I Feel a Song Coming On

Ladies who lunch have many options, but few with as stellar a view as Amuse.

A friend had invited me to lunch as thanks for helping her brainstorm a venue for an upcoming shindig she was planning.

I suggested, she checked it out and kindly offered up food in repayment. It's not often my oddball expertise yields a lovely meal.

Not surprisingly, the dining room was just about completely filled except the bar, making it a lively place to catch up.

It had been ages since we'd seen each other although she sometimes reads the blog, so she tends to know more of what's going on in my life than I do hers.

She and her husband raise guide dogs for the blind, so I am always eager to hear about her latest trainee, this time a young thing named Vera.

Vera, it seems, is not yet up to the standards of Amuse so she hadn't brought her. "McDonald's maybe," she joked.

When our server arrived, he looked at me, smiled and observed, "I've waited on you before." I didn't want to harsh his mellow, but who hasn't?

We both started with the roasted baby beet salad with Caramont Farms chevre and lemon yogurt over an appealing array of Manakintowne greens, artfully presented on a long, narrow white plate.

I loved hearing about her trips to NYC for what she called "provisioning," meaning the acquisition of things she can't get here.

Things like potato knishes and bialies. Trips where the two of them happily walk from the upper east side to Times Square without thinking twice about the distance.

I laughed when she described how she drags her musical-hating husband to see them, inevitably getting pained looks from him when actors start bursting into song.

Hey, at least he goes.

She chose the pan-seared scallops over French lentils and I had to agree after a couple of bites that it was superbly done, lentils toothsome and scallops with a fine, delicate crust.

I had a bowl of Moroccan chickpea stew topped with gremolata and full of squash, a satisfyingly warm and tasty choice on a gray day.

We weren't going to get dessert, really we weren't, but ended up with creme caramel and fresh berries anyway.

The server who brought that is also a friend and when complimented on her new earrings, told me there was a story there and that I needed to come to her bar soon for an update.

I'm always looking to gather new information, so chances are she'll see me soon.

Maybe if I keep increasing my knowledge base, I can look forward to helping more friends who want to reward me with food.

At the very least, at least it gives me something to do between meals.

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.

Irish Girl Needs Jewish Guy to Eat Polish Rolls

A month ago I didn't even know what a bialy was and today, thanks to my friend Gregg, I had one of these delicious crusty-bottomed rolls with the trademark onion flakes for the first time, thoroughly enjoying its bready and oniony goodness.

Gregg has been teasing me with tales of the elusive bialy for a good while, all the time making sure that I understood that they are not available in these parts. But to my great good fortune, he just got back from a trip to Long Island and didn't forget his bialy virgin buddy (namely me). When we met up this morning, I was presented with two of these gems.

Being the amazing cook that he is, Gregg was very specific about the proper procedure for proceeding with my induction into the bialy world. I was to put it in the oven to warm and soften it, but not allow it to reach the crusty stage. Unlike a bagel, a bialy isn't boiled before baking, so Gregg promised all the bagel goodness without the trademark chewiness. Not that I have anything against a good chewy bagel, but I was ready to go Polish. With a schmear, of course.

I may be late to the bialy bandwagon, but thank goodness I have a friend looking to bring me up to speed, ethnically speaking. Our friendship began because we both eat just about anything and wanted the pleasure of eating out together. I don't think he knew he'd be schooling me along the way.

Whatever the reason, this bialy virgin has been deflowered. Lucky for me, I have a supplier.