Welcome Back, Old Friend

If you invite me, I will come.

So when the bartender at Bistro Bobette messaged me reminding me that it had been a while since I'd been at his bar, I took note.

And when a friend from Maryland said she'd be in town tonight and wanted to met up with me and a favorite couple, where better to go than Bobette?

They had a nice little crowd already in place when we arrived, pleasing the out-of-towner who wanted a lively scene.

Conveniently, there were two seats together open at the bar when we arrived, another stool next to a regular who said hello (and kindly asked if I'd lost weight!) and the two stools nearby were vacated within minutes.

Our party of five took over the little bar and the bartender was impressed that his message to me had worked.

Hey, I am nothing if not responsive, one way or the other.

While the other three stayed festive with Cremant d'Alsace, my date and I opted for Chateau de Vinigelais Courbieres 2010.

Deciding on food at Bobette is doubly enjoyable because they have two menus, one for the dining room and another for the bar.

The bar is the place for surprises and great deals, so I like to look there first.

But Holmes was sure we needed oysters, so we got the last ten in the house, scoring a couple each.

It must have been a busy night because they were already out of baguettes and that's saying something at Bobette.

So while the two of us have yet to have Bob's dog together (sure, I've had it more times than I can count), we weren't going to have it tonight sans baguette.

A travesty!

And yet one in our party braved it for the sake of that exquisite Sausagecraft dog.

My interest was piqued by the chicon, a special on tonight's bar menu.

Poached endive was covered in Parisian ham, Gruyere and Swiss cheese for an obscenely rich starter that had the regular curious and the other couple placing a late order of it.

The bartender had been correct in chiding me about not having been in in a while.

I found out that my favorite wine geek had taken a prestigious wine position befitting his encyclopedic knowledge of all things grape.

The owner teased me about my absence, but all I could focus on was her new hairstyle which looked fabulous on her.

I was as surprised to learn that she had curly hair as she was to learn mine is straight.

Naturally we each wished we had the other's hair. Isn't that always the way?

My visiting friend was doing her best to convince us all to come visit for a community weekend, although she mentioned one slight problem.

There are no doors on the bedrooms in her '30s-era bungalow on the Chesapeake Bay.

Seems a tad cozy, if you know what I mean.

While she moved on to the steak frites and mixed pickled veggies (with just the right amount of tang), we ordered the Bobette burger with frites and were rewarded with a well-seasoned burger smothered in Camembert and at barely medium rare, tasting more of steak tartare than a conventional burger.

In other words, yum.

After a mound of salty fries, all I could think about was something sweet, so we ordered the chocolate hazelnut crousillant.

The dense chocolate dessert with a layer of hazelnut crunch was swoon-worthy, causing the couple in our group to order the same.

Sadly, we had gotten the last one.

Or maybe appropriately since it felt like my treat for showing up on demand.

I can be easy when I want to.

From the Fan to the Bottom to the Slip Version 2.0

What if there was a party and nobody but women came? What if nobody but women were invited? That would be a friend's annual Thesmophoria extravaganza, celebrating the ancient Greek festival for women only (men were supposed to be working, although frequently they came to ogle).

I'm always flattered to be asked since she gathers such an interesting group together for the evening. Julia from River City Cellars brings three great wines (I was unashamedly back to her favorite breakfast bubbles, the Tete a Claques I'd been drinking just two nights before) and all the best cheeses and the women bring the rest of the food (which always means an obscene amount of desserts).

The first thing I overheard when I walked in late to the already in-progress party was, " So do you take Nyquil?" It doesn't have the same ring as other self-medicating questions I have heard at parties.

But that was just one of many conversations I joined and then exited as I made my way through the house to meet and greet all these women.

I finally had to say my goodbyes since I'd promised to pick up a friend for an evening of light. We parked in the Bottom and began at Julep, which is always fun when Bobby's mixing.

I knew he'd been busy lately making new concoctions and listening to David Bowie, and was curious about the results. If Bowie's not old-school inspirational, I don't know who is (actually I do: Bryan Ferry).

It wasn't long before he got out his torch and presented each of us with a big roasted coconut marshmallow he'd made. I'm a coconut fan anyway, but Bobby had used coconut water instead of plain water in his recipe.

The result was scrumptious, the most sublime over-sized marshmallow I've ever put into my mouth. He created it to sit atop the Jack Skellington, but I had it as a side for my (surprise!) Corozon tequila.

Friend enjoyed a couple of cocktails (including two off Bobby's list) before we decided that it was time to join the throngs and start exploring InLight. The first piece that really grabbed me was the covered wagon with its projections of new frontier travel. Sitting in the middle of Cary Street, it was like a ghost from another era.

Sacer-totem, made of plasric nativity scene figures stacked up totem pole-like brought a smile to many viewers' faces. The Virgin Mary perched on top of assorted Wise Men made for a particularly arresting lighted visual.

All of Cary Street was transformed simply by having the street lights off. It gave the area a much different vibe (which I liked) and allowed people to drop into the shadows when they wanted to. Kind of cool.

At Bouchon, we were greeted by a madhouse. The last time I saw the place that crazy was the Bastille Day party. But the kissing bartender and chef promised us a table or bar stools and we only had to stand to sip our drinks for a bit.

The bar menu of which I'm so fond had some new listings for the evening, so we tried the onion tart, the pork and beans (so popular it had been changed from a full serving to a half) and the mushroom soup.

Friend had been unsure what to expect out of the standard-sounding pork and beans, so the sausage and white bean combo was a pleasant surprise to him. I knew Francis would do it up right, so I wasn't the least bit surprised.

The guy on the other side of me joined in our conversation about Caddyshack and music after a while and I didn't hold it against him that he liked Vampire Weekend, although I did share my opinion of the copycat little prepsters (even so, it couldn't have been too off-putting because when he got up to leave later, apropos of nothing, he said, "Come on, leave with me").

It was while he was sampling around the bar offerings (Port, pear-infused brandy, red wine) that bartender Olivier asked me if I liked apple pie and set a glass down in front of me. Very apple-like and I didn't even bother to ask what it might be. Next time.

The conversation was varied and, at times downright revealing, and before I knew it we were nearing the bewitching hour when InLight would go dark. Before that happened, Olivier grabbed me and led me downstairs and out the back way to see all the installations on the block behind Bouchon. Chef Francis joined me for the art.

There were two pop-up galleries back there, so a lot to see. Probably my favorite was Unwilling Nervous Courage, consisting of both a male nude and a reclining female nude, both magnificently carved in wood with video projections across them. We were both fascinated by the implications.

Another piece that fed the viewer's ego used a camera in one little room to project our image onto another wall. "If we stand here, the camera records whatever we do." Risky business for some.

Francis and I were both impressed by Horizon in the Fold; the columns of light behind the curtain gave a blowing, billowing effect that mirrored a balmy day with the window open, except with light as the moving force. For me, it was like seeing a sunset through the curtain of a beach cottage window, all gentle movement and subtle colors.

By the time I'd finished seeing everything I could, artists and friends had began pulling up extension cords and untaping power strips, so I headed back upstairs. We enjoyed more conversation as the bar finally began to thin out and eventually close down.

Walking back to the Bottom to retrieve my car, a passing girl said to me, "I love your purple tights!" And they don't compare to the new burgundy lace ones. Still, there is nothing quite like a random compliment at 1:45 a.m.

Actually, there's nothing like random compliment anytime. It won't give me a big head, I promise.

A Windy Walk to the Urban Farmhouse

Yes, it is windy and cold outside, but at least it's not snowing (yet), which was cause enough for my friend and I to walk from J-Ward to the Slip and lunch at the Urban Farmhouse Market and Cafe.

We were both curious about their commitment to both urban renewal and good food from local sources.

The space is beautiful with incredibly high ceilings and cozy love seats sandwiched between tables.

When we arrived shortly after 12:30, there was only one two-top free, which we grabbed, but within a half hour, the tables had turned over completely.

Lots of creative business-looking types came and went while we lingered.

It's one of those places where you order at the counter, take a seat and wait for your name to be shouted out, which makes me want to come up with a more creative name for myself next time.

I ordered the Turkey and Sesame with Fresh Scallions (with ginger garlic aioli, toasted sesame seeds and fresh organic scallions) and my friend got the Lemony Ceasar Salad with free-range chicken with their house made egg-less Ceasar dressing.

She was especially pleased that walnuts replaced the usual tired croutons in her salad. I enjoyed actual sliced turkey breast rather than deli turkey on my grilled sandwich which came with carrot sticks and potato chips, no doubt to balance each other out.

The large windows made for a delightfully sunny meal and really opened up the corner space.

I was amazed to find that the ceilings were just as high in the bathroom; I can't say I've ever been in a bathroom with walls easily four times my height.

Add in colorfully tiled walls on the lower third and an enormous window and it was a pretty spectacular bathroom experience, if you're into such things.

Apparently I am.

Although they had an assortment of desserts like cookies, brownies and candies, we opted to go around the corner to Shockoe Espresso, me for a slice of chocolate cake with coconut icing and her for coffee.

I was surprised to learn that their desserts came from Garnett's which explained why my huge piece of cake was so well done.

Coconut + chocolate = dessert nirvana, at least in my world. Can you say Samoas?

Walking home and into the wind on shadowed streets wasn't nearly as enjoyable as the walk east had been, but we detoured into Ghostprint Gallery to check out their latest show "Italian Art &Design."

There were some striking ceramic relief pieces in colors too beautiful to describe, as well as vintage Italian pieces from the mid-twentieth century.

One was a wooden bar cart with swans for handles connecting the wheels and trays. Another was a lacquered goatskin coffee table with a built-in well for an ice bucket; it was incredibly groovy circa 1960.

Chairs of various styles and materials looked more like sculpture than furniture.

Most of the pieces looked like they would have been right at home in an urban loft right around the time the cultural revolution was taking off.

Walking the last few blocks home in the wind, my friend thanked me for helping her wile way a rare afternoon off.

Hell, I'm practically an expert when it comes to creative time use, even with a wind advisory that would have kept saner people inside.

But then I've heard sanity is overrated.

La Grotta: Oh, the Pressure!

When you have an Italian guest coming in from NOVA on a Monday, it's important to choose a restaurant that's not going to pale in comparison to what he's used to at home.

And when it's someone you haven't seen much in a very long time, you also seek out an atmosphere conducive to private conversation with unobtrusive service.

And preferably no large groups or babies.

So it was that we ended up at La Grotta in the Slip, a place I don't frequent often and yet, I've always had excellent food and service there.

Maybe it's the challenges of parking in the area, but on a Monday night, it was easy enough in the less-than-crowded streets.

So uncrowded, in fact, that a couple of kitchen guys were throwing a football back and forth in the middle of 13th Street, not something you see every day in the Slip.

Our table was away from the fray, although within earshot of a large group with a baby, drat the luck.

Luckily, they were much further along in the meal process than we were, so we only had to put up with them for a while.

And while we weren't purposely eavesdropping, some comments just catch your ear, for instance, a boast about taking the 7-year old to the shooting range.

We wondered how long before the little one in the car seat gets his turn with the trigger.

But they left soon enough and we had plenty of privacy to talk.

I had the Insalate Tricolore (homemade mozzarella, tomato and organic baby greens in a white balsamic) and he had a special that was similar with the mozzarella, roasted eggplant and roasted red peppers in the balsamic.

We agreed that the mozzarella was just lovely. I followed with the Cape Sante (baked scallops on the half shell with jumbo lump crab and roasted red peppers), decadent with butter and crab meat oozing, and he with a special of rock fish, perfectly cooked and seasoned.

As good as the food was, we had a lot of talking to do, so our server made countless unnecessary trips over to our table thinking perhaps we'd finally finished, but alas for him, it was a long, lingering meal.

We were the last ones out and I feel certain those were looks of relief on the staff's faces when we finally stood to leave.

Even the football guys had moved on.

Mondays can be tough nights to make a dining choice because the variety of open restaurants is more limited than the rest of the week.

Of course, depending on how good the company is, the food's importance is a relative thing.

La Grotta delivered an excellent meal, but we probably would have enjoyed Perly's just as much.

It was all about the conversation.