Tails Were the Turnoff

I have a friend who is a decidedly un-adventurous eater. Last winter, when I ordered the wild boar meatballs at Bacchus, she was repulsed and gave me a hard time about eating them. After enough wine, I might add, she begrudgingly tasted them and reluctantly admitted that they were awfully good.


Fast forward to tonight and she suggested Bacchus again, even throwing out a tease that she might get the wild boar. This was something I needed to see. We set up camp at the bar, which was completely empty, although nearly every table and booth was full. We ordered wine and started looking at the menu.


Alas, the wild boar was gone, replaced by all kinds of other delectables. My friend went right from the exotic to the mundane and ordered the white pizza and the white beans with pesto. I'm not so easily led; I decide to start with the spinach salad with green apple vinaigrette, goat cheese and toasted almonds.


But what had immediately caught my eye was the sugar toad scampi. It's not every day that you find Chesapeake puffer fish on the menu, but when I do, I want some. And unlike probably the most frequent preparation, lightly fried, this was something different.


My salad was perfection with the sweet dressing well serving the spinach and goat cheese. I think I enjoyed it all the more for knowing what a rich delight was to follow. Because, quite honestly, those sugar toads were the thing.


Five little bodies in a bowl full of butter and garlic and a big piece of frisee on the side, this didn't look quite like anything else that readily came to mind. It was then that my friend glanced down and gasped, "Are those tails?" Why, yes, they were and that was the end of the possibility of her tasting sugar toads. Their fatal flaw was their end piece.


Not long after, a couple of guys became the third and fourth bar sitters. The first guy introduced himself as Persian (I love how much more romantic that sounds than Iranian), but an American citizen since 1971. He was effusive about his passion for his adopted home in that way that oly non-natives tend to be. His friend and former co-worker was originally from Mexico. We now had two delightful accents to share conversation with.


My friend can be direct. "Do you smoke?" she asked one of the guys, apparently based on his breath. It turned out that they both did, not surprisingly given that one works for Philip-Morris and the other is a retiree after 30+ years of service. They were charming, well-traveled and obviously long-time friends.


We started with health care reform, went on to the attitudes of the German people and finished with tales of intrigue from South American tobacco farms. My perception of P-M employees was blown out of the water with some of their more colorful stories about tobacco acquisition. Corporate intrigue! Radio interviews! Sacrificing a cow!


But the sugar toads were the thing tonight...tails and all.

Stalking the Wild Boar at Bacchus

Since tonight was the Richmond Forum, I knew in advance that most of the decent restaurants within a two-mile radius of the Landmark would be mobbed until 7:40 and right I was.

Accordingly, I made plans to meet a friend at Bacchus at 7:30 (which to her means 7:45). I arrived a little early to an overflowing restaurant, most of whom exited stage right within ten minutes.

I sat down at the bar nearest the heater, shivering and waiting for my friend to arrive. In no time at all, the restaurant completely filled up again.

The two guys sitting next to me genially engaged me in conversation.

They had just come from seeing Pedro Almodovar's "Broken Embraces" at the Westhampton.

Since I was already considering seeing this movie, I asked how they'd liked it (greatly) and commented that I was a big fan of Almodovar's films.

"Like what?" one of them asked. "Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down," I responded.

"Would you like to see more of that sort of thing?" one of the guys suggestively asked.

At that moment my friend arrived, effectively ending a potential discussion of bondage with a complete stranger.

We had a lovely meal.

I had white beans with pesto and mixed greens, followed by wild boar meatballs with mushrooms over white beans.

Yes, it was more white beans than I probably needed, but the subtly seasoned meatballs were absolutely delicious, not that they screamed wild boar (or wild anything for that matter) for the gastronomically timid, like my friend.

By this time, friend was ready for a change of scenery, so we headed up the block to Rowland for dessert.

Seating ourselves at the bar near a lone bar sitter, we were surprised at how full the restaurant was.

It didn't take long for the bar sitter to join us in conversation and merrymaking, making for a most enjoyable shift in dynamic for the evening.

A Philly native, he told us where to find the best Philly cheese steak in RVA and friend told him where to find the best rotisserie chicken in Arlington.

We ordered desserts (tiramisu and hazelnut chocolate torte) and liquid refreshment and proceeded to fill the next three hours with mutual getting-to-know-you-superficially conversation.

At times fast and furious and at times teasing and jocular, we inadvertently delayed our new friend from his intended plans for the rest of the evening.

He didn't complain about it and seemed strong enough of character to have left if he'd really wanted to.

I will give him credit, though; he stayed consistent with his story (his claim, not mine), quoted Shakespeare and complimented my smile.

Bonus points for all three.

Shortly after 1, the owners remembered that they had brunch coming up in too few hours, so we bundled up against the cold and started down the sidewalk.

Across the street, groups were still heading into Sidewalk, but we adjourned for the evening with our hunger and humor satisfied.