.
I finally interrupted because while the wine was going down easily enough, I was starving. I had the hearts of romaine followed by the brandy peppercorn-dusted beef tartare with horseradish and she got the filet mignon burger with a side of black-eyed peas (the barnyard burger containing too many exotic components for her taste). Food finally!
Our bartender Mark, who had served us just a few weeks ago when we'd been in, came over to me at one point, beaming. "Beruit!" he told me with obvious satisfaction.
During my last visit, we'd had an extensive music chat and while trying to make a point, the name of the band he wanted to use as an example had escaped him. It had finally come back when he saw me and he shared it with obvious pride. Now we could finish our chat.
My friend was feeling better about her harried day after we ate, although still checking her phone far too often for my taste. We ordered the Barboursville Pinot Grigio, also off the Discovery list, and were finally getting to OLL (our love lives) when two smiling faces appeared unexpectedly next to my stool.
It was RVA's two best mixologists, Bobby from Julep and Arthur from Acacia, who'd come over to say hello and chat. I never get to see these two together (well, except at Bobby's housewarming party and that's a bit vague), so it was great fun to have them both in front of me at once.
Bobby has been promising me that he'll do a tequila tasting at Julep for months. At his high-end rum tasting a while back, customers were treated to some of the most inspired and obscure rums imaginable while Bobby cooked up delicious small plates to accompany each one.
I wanted to see the same done for my beloved tequilas and was thrilled to hear that it's finally going to happen ("Although you know more about tequila than I do," Bobby insisted.) He already has Arthur and me as confirmed guests, despite Arthur's smart-assed comment that "Tequila is the new vodka." Say it isn't so.
Once they went off to eat and watch football, my friend and I resumed our wine-fueled conversation. She's very much enjoying watching me start a process she began months ago, so I was peppered with suggestions about how to handle my new choices.
I may be out of practice, but I think I can figure it out as I go along. No fallback necessary.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Festive and Nonchalant at Lemaire
What with it nearly the big day, my friend suggested we meet for a festive drink and I can think of no place in rva more holiday-adorned than the Jefferson. We met in the Rotunda to ogle the big tree, the folk art Santa figures, the elaborate wreaths and the sheer quantity of poinsettias around the base of every single palm tree. It's easy to imagine how this sparkling setting wows out-of-towners considering how bowled over a couple of long-time residents like us were.
Then it was a sweep up the grand staircase to the downscaled Lemaire. Our bartender, a Long Island boy who had to learn to use "sir" and "ma'am" when he moved south, greased the wheels for a fine evening. We began with quartinos of Old Vine Garnacha Las Rocas de Alejandro Catalayud 2006 and Malbec Lonko Patagonia 2005 and moved on to Tempura Green Asparagus with coarse sea salt and Parmesan and roasted garlic aioli and Brandy Peppercorn-Dusted Beef tartare with shaved Parmesan, micro arugula and horseradish sauce.
Dessert was Chocolate Grand Marnier terrine with vanilla bean ice cream and a dusting of cinnamon. Hard as it is for me to acknowledge this, the vanilla ice cream may have been even better than the chocolate terrine. I can't believe I just wrote that.
We saw lots of pretty people, including arts patron Pam Reynolds, looking chic as always, and several bored and entitled-looking young couples barely speaking to each other. Next to us was an older couple traveling from Maryland to Florida; the Jefferson was as far as they'd gotten in their travels today. They didn't seem to mind the early stop and overnight stay at the Jefferson in the least. Or perhaps it was always the goal
And lest you doubt that Lemaire is noticeably more casual than it used to be, on a visit to the Ladies' Room, I encountered a Jefferson employee folding towels in there. The employee was a man. But rather than make apologies or back out of the room, he merely indicated the larger of the two stalls to me, finished up his folding and discretely exited. Now that's the kind of nonchalance you would have never seen at the old Lemaire.
Then it was a sweep up the grand staircase to the downscaled Lemaire. Our bartender, a Long Island boy who had to learn to use "sir" and "ma'am" when he moved south, greased the wheels for a fine evening. We began with quartinos of Old Vine Garnacha Las Rocas de Alejandro Catalayud 2006 and Malbec Lonko Patagonia 2005 and moved on to Tempura Green Asparagus with coarse sea salt and Parmesan and roasted garlic aioli and Brandy Peppercorn-Dusted Beef tartare with shaved Parmesan, micro arugula and horseradish sauce.
Dessert was Chocolate Grand Marnier terrine with vanilla bean ice cream and a dusting of cinnamon. Hard as it is for me to acknowledge this, the vanilla ice cream may have been even better than the chocolate terrine. I can't believe I just wrote that.
We saw lots of pretty people, including arts patron Pam Reynolds, looking chic as always, and several bored and entitled-looking young couples barely speaking to each other. Next to us was an older couple traveling from Maryland to Florida; the Jefferson was as far as they'd gotten in their travels today. They didn't seem to mind the early stop and overnight stay at the Jefferson in the least. Or perhaps it was always the goal
And lest you doubt that Lemaire is noticeably more casual than it used to be, on a visit to the Ladies' Room, I encountered a Jefferson employee folding towels in there. The employee was a man. But rather than make apologies or back out of the room, he merely indicated the larger of the two stalls to me, finished up his folding and discretely exited. Now that's the kind of nonchalance you would have never seen at the old Lemaire.
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