Leave it to a fellow Gemini to give me the best birthday eve celebration ever.
Because, as we all know, the first rule of a birthday eve is to tease the imminent holiday, but not overshadow it with too much celebration, lest it eclipse the main event.
Only a fellow Gemini can walk that fine line.
First she picks me up, tells me how nice I look and then she takes me to Enoteca Sogno.
The restaurant is not too busy, the owner greets us at the door and we decide to sit at the bar when he says he will be our server.
Because we got a late start, we have already missed out on the soft-shelled crab appetizer, but not the other specials.
"We're going to eat until we die," my friend announces, apropos of nothing.
Can do.
There are two Roses on the menu and in appropriate birthday eve-fashion, we ask for one of each.
My favorite is the Argiolas Serra Lori, tasting of berries and herbs, although the other Rose (made from Nebbiolo) is a close second, especially once food arrives.
Friend engages the owner in talk of Italy and it is a discussion that continues unabated throughout the night.
I have made only one visit to Italy, my friend has made two and our host boasts of sixteen, a number we cannot begin to compete with.
He mentions friends about to embark on their first trip to Italy, planning to spend three days each in Florence, Rome and Venice.
I've only been to Italy once and even I know what a bad idea that is.
Three days in Florence? Three days?
I spent a week and it wasn't close to enough, so how could any human being be satisfied with a mere three days?
Our host seems to think they just want to be able to check off three Italian cities off their bucket list.
Tragic.
But it's not our problem, so we move on to more pressing issues, like food.
She starts with a beet and orange salad while I jump straight to meat with a plate of Olli salumeria, letting the kitchen choose my three varieties.
I end up with three Italians: Toscano (notes of fennel), Napoli (smoked) and Molisano (pepper and garlic), all with just enough fat to make the wine come alive.
As we eat the salami, we hear that Olli is planning to sell their products in B.J.'s and a little piece of our souls die when we hear this.
Really, Olli, the sublime meats to be found in high-end restaurants all over the country is now available in a discount store?
This is not good birthday eve news.
For distraction from this tragedy, the chef comes out and we discuss the Lebanese Food Festival, an event he attended that left him in a food coma.
Now we want our own.
For our next course, she chooses rockfish with a side of asparagus with butter and Parmesan and another of spaghetti while I ask for scallops with a balsamic reduction.
I switch to the other Rose while she continues to sip her first glass, good girl that she is.
My scallops are meaty and sweet, the ideal complement to my Rose.
Even though most of the dinner crowd is leaving, we are soon joined by a group of wine geeks spouting wine talk in that way that makes mere mortals wonder what they're talking about.
On the other hand, they are guys and we are women and they are ordering very nice wines and are soon offering to pour us some of what they're drinking.
My friend demurs while I happily avail myself of their generosity.
2006 Voliero Brunello is the first thing they offer me and the nose alone is worth whatever conversation they want in return.
It has a gorgeous, flowery nose and a long finish and when I am offered a second taste, I happily accept.
Generous wine geeks are the best.
Friend and I were feeling uncomfortably full (possibly near death, the stated goal for the evening) but I reminded her that there's a always a corner for dessert.
Especially on a person's birthday eve.
That came in the form of sea salt and caramel boudino with nut brittle.
As the soon-to-be birthday girl, I was expected to finish more than half, which turned out to be more challenging than you (or I) might think.
But, trooper that I am, I persevered, along with some help from a 2006 Casanova di Neri Brunello, which the wine geeks said would be even more stellar by 2018.
The thing is, birthday eves are all about the here and now, so I had no interest in waiting until 2018 for wine or anything else.
It's enough I have to wait till tomorrow to begin the serious celebration.
Okay, not so serious. I am, after all, a Gemini.
Showing posts with label geminis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label geminis. Show all posts
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Future R.I.P. One Hell of a Woman
I'm going to brag and say I know how to enjoy a birthday.
This one began with a drive to the Outer Banks on a day when a hurricane was hanging about.
An hour and a half into the trip and listening to a mix tape (literally) from 1992 called "!Stood Up!" the weather gods descended on us.
A few droplets became driving rain, which segued into sleet and then pounded us with hail.
I hate to nitpick, but not only is it not hurricane season yet, but since when do we have hail in May?
We went from dry to terrifying in about two minutes, necessitating pulling over to eat bananas while enjoying Rockpile and Ned's Atomic Dustbin until the worst of it passed.
Once at the beach, a walk seemed in order, if for no other reason than to admire the magnificent cloudscapes we'd just recently escaped.
Yet again we were reminded of Alberto's presence when our beach stroll ended with rain, first light and then sufficiently driving to leave me with a soaked skirt and a head of wet hair.
A bottle of Prosecco ensured that we returned to birthday mode after being drenched.
Dinner was eaten on the balcony overlooking the ocean and involved eating with fingers while lightening shot across the horizon.
Not a bad view for my pre-birthday dinner, if I do say so myself.
After starting a second bottle, this one South African, we decided to take advantage of the rain having moved on and walked across the street for ice cream just before they closed.
Mine was a scoop of mint chocolate chip over a scoop of dark chocolate orange, which, when eaten on a blanket on the beach at night, seemed like the best idea I'd had in eons.
Crashing surf? Check. Changeable sky? Yep. No one around to disturb the dessert course? Perfect.
Shoes left on the beach until the next morning? Sure, but so what?
Sleeping with the door wide open to the sound of the waves, I woke up to being a year older with a smile on my face.
My birthday breakfast had been decided in advance; I wanted pancakes and bacon on the pier.
A short two mile beach walk put us at a corner table of the pier restaurant where our waitress Holly said, "Well, if it's your birthday, you need to have a Mimosa."
I ate myself stuffed, making the walk back down the beach a necessity as well as a real pleasure.
Alberto gave us no further trouble, although it was quite breezy for our afternoon under the new beach umbrella.
Cherry pits were spit out, watermelon sections dripped down chins and ripe pineapple was so sweet it felt like a guilty pleasure.
Standing in the surf watching as people walked up and down the beach, I spotted my favorite beachcomber.
He was a much older man with thinning, white hair and a cane, dressed impeccably in a button-down shirt, khakis and water shoes.
Despite the cane and his obvious slow pace, he was methodically walking just exactly along the water line, never quite getting wet, but never more than inches from the foam of the latest wave.
It was a thing of beauty watching him trace the water's edge.
I only hope that when I'm that old that I still want to walk along the edge of the ocean with a look of satisfaction on my face.
The drive home provided none of the weather drama of the earlier trip, but the music was just as good, if mostly a tad more current than Mighty Lemon Drops.
One of the more colorful sights was a home as tribute to the dead.
On an old salmon house, someone had painted in crooked letters, "R.I.P." and a man's name, birth and death dates.
Next to it, in slanted words was, "One hell of a guy."
For the record, I have no problem with someone wanting to memorialize me on my house once I kick the bucket.
Once back in RVA, without even washing the rain and saltwater out of my hair, my birthday dinner went down at Amour.
Starting at the bar with Lucien Albrecht Cremant d'Alsace Brut Rose and tarte flambe, we soon followed with escargots ("dirt food" as my dinner companion noted) and Reisling d'Alsace Heimberger.
Even only two wines in, the snail tongs were used to great hilarity.
Despite some sparkling conversation at the bar, part accented and part throaty, we decided to move to a front table for a view of Carytown's street theater (mostly people with trough-sized Sweet Frog dishes) and the rest of the meal.
A charcuterie and cheese plate (Boucherondin goat and Comte) brought two wines, a Chateauneuf du Pape White Domaine de la Bastide St. Dominique and Mount Ventoux Red.
A lump crabcake followed and at long last, dessert.
Six little dishes of sorbet - grapefruit, strawberry, kiwi, orange, espresso, and cocoa with candied orange peel- were an exercise in flavor bursts as each one exploded with fruit or caffeine.
Naturally only bubbles could do housemade sorbet justice, so we had Cremant d'Alsace Brut de Brut and saved the heavy lifting for last.
Chocolate caramel sea salt creme brulee was paired with Muscat de Beaume de Venise Domaine de la Bastide St. Dominique to put us firmly over the edge.
Did I need more chocolate after six tastes of sorbet? I did not.
Did I enjoy every bite anyway? You know it.
With not even a corner of room left in my belly, it was time to step away from the table.
Conveniently, the stars had aligned for the Blood Brothers (plus Greg Darden) to be playing the hits tonight.
So down to Ipanema we went, where clearly the birthday gods had given them a heads up.
The handsome bartender Gabe offered me dessert (sadly, not doable at that point) and two of my favorite music lovers had a bottle of wine waiting for me.
Bottle and glasses in hand, we commandeered the bench and sat back to hear what 60s and 70s vinyl the guys were going to play for this Gemini.
My birthday was getting more amazing by the minute.
Want to know what I mean? How about this set: "Steppin' Stone," "With a Girl Like You,"Summer in the City," and "Little Bit of Soul" for sheer mid-sixties pop perfection?
Various friends showed up, lots of stellar music was played and I felt like the day had been a birthday treat in every way.
Yea, I've still got sand in my hair. And, definitely, my body is still in sugar shock. I'm quite sure I haven't had enough sleep this week.
Is this any way to celebrate with a girl like me?
Hail, yes.
This one began with a drive to the Outer Banks on a day when a hurricane was hanging about.
An hour and a half into the trip and listening to a mix tape (literally) from 1992 called "!Stood Up!" the weather gods descended on us.
A few droplets became driving rain, which segued into sleet and then pounded us with hail.
I hate to nitpick, but not only is it not hurricane season yet, but since when do we have hail in May?
We went from dry to terrifying in about two minutes, necessitating pulling over to eat bananas while enjoying Rockpile and Ned's Atomic Dustbin until the worst of it passed.
Once at the beach, a walk seemed in order, if for no other reason than to admire the magnificent cloudscapes we'd just recently escaped.
Yet again we were reminded of Alberto's presence when our beach stroll ended with rain, first light and then sufficiently driving to leave me with a soaked skirt and a head of wet hair.
A bottle of Prosecco ensured that we returned to birthday mode after being drenched.
Dinner was eaten on the balcony overlooking the ocean and involved eating with fingers while lightening shot across the horizon.
Not a bad view for my pre-birthday dinner, if I do say so myself.
After starting a second bottle, this one South African, we decided to take advantage of the rain having moved on and walked across the street for ice cream just before they closed.
Mine was a scoop of mint chocolate chip over a scoop of dark chocolate orange, which, when eaten on a blanket on the beach at night, seemed like the best idea I'd had in eons.
Crashing surf? Check. Changeable sky? Yep. No one around to disturb the dessert course? Perfect.
Shoes left on the beach until the next morning? Sure, but so what?
Sleeping with the door wide open to the sound of the waves, I woke up to being a year older with a smile on my face.
My birthday breakfast had been decided in advance; I wanted pancakes and bacon on the pier.
A short two mile beach walk put us at a corner table of the pier restaurant where our waitress Holly said, "Well, if it's your birthday, you need to have a Mimosa."
I ate myself stuffed, making the walk back down the beach a necessity as well as a real pleasure.
Alberto gave us no further trouble, although it was quite breezy for our afternoon under the new beach umbrella.
Cherry pits were spit out, watermelon sections dripped down chins and ripe pineapple was so sweet it felt like a guilty pleasure.
Standing in the surf watching as people walked up and down the beach, I spotted my favorite beachcomber.
He was a much older man with thinning, white hair and a cane, dressed impeccably in a button-down shirt, khakis and water shoes.
Despite the cane and his obvious slow pace, he was methodically walking just exactly along the water line, never quite getting wet, but never more than inches from the foam of the latest wave.
It was a thing of beauty watching him trace the water's edge.
I only hope that when I'm that old that I still want to walk along the edge of the ocean with a look of satisfaction on my face.
The drive home provided none of the weather drama of the earlier trip, but the music was just as good, if mostly a tad more current than Mighty Lemon Drops.
One of the more colorful sights was a home as tribute to the dead.
On an old salmon house, someone had painted in crooked letters, "R.I.P." and a man's name, birth and death dates.
Next to it, in slanted words was, "One hell of a guy."
For the record, I have no problem with someone wanting to memorialize me on my house once I kick the bucket.
Once back in RVA, without even washing the rain and saltwater out of my hair, my birthday dinner went down at Amour.
Starting at the bar with Lucien Albrecht Cremant d'Alsace Brut Rose and tarte flambe, we soon followed with escargots ("dirt food" as my dinner companion noted) and Reisling d'Alsace Heimberger.
Even only two wines in, the snail tongs were used to great hilarity.
Despite some sparkling conversation at the bar, part accented and part throaty, we decided to move to a front table for a view of Carytown's street theater (mostly people with trough-sized Sweet Frog dishes) and the rest of the meal.
A charcuterie and cheese plate (Boucherondin goat and Comte) brought two wines, a Chateauneuf du Pape White Domaine de la Bastide St. Dominique and Mount Ventoux Red.
A lump crabcake followed and at long last, dessert.
Six little dishes of sorbet - grapefruit, strawberry, kiwi, orange, espresso, and cocoa with candied orange peel- were an exercise in flavor bursts as each one exploded with fruit or caffeine.
Naturally only bubbles could do housemade sorbet justice, so we had Cremant d'Alsace Brut de Brut and saved the heavy lifting for last.
Chocolate caramel sea salt creme brulee was paired with Muscat de Beaume de Venise Domaine de la Bastide St. Dominique to put us firmly over the edge.
Did I need more chocolate after six tastes of sorbet? I did not.
Did I enjoy every bite anyway? You know it.
With not even a corner of room left in my belly, it was time to step away from the table.
Conveniently, the stars had aligned for the Blood Brothers (plus Greg Darden) to be playing the hits tonight.
So down to Ipanema we went, where clearly the birthday gods had given them a heads up.
The handsome bartender Gabe offered me dessert (sadly, not doable at that point) and two of my favorite music lovers had a bottle of wine waiting for me.
Bottle and glasses in hand, we commandeered the bench and sat back to hear what 60s and 70s vinyl the guys were going to play for this Gemini.
My birthday was getting more amazing by the minute.
Want to know what I mean? How about this set: "Steppin' Stone," "With a Girl Like You,"Summer in the City," and "Little Bit of Soul" for sheer mid-sixties pop perfection?
Various friends showed up, lots of stellar music was played and I felt like the day had been a birthday treat in every way.
Yea, I've still got sand in my hair. And, definitely, my body is still in sugar shock. I'm quite sure I haven't had enough sleep this week.
Is this any way to celebrate with a girl like me?
Hail, yes.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Pie-Eyed for a Kindred Soul
Every Gemini celebrates her birthday in her own way.
Tonight's birthday girl chose pie and drinks as the centerpiece of her party and I'd have to say, those pies gave birthday cakes a run for their money.
We met at Ipanema on a perfect patio night, but the party was inside because the Sunday night regulars had already taken over the outside.
Being served up were four kinds of birthday pie: lemon chess, chocolate pecan, strawberry-peach and the Pennsylvania Dutch classic, shoofly pie (molasses), a nod to the honoree.
I had a slice of the chocolate pecan pie naturally and the birthday girl had lemon chess, but most guests went the sampler route, taking small slices from multiple kinds.
How often does that opportunity present itself after all?
Likewise the guest list was also a sampler, but one of Richmond's scene, with foodies (discussing bacon ice cream), techies ("Tumblr is all about stealing"), poetry lovers (my lack of enthusiasm for certain poets having been noted), teachers (loopy and grateful that it was not a school night), musicians (best skirt and pants in the room) and restaurant types (they're everywhere).
We Geminis must attract similar friends since that list could apply to my party last week as well.
Different faces, same varieties.
Stellar indie pop music and Firefly/cassis cocktails were admirably supplied by barkeep Brandon, who knowingly smiled when he asked if I'd like something to drink.
"Yes," I responded.
"Vino verde?" he questioned, cocking an eyebrow.
I say if it's bare legs season, it's vino verde season, although a friend tonight said that she drinks it year round for its effervescence and low alcohol content.
To each her own, but when it's cold, I need blood-thickening red wines.
But until the leaves start falling, I'm firmly in the VV camp, birthdays and everyday.
The evening ended with an enthused discussion of local travel and day trips as the way to satisfy travel cravings during busy and economically tight times.
My recent excursion to the mountain vistas of Blenheim Vineyards and today's to the cliffs of the Northern Neck were both cited as perfect examples of getting away and coming back renewed from something wholly different.
If there's one thing we Geminis need, it's a little variety.
Put a candle in the birthday pie and light 'er up.
Tonight's birthday girl chose pie and drinks as the centerpiece of her party and I'd have to say, those pies gave birthday cakes a run for their money.
We met at Ipanema on a perfect patio night, but the party was inside because the Sunday night regulars had already taken over the outside.
Being served up were four kinds of birthday pie: lemon chess, chocolate pecan, strawberry-peach and the Pennsylvania Dutch classic, shoofly pie (molasses), a nod to the honoree.
I had a slice of the chocolate pecan pie naturally and the birthday girl had lemon chess, but most guests went the sampler route, taking small slices from multiple kinds.
How often does that opportunity present itself after all?
Likewise the guest list was also a sampler, but one of Richmond's scene, with foodies (discussing bacon ice cream), techies ("Tumblr is all about stealing"), poetry lovers (my lack of enthusiasm for certain poets having been noted), teachers (loopy and grateful that it was not a school night), musicians (best skirt and pants in the room) and restaurant types (they're everywhere).
We Geminis must attract similar friends since that list could apply to my party last week as well.
Different faces, same varieties.
Stellar indie pop music and Firefly/cassis cocktails were admirably supplied by barkeep Brandon, who knowingly smiled when he asked if I'd like something to drink.
"Yes," I responded.
"Vino verde?" he questioned, cocking an eyebrow.
I say if it's bare legs season, it's vino verde season, although a friend tonight said that she drinks it year round for its effervescence and low alcohol content.
To each her own, but when it's cold, I need blood-thickening red wines.
But until the leaves start falling, I'm firmly in the VV camp, birthdays and everyday.
The evening ended with an enthused discussion of local travel and day trips as the way to satisfy travel cravings during busy and economically tight times.
My recent excursion to the mountain vistas of Blenheim Vineyards and today's to the cliffs of the Northern Neck were both cited as perfect examples of getting away and coming back renewed from something wholly different.
If there's one thing we Geminis need, it's a little variety.
Put a candle in the birthday pie and light 'er up.
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