Frankly, My Dear

It's not that I'm a weather wimp.

But with the next two days to go to the Folk Festival, I made plans to stay inside tonight.

I started at the VMFA for a highlights tour with a "Gone With the Wind" theme and tied into the upcoming "Hollywood Costume" exhibit.

Who'd have thought a museum tour would attract such a large group on a Friday night?

We strolled between galleries, looking at paintings of wealthy children and their slave nurses, slave women suffocating white men (Kara Walker's work a highlight) and a painting of utter devastation, much like Atlanta after Sherman marched through.

Finishing on such a downer, our docent suggested we get a drink afterwards to recover our Friday night high.

You don't have to tell me twice.

I immediately headed to Amuse where I ran into the predatory lawyer I'd seen just two nights ago.

Lawyers, be gone, I am over you.

The unexpected pleasure at Amuse was that they had Trinity absinthe, the new spirit being featured all over town today (this afternoon at Can Can and tonight at Heritage, neither of which I'd consider frequenting even for absinthe) but which I hadn't expected.

Soon the bartender was setting up my drip and regaling me with stories of ex sex and why it's so hard to give up on someone whom you're comfortable with.

All I could do was listen.

I was eager to taste the organic Trinity, described as more feminine absinthe, and see if energy-renewable practices made any difference in the taste.

Not that I'm an absinthe expert, but I found its flavor a tad more subtle than most absinthe while maintaining the distinctive appeal of the "green fairy."

Sipping, I got the scoop on the museum's "60 Films in 60 Days," an upcoming series of films representing the costumes in the "Hollywood" exhibit.

It looks like I'll have all kinds of chances to see movies on the big screen I've never seen before.

Hello "Casino Royale," kiss me "Out of Africa."

How wonderful it will be to have a film every day to amuse me that's conveniently followed by happy hour at Amuse.

There's the real trinity: me, film and absinthe.

By the time conversation and absinthe ended, the guards were only too happy to see me go.

I was starving, but not willing to go too far. Just last week, I'd missed out on the cook's plate at Belmont Butchery because I'd already eaten.

Tonight, after Sonoma wine and absinthe, I was ready to right that wrong.

The only others at the bar were part of a bachelor's party, dawdling and hoping to avoid the unpleasant places on the groom's schedule.

And by unpleasant, I mean places like Havana 59 and Tobacco Company.

I did what I could to discourage them.

To accompany my cook's plate, I drank 2011 "Tami" Nero d'Avola, made by my favorite Sicilian winemaker, Arianna Occhipinti. It was simple, it was well-made and I was happy.

The cook's plate made me just as happy.

Brandade in potato halves, duck leg confit, frisee, two thick slices of pate, warm gougeres, duck hearts and gizzards, pickled mushrooms, red peppers and jalapenos, grilled bread and squash.

Absolutely to die for, every bite.

With '20s music playing (the bartender offered me R. Kelly and I politely and vehemently declined), I tucked into what I consider the best deal in town and some of the tastiest parts ever served on a piece of slate after 11 p.m.

Eventually the chef came out to have a beer and chat and we talked about Chicago, Petersburg, wine foil art and attracting the specific customers you want.

That means not attracting the SUV-driving set challenged by parallel parking and not worrying about people who don't get it.

Personally, I gave up on people who don't get it long ago...weather wimps included.

GWTW Virgins

If you want a truly unique experience watching Gone with the Wind, go with a) someone who's never seen it before and b) in a theater full of people who laugh at the wrong moments. Like today's Movie and Mimosas show at the Bowtie.

I didn't realize my friend hadn't seen it before or that her impression was that it had a happy ending.

She was totally unprepared for the rapid-fire deaths of Frank Kennedy, Bonnie Blue and Miss Melly and just as disturbed by how much she grew to dislike the Scarlett character as the movie wore on.

She didn't even realize she'd committed to a four-hour extravaganza, commenting on our way out, "Well, this day's gone now." Yes, but you're a better person for it, I assured her.

The crowd reacted oddly to the movie, laughing at a scene where a man fights having his leg amputated and at almost everything Mammy said, whether it was humorous or not. At the close of the first half when Scarlett vows never to be hungry again in the fields of Tara, they cackled.

To their credit, they gasped when Bonnie broke her neck falling off her pony and when Scarlett fell down the steps miscarrying, so maybe they were just first-timers, too. What else would explain laughing out loud at "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn"?

But it had been at least ten years since I'd seen GWTW on the big screen and Bowtie not only played the overture, but the intermission and exit music as well to give us the full 1939 experience. So I was glad to have devoted most of my afternoon to it.

Truth be told, I'm entranced by a man who woos and proposes by saying, "I can't go all my life waiting to catch you between husbands."

Count me as a fan of Rhett Butler-type men: black-hearted varmints with no need for a reputation who appreciate the same.

His emphasis on frequent kissing doesn't hurt, either.