The Way We Get By

Few things are as charming to witness as a man falling in love.

A lavish lunch lasted until nearly 4:00 because there was so much to talk about, namely that he can't even look at her Instagram feed without fixating on her lips and wishing he was kissing them.

Honestly, just being around someone so utterly under a woman's spell feeds my soul.

Luckily, we built a walk into our lunch outing so we'd have plenty of time for discussion of other matters, too, but by the time I got home, it was time to get ready to go out for the evening.

Climbing over a man in the prime row at the smallish Criterion Cinema, I was surprised when I heard him say, "Karen?"

Sure enough, it was one of my play-going cohorts who, like me, manages to make it to most of the local art theater's offerings - especially when the movies are about to change - for the sake of seeing the more obscure films that make their way to Richmond.

Tonight it was "Elvis & Nixon," appealing to me on many levels - the '70s era it depicted, Kevin Spacey as Nixon and even the surreal notion that these two oddballs ever ate M & Ms and Dr. Peppers together - despite being distributed by Amazon Studios, and who knew they were even in the movie business, although no one will be surprised when they take over the world, either.

Fun fact: the official photograph of Nixon and Elvis taken at the White House that day is the National Archives' most requested picture.

Let's pause for a moment to consider what that says about us as a people. Even the moon landing shots take a backseat to the King and Dick.

The soundtrack, succinct but evocative, ranged from "Hold On, I'm Coming" to "Spinning Wheel," an effective cross-section of the time. At least it wasn't the usual hackneyed choices.

Yes, of course, I reveled in the cultural history details: ceramic coffee mugs on planes, multiple phones for bigwigs so they could multi-task, Secret Service agents fawning rather than protecting White House occupants.

But I also recall the 1970 photograph of the President and Elvis and that was enough to pique my curiosity about the unlikely tete a tete, even if Michael Shannon did make for a gruesome looking Elvis.

After watching a hippie-hating Elvis appeal to a war-mongering president, there wasn't much to do but go drink to forget.

Luckily, tonight was Secco's sixth anniversary, making for a full house, far too many amateurs and a killer flight of 2010 wines: Marguet "10" Grand Cru Champagne, Defaix Chablis and Sella Brammaterra, an understated mostly Nebbiolo gem to close out the flight.

Next to me was a couple with a bag from For the Love of Chocolate who, raised by wolves as they apparently were, saw no problem in pulling out pieces of candy and eating them at Secco's bar as they sipped their wine.

I was nothing short of overjoyed when a staff member informed them that this was not a good idea, which put them in a huff, causing them to leave soon after. Since when is it okay to bring food into a restaurant, children?

Meanwhile, a couple on a date took over two tables with their food and belongings, but my sense was that the date wasn't going very well because the woman kept disappearing into the bathroom (four times in 15 minutes, whoa) while he continued to shovel in food, seemingly oblivious to the red flag.

With the anniversary celebration public knowledge, it was an understandably lively vibe with people continuing to arrive as lights were dimmed and music went from Portishead to Spoon, making for a decidedly more upbeat vibe.

It was the regulars who benefited when it was discovered that a bottle of Pierre Paillard Grand Cru Brut Champagne had mistakenly been opened and its creamy contents shared among the fortunate few. Timing is everything and I was happy to be in the right place at the right time.

Olli Calabrese and Chateau les Valentines Rose took me through the home stretch, wherein I was warned that the full moon falls on Friday the thirteenth, that some people have never heard of a digestif and that dish pits make men out of boys.

And hopefully, the best kind of men: the type who wind up utterly in love and unable to think about anything else but her.

That, my friend, is a high as good as a bottle of Pierre Paillard. Or so I've heard.

Sword Fighting and Sea Bass

Let's just sum up my evening by calling it Agecroft afore Acacia. And, really, how better to follow up swordplay than with seafood? No need to answer that; it's a rhetorical question about the events of my evening.

"Sword Fighting: From Shakespeare to the Present" at Agecroft was an hour and a half of lecture and demonstration of men with weapons. Unlike now, back in Shakespeare's time men were trained in weaponry, making them an educated audience at his plays. In fact, having a weapon-savvy audience informed how he wrote.

Tonight's talk/demonstration spanned the period between medieval and modern times. Starting with the sword and buckler (an offensive or defensive shield-like device), medieval training manuals depicted the first known fencing student as a woman. Leave it to my people to set a trend for civilized fighting.

Next in weaponry was the long sword, which established distance as driving the dynamics of the duel. With this weapon, fighting was circular rather than static. And the stroke of wrath was exactly what it sounds like: deadly.

Tonight's demonstration continued through the rapier, which had a length limit which was measured at the entry points to the city of London (36" or the rest of it was whacked off before entry). Young toughs who walked the streets with their bucklers clanging against their swords were referred to as swashbucklers. Fun fact learned and stored.

The broadsword apparently transitioned weaponry from the medieval times to the modern. The small sword came next and that's what we saw on Civil War officers in this country.

The lecture and demonstration ended with a fencing round or several, refereed by an electronic device that measured hits. The cord attachments and flashing lights took a bit of the romance out of fencing, I have to say, but it is still fascinating to watch.

Leaving Windsor Farms, I went to Acacia for their mini-wine dinner, a tribute to southern France with Brandon Brown of Potomac Selections. I'd made my reservation at the bar and was ready to return to the drinking world after a short recovery period post-birthday extravaganza.

The meal began with olive-oil poached lobster escabeche style, grapefruit supreme, fennel and basil paired with 2008 Domaine La Bastide Roussane and the pairing was just beautiful. The generous lobster portion was an elegant first course.

Following that was the house-cured floral bacon (yummy beyond words), cress lettuces, pepino melon, American-style Roquefort, poppy seed dressing and it married beautifully to the amber-colored 2009 Chateau Les Valentines Rose de Provence. The bacon, always a welcome addition to any dish, was superb; we could have eaten a plate of that, the wine rep Brandon and I agreed.

I passed on the duck (it had been only three days since my last duck after all) and went for the bouillabaisse braised Mediterranean sea bass, sourdough bread and sea urchin touille with the 2006 Domaine Monpertuis Counoise. Brandon said I could impress all my wine geek friends by simply telling them I'd had multiple glasses of a 100% Counoise, apparently a rare occurrence in the wine world. Geek friends take note and assign points, please.

The crowd around me provided various entertainments including a proposal from a man just arrived from his mom's funeral ("Maybe we should be married") and, from a visitor from Connecticut/Chicago, a different kind of suggestion ("I'd like to kiss you."). What the...? Is the moon full or could it be the heat? The evening finished with a drink with a stranger at Can Can (who knew that at closing time bags of leftover bread were distributed to bar customers? Chocolate croissant, baguette and cinnamon raisin roll were in mine). Nothing like jumping back into the deep water.

The take-away from tonight's escapades? The higher the arm of the swordsman, the more noble the fighter. Also, the cachet of a blending grape as a stand-alone wine can not be understated.

And most unimportant of all, bacon makes everything better.