I went to my friendly neighborhood corner bar tonight because they were starting a new music series and, good god, I hadn't been out for live music in five days.
Please don't judge me.
Playing tonight was the guitar/saxophone duo of Alan Parker and Roger Carroll and the gig looks to be a regular happening on Wednesdays at The Belvidere at Broad.
When I walked in shortly after 7, every table was taken and there were only a couple of bar stools available.
I picked a corner stool, with a clear view of the musicians, with good and bad results.
Fortuitously, the couple on my left were wine-savvy foodies and terrific conversationalists.
Sadly, the guy to my right was rapidly becoming drunk and overly friendly.
The first question out of his mouth was, "You're gorgeous. How old are you?"
Now there's a way to make a first impression.
To my utter delight, The Belvidere had added some new items to the menu and deleted a few.
After five months in business, they were ready to shake up the menu a bit (fear not, that magnificent smoked salmon and award-winning burger are still there).
The Roasted Red and Golden Beet Salad with Maytag Bleu Cheese, Toasted Pine Nuts and Micro-Greens and Beet Puree was generously sized and a great value.
The Roasted Stuffed Mushrooms with Spinach, Tomato, Herbed Cream Cheese, Parmigiana Reggiano over a Red Pepper Cream Sauce was decadently rich (and gluten free).
The Grilled Tenderloin canapes were crostini topped with a mound of grilled tenderloin, caramelized red onion, chives and house horseradish sauce.
The tenderloin was melt-in-your-mouth wonderful. They come five to a plate and are a meal in and of themselves, so order it for yourself at your own risk.
Also new on the menu was the poached pear dessert, which I was too full for, but the charming couple shared it and raved about it.
Of course, in my world additional dessert choices are always a good thing.
The music was clearly a draw as the crowd stayed or left and was replaced for the entire three hours it was being played.
The occasional person stood outside to listen through the window.
At times the wail of the saxophone got loud, but was so well done that the crowd just backed off on their noise level.
Meanwhile, the obnoxious drunk guy continued his assault, repeating himself endlessly and asking me everything from whether or not I'd go outside and smoke weed with him to how I managed to look so good when he was 13 years younger and looked so awful.
I had a few theories, but mostly pretended like I was deaf.
I've got no problem ignoring one bad apple when the rest of the evening includes well-prepared food, live music and interesting people to talk to.
That's three things I inevitably find at my corner bar.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Carytown Cupcakes in the Sunshine
Let's face it, with the temperature hovering at a balmy 46 degrees this afternoon, it might as well be Spring after the tundra-like weather of the past few weeks.
And that was as good an excuse as any to hit sunny Carytown and take care of some business, namely cards and Carytown Cupcakes.
You can challenge me on this, but there's no better place to buy a card in rva than Mongrel.
If you prefer the pablum of Hallmark, that's your business, but when I need to translate my feelings into the snarky card format, Mongrel is where I have the most choices to do so.
I'd have to get busy awfully quickly to need any Valentine's Day cards, so I bypassed the entire front of the store for the year-round sentiments in the back and scored a couple of appropriately sarcastic ones.
After the arduous card procurement process, I strolled around the corner reveling in the sunshine to Carytown Cupcakes.
This little pink store carries six regular varieties of cupcakes and two weekly specials so it came down to choosing at least one of each.
From the regular offerings, of course I had to get the chocolate/chocolate with sprinkles but I couldn't resist the Red Velvet because it was undoubtedly the prettiest of everything in the case.
From the specials, I got the Peanut Butter/Reese's Pieces extravaganza.
They do have a couch and table, sort of a cupcake lounge, at which two girls were giggling and eating their cupcakes, but I opted to take mine back out into the sunshine.
Facing the sun, I tore into my treats.
The chocolate was very chocolaty, but a little dry, with the kind of old-school chocolate icing my mom taught me to make when I was 10.
The Red Velvet was magnificent, cake and icing alike, both of which oozed a rich butteriness.
I had to stop there, so I can't yet give a report on the peanut butter/Reese's specimen.
When I come down off my sugar buzz, I'll reopen the little white box and let you know.
And that was as good an excuse as any to hit sunny Carytown and take care of some business, namely cards and Carytown Cupcakes.
You can challenge me on this, but there's no better place to buy a card in rva than Mongrel.
If you prefer the pablum of Hallmark, that's your business, but when I need to translate my feelings into the snarky card format, Mongrel is where I have the most choices to do so.
I'd have to get busy awfully quickly to need any Valentine's Day cards, so I bypassed the entire front of the store for the year-round sentiments in the back and scored a couple of appropriately sarcastic ones.
After the arduous card procurement process, I strolled around the corner reveling in the sunshine to Carytown Cupcakes.
This little pink store carries six regular varieties of cupcakes and two weekly specials so it came down to choosing at least one of each.
From the regular offerings, of course I had to get the chocolate/chocolate with sprinkles but I couldn't resist the Red Velvet because it was undoubtedly the prettiest of everything in the case.
From the specials, I got the Peanut Butter/Reese's Pieces extravaganza.
They do have a couch and table, sort of a cupcake lounge, at which two girls were giggling and eating their cupcakes, but I opted to take mine back out into the sunshine.
Facing the sun, I tore into my treats.
The chocolate was very chocolaty, but a little dry, with the kind of old-school chocolate icing my mom taught me to make when I was 10.
The Red Velvet was magnificent, cake and icing alike, both of which oozed a rich butteriness.
I had to stop there, so I can't yet give a report on the peanut butter/Reese's specimen.
When I come down off my sugar buzz, I'll reopen the little white box and let you know.
Romance, Grace Street Style
Sex and romance must have been in the air on Grace Street this morning, judging by the sights and sounds I encountered on my walk.
Grace Street Still Life: A long-stem red rose next to a Bud Light tall boy with the bag pushed down.
Maybe the two things were a thoughtful gift and by the time she finished the beer she forgot all about the rose.
Or maybe he was drinking to get up his nerve to present the rose to her and never quite worked it up.
Touching.
Sing Me a Song: A guy walking towards me singing "Me and Mrs. Jones" at the top of his lungs and in fine voice, I might add.
When he reached me, he threw his arms out dramatically and circled me, singing full-on.
I stopped long enough to be the recipient of a chorus and then clapped and moved on.
A Lesson in the Important Stuff: The window of Exile had a must-read book on display, A Study of Group Sex in Wife Swapping: Sex groups, Free Love, Voyeurs, Exhibitionists, Discipline, Homosexuals, Lesbians.
The subhead keeps going, but I think you get the idea.
Judging by the original price of the book (95 cents) I'm guessing it's a self-help gem from the 60s.
Looking for a bedside reference? Now you know where to find it.
Okay, it wasn't as good as morning sex, but it all had its charm, nonetheless.
Grace Street Still Life: A long-stem red rose next to a Bud Light tall boy with the bag pushed down.
Maybe the two things were a thoughtful gift and by the time she finished the beer she forgot all about the rose.
Or maybe he was drinking to get up his nerve to present the rose to her and never quite worked it up.
Touching.
Sing Me a Song: A guy walking towards me singing "Me and Mrs. Jones" at the top of his lungs and in fine voice, I might add.
When he reached me, he threw his arms out dramatically and circled me, singing full-on.
I stopped long enough to be the recipient of a chorus and then clapped and moved on.
A Lesson in the Important Stuff: The window of Exile had a must-read book on display, A Study of Group Sex in Wife Swapping: Sex groups, Free Love, Voyeurs, Exhibitionists, Discipline, Homosexuals, Lesbians.
The subhead keeps going, but I think you get the idea.
Judging by the original price of the book (95 cents) I'm guessing it's a self-help gem from the 60s.
Looking for a bedside reference? Now you know where to find it.
Okay, it wasn't as good as morning sex, but it all had its charm, nonetheless.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Take Her Wheels. She's Got Legs.
One of the reasons I love living in the city is so I can walk to most of my necessary and pleasurable destinations.
So with my car in the shop for two full days, I've been walking everywhere while I'm car-less.
Every time I take my car into my mechanic Curtis, he reminds me what great cars Nissan Altimas are.
He says they're well-built and reliable and I shouldn't begrudge my 9 1/2 -year old vehicle with 119,000 miles on it the occasional mechanical malfunction.
But when the car's needs are being addressed and it's friggin' freezing (or more accurately, below friggin' freezing) I am naturally more inclined to choose a nearby restaurant, the sooner to get to the warmth.
Of course, seeing a couple in shorts out jogging on my way over sent an additional chill through my body, but, hey, more power to them and their frigid little bodies.
All this is just a prelude as to why I ended up at 27 for dinner yet again.
The fact is, the food never disappointments, the staff knows me all too well and there are almost always other bar sitters for companionship during my meal.
It's hard to resist soup in this weather and the Three Bean with Chorizo was everything I could hope for in a large bowl.
Add to that the crusty bread and red pepper dipping oil and I was a happy camper and quite full afterwards.
I used my Malbec/Shiraz blend to bridge the gap until I was ready for dessert. After much deliberation, I ordered the mixed berries served in a chocolate cup with Zabaglione.
I've loved this dessert since first having it at Amici back in the 90s.
Truly, I wanted to lick the plate (but restrained myself).
The entire staff was hungover from Chef Carlos' birthday party the night before and looked it.
I was thrilled to hear the restaurant's soundtrack had finally changed with the addition of four Beatles compilations, replacing the ancient mix that the staff and I had long ago memorized.
Love, love me do.
One of the servers rushed over to tell me that he was waiting on a couple of gay lobbyists on the other side who, when asked what they wanted for dessert, replied, "The chocolate gelato and the raspberry sorbet.
And you and the bartender on top of our table." I think there should be an extra charge for that.
Coincidentally, the bar diner two stools down had already brought up the topic of RVA's gay bar scene and its weaknesses.
He expressed a desire for the day when there is no distinction between bars based on sexuality.
It's a lofty goal, but I hope he doesn't hold his breath.
You must admit, a person doesn't need a car with such terrific food and entertainment value within a short chilly walk.
And I'm not foolish enough to wear shorts to get there, either.
So with my car in the shop for two full days, I've been walking everywhere while I'm car-less.
Every time I take my car into my mechanic Curtis, he reminds me what great cars Nissan Altimas are.
He says they're well-built and reliable and I shouldn't begrudge my 9 1/2 -year old vehicle with 119,000 miles on it the occasional mechanical malfunction.
But when the car's needs are being addressed and it's friggin' freezing (or more accurately, below friggin' freezing) I am naturally more inclined to choose a nearby restaurant, the sooner to get to the warmth.
Of course, seeing a couple in shorts out jogging on my way over sent an additional chill through my body, but, hey, more power to them and their frigid little bodies.
All this is just a prelude as to why I ended up at 27 for dinner yet again.
The fact is, the food never disappointments, the staff knows me all too well and there are almost always other bar sitters for companionship during my meal.
It's hard to resist soup in this weather and the Three Bean with Chorizo was everything I could hope for in a large bowl.
Add to that the crusty bread and red pepper dipping oil and I was a happy camper and quite full afterwards.
I used my Malbec/Shiraz blend to bridge the gap until I was ready for dessert. After much deliberation, I ordered the mixed berries served in a chocolate cup with Zabaglione.
I've loved this dessert since first having it at Amici back in the 90s.
Truly, I wanted to lick the plate (but restrained myself).
The entire staff was hungover from Chef Carlos' birthday party the night before and looked it.
I was thrilled to hear the restaurant's soundtrack had finally changed with the addition of four Beatles compilations, replacing the ancient mix that the staff and I had long ago memorized.
Love, love me do.
One of the servers rushed over to tell me that he was waiting on a couple of gay lobbyists on the other side who, when asked what they wanted for dessert, replied, "The chocolate gelato and the raspberry sorbet.
And you and the bartender on top of our table." I think there should be an extra charge for that.
Coincidentally, the bar diner two stools down had already brought up the topic of RVA's gay bar scene and its weaknesses.
He expressed a desire for the day when there is no distinction between bars based on sexuality.
It's a lofty goal, but I hope he doesn't hold his breath.
You must admit, a person doesn't need a car with such terrific food and entertainment value within a short chilly walk.
And I'm not foolish enough to wear shorts to get there, either.
On Nick's Deli and Naps
When you're entertaining until 2:30 but have to get up at 6 a.m. and you're not a coffee drinker, some adjustments are in order.
The energy's got to come from somewhere and for me it's food and lots of it (and doubtlessly a little nap before I go out tonight).
And not just any food, but the kind of eats that will distract me from my fatigue and keep me going long enough to get a few things done before giving into it.
Despite a crack of dawn breakfast, that meant a mid-morning chocolate chip scone hot out of the oven at Garnett's.
They bake their scones fresh every morning and while it's true that most baked goods are better fresh out of the oven, scones are sublime when they're warm and steaming.
The variety of scone changes daily but with my chocolate sweet tooth, I lucked into the ideal taste delight for me today.
And when you get up at 6, you're ready for lunch by 11.
I hung on until after 11:30, but not by much, and then I made the two-block dash to Nick's Deli on Broad Street (okay, Nick's Produce and International Market, if you want me to be specific).
As a recent commenter to one of my restaurant posts wrote, "...nothing in the world beats a sandwich from Nick's."
I heard that and today I needed an 8" ham, turkey and bacon sub doused in oil and vinegar.
What a huge and delicious sandwich; with a pile of potato chips almost as big as the sub, I got enough sustenance to be relatively productive before shifting into siesta mode.
At the counter being rung up, I was asked how my day was going.
I explained that it was a 3 1/2 hour night with an early morning wake-up call.
Handing me my bag, the girl empathetically said, "Eat this and then take a nice long nap."
You know, I think I will.
The energy's got to come from somewhere and for me it's food and lots of it (and doubtlessly a little nap before I go out tonight).
And not just any food, but the kind of eats that will distract me from my fatigue and keep me going long enough to get a few things done before giving into it.
Despite a crack of dawn breakfast, that meant a mid-morning chocolate chip scone hot out of the oven at Garnett's.
They bake their scones fresh every morning and while it's true that most baked goods are better fresh out of the oven, scones are sublime when they're warm and steaming.
The variety of scone changes daily but with my chocolate sweet tooth, I lucked into the ideal taste delight for me today.
And when you get up at 6, you're ready for lunch by 11.
I hung on until after 11:30, but not by much, and then I made the two-block dash to Nick's Deli on Broad Street (okay, Nick's Produce and International Market, if you want me to be specific).
As a recent commenter to one of my restaurant posts wrote, "...nothing in the world beats a sandwich from Nick's."
I heard that and today I needed an 8" ham, turkey and bacon sub doused in oil and vinegar.
What a huge and delicious sandwich; with a pile of potato chips almost as big as the sub, I got enough sustenance to be relatively productive before shifting into siesta mode.
At the counter being rung up, I was asked how my day was going.
I explained that it was a 3 1/2 hour night with an early morning wake-up call.
Handing me my bag, the girl empathetically said, "Eat this and then take a nice long nap."
You know, I think I will.
An Old Friend Returns to the Scene of the Crime
How great is it when your blog reconnects you with an old friend you haven't seen in fifteen years?
And not just any guy, but the one who makes the world's best mix tapes.
Last month I blogged his praises and tonight we spent all evening catching up on each other's lives in the interim, aided by much Clos La Coutale Cahors and shared music.
It was awesome to discover that we're still amazingly alike in all the same ways we were back then, which amounts to about about a million similarities.
Now if only we could convince everyone else of our wisdom, the world would be so much better off.
Honestly, kids, we know what we're talking about.
Did I mention he came bearing the gift of a mix tape for me?
It's labeled "The Ghosts That Haunt Me" and he gave it to me with the assurance that I'd understand why the songs were chosen.
Knowing his consummate mixing ability, I think I am in for something wonderful and I have my blog to thank for that.
Well, that and the mix tape master.
And not just any guy, but the one who makes the world's best mix tapes.
Last month I blogged his praises and tonight we spent all evening catching up on each other's lives in the interim, aided by much Clos La Coutale Cahors and shared music.
It was awesome to discover that we're still amazingly alike in all the same ways we were back then, which amounts to about about a million similarities.
Now if only we could convince everyone else of our wisdom, the world would be so much better off.
Honestly, kids, we know what we're talking about.
Did I mention he came bearing the gift of a mix tape for me?
It's labeled "The Ghosts That Haunt Me" and he gave it to me with the assurance that I'd understand why the songs were chosen.
Knowing his consummate mixing ability, I think I am in for something wonderful and I have my blog to thank for that.
Well, that and the mix tape master.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Your Concern for My Lungs is Touching
So I've been doing my daily walk religiously for years now, regardless of weather or circumstance.
That's not so much the case anymore and sometimes all it takes is the perfect storm of the two for me to just blow it off without a second thought.
Yesterday morning, for instance, followed a late Saturday night with lots of wine and the thermometer was reading 17 degrees.
Walking four miles? I don't think so.
Without a moment's regret, I used that time instead to have a lovely breakfast of oatmeal, bacon and toast slathered with butter and homemade blackberry jam while reading the Sunday Post.
But I was back out there today and as I walked by a small business on Grace Street, the two guys who work there were outside taking a smoke break.
Any time this happens, which is fairly often, I stop for some conversation, so we've kind of gotten to know each other.
When they saw me today and asked how I was, I gave the only logical answer, "Cold. It's 12 degrees out here."
Exhaling smoke, one of them said, "You know, when it's this cold outside, physical activity can be dangerous for your lungs."
You know, as opposed to smoking cigarettes outside in this weather.
Thanks for the tip, guys.
That's not so much the case anymore and sometimes all it takes is the perfect storm of the two for me to just blow it off without a second thought.
Yesterday morning, for instance, followed a late Saturday night with lots of wine and the thermometer was reading 17 degrees.
Walking four miles? I don't think so.
Without a moment's regret, I used that time instead to have a lovely breakfast of oatmeal, bacon and toast slathered with butter and homemade blackberry jam while reading the Sunday Post.
But I was back out there today and as I walked by a small business on Grace Street, the two guys who work there were outside taking a smoke break.
Any time this happens, which is fairly often, I stop for some conversation, so we've kind of gotten to know each other.
When they saw me today and asked how I was, I gave the only logical answer, "Cold. It's 12 degrees out here."
Exhaling smoke, one of them said, "You know, when it's this cold outside, physical activity can be dangerous for your lungs."
You know, as opposed to smoking cigarettes outside in this weather.
Thanks for the tip, guys.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Partying Like It's 2010
Any idiot knows better than to turn down a party invitation from a friend who is both a wine shop owner and a talented cook, especially when the guests are a cross-section of interesting types.
Tonight's final fling at our hostess' recently-sold house provided the opportunity to mingle with assorted people in the wine biz, both new and familiar, a fellow art geek from VMFA, a vegetarian I've known since she was in her teens, a fellow Marionette fan, a butcher and a pizza maker, to name just a few.
And even at this late date, I ran into someone who hadn't heard about my status changes.
Sigh, will I never have to stop sharing that series of unfortunate events?
And the food was to die for.
Pork scallopini with tuna sauce, truffled popcorn, curried oysters, probably the best hummus I've ever tasted, meats from Belmont Butchery, sesame noodles, sweet potato and onion salad and cheese, glorious cheeses and that's only a partial list.
I won't even attempt to list the wine smorgasbord because there were so many wine geek types there, all trying to outdo each other with interesting bottles, benefiting us guests greatly.
Our hostess had made a killer party mix tape, making finding her house a snap because of the booming bass line emanating from it.
Her mix ended up being 11 hours, but she edited it to 6+, so we were constantly hearing good stuff.
Between the well-chosen music, the local gossip and the food scene tidbits I heard tonight, I'd have to say the party was practically perfect.
But then I'm a Gemini, like our hostess, and we're known to be enthusiastic party people.
We just bring both of our selves to the party.
Tonight's final fling at our hostess' recently-sold house provided the opportunity to mingle with assorted people in the wine biz, both new and familiar, a fellow art geek from VMFA, a vegetarian I've known since she was in her teens, a fellow Marionette fan, a butcher and a pizza maker, to name just a few.
And even at this late date, I ran into someone who hadn't heard about my status changes.
Sigh, will I never have to stop sharing that series of unfortunate events?
And the food was to die for.
Pork scallopini with tuna sauce, truffled popcorn, curried oysters, probably the best hummus I've ever tasted, meats from Belmont Butchery, sesame noodles, sweet potato and onion salad and cheese, glorious cheeses and that's only a partial list.
I won't even attempt to list the wine smorgasbord because there were so many wine geek types there, all trying to outdo each other with interesting bottles, benefiting us guests greatly.
Our hostess had made a killer party mix tape, making finding her house a snap because of the booming bass line emanating from it.
Her mix ended up being 11 hours, but she edited it to 6+, so we were constantly hearing good stuff.
Between the well-chosen music, the local gossip and the food scene tidbits I heard tonight, I'd have to say the party was practically perfect.
But then I'm a Gemini, like our hostess, and we're known to be enthusiastic party people.
We just bring both of our selves to the party.
I Miss You Terribly
Temperatures warmer than 60 degrees.
Open windows and the sounds of the city.
Drinking white wine and smoothies.
Shorts and sundresses.
Sleeping without covers.
Having a travel companion.
Showering in cool water.
Fruits grown in this hemisphere.
Working with people I like enough to hang out with after work.
Evening daylight.
Sweating before breakfast.
Eating on the porch.
Having a main squeeze.
Napping because it's too hot to do anything else.
Endless optimism.
i.m.y.t.
Open windows and the sounds of the city.
Drinking white wine and smoothies.
Shorts and sundresses.
Sleeping without covers.
Having a travel companion.
Showering in cool water.
Fruits grown in this hemisphere.
Working with people I like enough to hang out with after work.
Evening daylight.
Sweating before breakfast.
Eating on the porch.
Having a main squeeze.
Napping because it's too hot to do anything else.
Endless optimism.
i.m.y.t.
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.
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.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Cutting the (Ewe) Cheese
Fridays before I go out often find me at the wine tasting at River City Cellars in Carytown. Not always, but often enough to score some wine or cheese for future use. I'm seldom buying for any specific reason other than that I've found a new libation or piece of mold I fancy.
Which makes it a bit like Christmas when I need a bottle or snack before going out. Such was the case tonight as I sat on the couch, cozy under a quilt and reading my book Subterranean: The Hidden Life of Jack Kerouac, a really compelling study of his life-long struggles with his homo/bisexuality. But my attention was gradually being diverted from sex to something baser.
It was my stomach reminding me that my dinner plans don't start for hours and snackage was in order. Fortunately for me, a pre-Christmas visit to RCC had enticed me to buy half a pound of Ossau-Iraty, a raw ewe's milk cheese made from Northern Basque Country sheep (and an AOC) and all of a sudden, it was calling to me.
What a genius I must have been, although I know now that I should have bought at least a pound of this rich, dense, nutty and buttery cheese (50% fat!). As I sit here finishing up the quarter pound I allowed myself for snack time, I seem to recall being told that the nickname for this cheese was the "farmer's dessert," but it's actually richer than most of the desserts I can think of. Crackers or bread not required.
Which means I just ate a quarter pound of dessert and I'm going out to dinner in two hours. Of course, the old axiom, "Life is uncertain. Eat dessert first" gives me the perfect justification for my Ossau-Iraty orgy. Note to self, though: get over to RCC and re-stock. Soon.
Which makes it a bit like Christmas when I need a bottle or snack before going out. Such was the case tonight as I sat on the couch, cozy under a quilt and reading my book Subterranean: The Hidden Life of Jack Kerouac, a really compelling study of his life-long struggles with his homo/bisexuality. But my attention was gradually being diverted from sex to something baser.
It was my stomach reminding me that my dinner plans don't start for hours and snackage was in order. Fortunately for me, a pre-Christmas visit to RCC had enticed me to buy half a pound of Ossau-Iraty, a raw ewe's milk cheese made from Northern Basque Country sheep (and an AOC) and all of a sudden, it was calling to me.
What a genius I must have been, although I know now that I should have bought at least a pound of this rich, dense, nutty and buttery cheese (50% fat!). As I sit here finishing up the quarter pound I allowed myself for snack time, I seem to recall being told that the nickname for this cheese was the "farmer's dessert," but it's actually richer than most of the desserts I can think of. Crackers or bread not required.
Which means I just ate a quarter pound of dessert and I'm going out to dinner in two hours. Of course, the old axiom, "Life is uncertain. Eat dessert first" gives me the perfect justification for my Ossau-Iraty orgy. Note to self, though: get over to RCC and re-stock. Soon.
Today's Lesson on Michael Jackson
Love him or hate him in his later years, I don't know anyone who could deny the sheer musical brilliance of the early Jackson 5 music. And considering how often I hear Jackson 5 songs on a variety of friends' iPods, clearly the music has stood the test of time.
Today I went to a terrific musicology lecture to close out the "Life and Career of Michael Jackson" exhibit at the Black History Museum, located in beautiful downtown Jackson Ward, not that you shouldn't have already known that. The speaker was Roi Boyd, who teaches at Virginia Union and whose personal collection of artifacts, album covers, posters, magazines and newspapers was on display. Today's lecture was about the Jackson 5's early years and included a whole lot of video clips, music clips and pictures; I found the whole thing fascinating and only vaguely unsettling.
I didn't remember just how powerful a singer and amazing a dancer Jackson was at age 9. Or how disturbing it was to watch a ten year old sing songs of passion and love. And I don't think I ever knew that almost all of their first album, the one with the mega-hit "I Want You Back" on it was cover songs (Sly Stone, Stevie Wonder, Four Tops, Delphonics, Temptations).
We got to see the Jackson 5's audition tape for Berry Gordy from back in 1968 and I marveled at how his dance moves were already so well developed at that early stage. Before the group signed to Motown, they were on Steeltown records and we heard an early recording of a song called "Big Boy" from that label. Amazing stuff.
The exhibit included some concert posters, including a specific hand-made one for the Washington, D.C. Victory Tour, a show for which I had tickets and didn't go; undoubtedly I was the only person in the world who made that choice, at least in D.C.
It was a shame that the lecture didn't attract a bigger crowd given how un-lecture like the experience was. It was more of an audio/visual immersion experience in the Jackson 5 and I'm willing to bet that even non-music geeks would have been into it. For a music and lecture lover like me, it was an hour and a half of pure pleasure.
Today I went to a terrific musicology lecture to close out the "Life and Career of Michael Jackson" exhibit at the Black History Museum, located in beautiful downtown Jackson Ward, not that you shouldn't have already known that. The speaker was Roi Boyd, who teaches at Virginia Union and whose personal collection of artifacts, album covers, posters, magazines and newspapers was on display. Today's lecture was about the Jackson 5's early years and included a whole lot of video clips, music clips and pictures; I found the whole thing fascinating and only vaguely unsettling.
I didn't remember just how powerful a singer and amazing a dancer Jackson was at age 9. Or how disturbing it was to watch a ten year old sing songs of passion and love. And I don't think I ever knew that almost all of their first album, the one with the mega-hit "I Want You Back" on it was cover songs (Sly Stone, Stevie Wonder, Four Tops, Delphonics, Temptations).
We got to see the Jackson 5's audition tape for Berry Gordy from back in 1968 and I marveled at how his dance moves were already so well developed at that early stage. Before the group signed to Motown, they were on Steeltown records and we heard an early recording of a song called "Big Boy" from that label. Amazing stuff.
The exhibit included some concert posters, including a specific hand-made one for the Washington, D.C. Victory Tour, a show for which I had tickets and didn't go; undoubtedly I was the only person in the world who made that choice, at least in D.C.
It was a shame that the lecture didn't attract a bigger crowd given how un-lecture like the experience was. It was more of an audio/visual immersion experience in the Jackson 5 and I'm willing to bet that even non-music geeks would have been into it. For a music and lecture lover like me, it was an hour and a half of pure pleasure.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Trying Out Republic Before First Friday
Despite living in Jackson Ward, the epicenter of the arts district, I know enough not to try to eat in my neighborhood on First Friday evenings. Instead, Andrew and I decided to test uncharted waters by going to Republic before starting our gallery hopping.
For those who don't know, Republic is one of those places who opted to divide their restaurant with a door to allow for smoking and non-smoking sections. Despite an initial attempt to sit on the breathable side, it was completely full, so we settled for a table on the smokey side (and by smokey, I mean every bar patron was in full puff mode, including the cigar smokers). Our only consolation was that our table was at least in the far back on what was once the stage.
The food was...well, food. I had a really decent cup of soup of the day (a beef stew) followed by Grilled Chorizo and Ricotta canapes with sauteed onions and drizzled with balsamic reduction; essentially they were bruschetta with unnecessary frisee between the meat and cheese. Andrew had the Three Cheese Macaroni topped with Sauteed Shrimp. Enough said about the food.
Arriving back in J-Ward, our walk to Broad Street revealed plenty of parking and a surprisingly small number of attendees. Apparently Richmonders aren't willing to suffer the cold for the sake of art. At Ada Gallery, Bernard Martin's "New Hero" paintings were large-form takes on vintage comics with random elements included. They were striking, and at $8500 each pricey, but visually arresting to say the least. Ghostprint Gallery had carried over Deborah Turbeville's "Unseen Versailles "show, which I had seen last month. There was a film projection on the side of a building on Jefferson Street between Broad and Marshall, the first time I had seen that, but the temperature discouraged lingering to watch for long.
Gallery 5 was where the action was tonight with "Say Love: An Exhibition of Love and Hate." Photographs of ordinary people defining love and hate lined the walls. In the center of the room was James Robertson's sculpture of a seated figure on a bed. It was a striking centerpiece and the artist had not finished it until 5:20 today. I had a fascinating conversation with him about the installation work he is currently doing for the VMFA; unexpected moments like that are the best reason to attend First Fridays.
Obviously the police department had anticipated the light crowds because the usual traffic-directing and large police presence were absent. We did see cops on bike and foot, but they were more a part of the crowd than anything else, friendly and chatty.
I saw lots of interesting people at Gallery 5, including Tom Robinson, the G5 building's owner, who dropped to his knees to kiss my hand in greeting and what girl doesn't love that? I ran into a favorite fan of my blog with whom I enjoyed an empathetic conversation about my so-called life and then musician Julie Karr, she of the magnificent voice and throaty laugh. She and I caught up after months of not seeing each other; she was the third person this week to tell me I must go check out the magnificence of the recently reopened Cary Street Gym.
Performing live tonight at G5 were Nude Photos of Celebrities, who began with some technical difficulties and moved on to a post-punk kind of set which was quite enjoyable, sort of a wanna-be Bloc Party sound. The crowd was large and into it, but then a free show should always be worth a listen.
You'd think that after all the walking around we did, we might have lost the smokey scent we acquired at Republic, but that wasn't the case. Honestly, though, we aren't Republic's target customers so we'll know to leave our seats to those who are. In any case, they did provide sustenance for the remainder of a fine evening of art and music. And that's what the evening was really about anyway.
For those who don't know, Republic is one of those places who opted to divide their restaurant with a door to allow for smoking and non-smoking sections. Despite an initial attempt to sit on the breathable side, it was completely full, so we settled for a table on the smokey side (and by smokey, I mean every bar patron was in full puff mode, including the cigar smokers). Our only consolation was that our table was at least in the far back on what was once the stage.
The food was...well, food. I had a really decent cup of soup of the day (a beef stew) followed by Grilled Chorizo and Ricotta canapes with sauteed onions and drizzled with balsamic reduction; essentially they were bruschetta with unnecessary frisee between the meat and cheese. Andrew had the Three Cheese Macaroni topped with Sauteed Shrimp. Enough said about the food.
Arriving back in J-Ward, our walk to Broad Street revealed plenty of parking and a surprisingly small number of attendees. Apparently Richmonders aren't willing to suffer the cold for the sake of art. At Ada Gallery, Bernard Martin's "New Hero" paintings were large-form takes on vintage comics with random elements included. They were striking, and at $8500 each pricey, but visually arresting to say the least. Ghostprint Gallery had carried over Deborah Turbeville's "Unseen Versailles "show, which I had seen last month. There was a film projection on the side of a building on Jefferson Street between Broad and Marshall, the first time I had seen that, but the temperature discouraged lingering to watch for long.
Gallery 5 was where the action was tonight with "Say Love: An Exhibition of Love and Hate." Photographs of ordinary people defining love and hate lined the walls. In the center of the room was James Robertson's sculpture of a seated figure on a bed. It was a striking centerpiece and the artist had not finished it until 5:20 today. I had a fascinating conversation with him about the installation work he is currently doing for the VMFA; unexpected moments like that are the best reason to attend First Fridays.
Obviously the police department had anticipated the light crowds because the usual traffic-directing and large police presence were absent. We did see cops on bike and foot, but they were more a part of the crowd than anything else, friendly and chatty.
I saw lots of interesting people at Gallery 5, including Tom Robinson, the G5 building's owner, who dropped to his knees to kiss my hand in greeting and what girl doesn't love that? I ran into a favorite fan of my blog with whom I enjoyed an empathetic conversation about my so-called life and then musician Julie Karr, she of the magnificent voice and throaty laugh. She and I caught up after months of not seeing each other; she was the third person this week to tell me I must go check out the magnificence of the recently reopened Cary Street Gym.
Performing live tonight at G5 were Nude Photos of Celebrities, who began with some technical difficulties and moved on to a post-punk kind of set which was quite enjoyable, sort of a wanna-be Bloc Party sound. The crowd was large and into it, but then a free show should always be worth a listen.
You'd think that after all the walking around we did, we might have lost the smokey scent we acquired at Republic, but that wasn't the case. Honestly, though, we aren't Republic's target customers so we'll know to leave our seats to those who are. In any case, they did provide sustenance for the remainder of a fine evening of art and music. And that's what the evening was really about anyway.
Carytown's Newest Eats: Bonvenu
Carytown beckoned me and two friends last night to check out the newest addition to the eating scene there, Bonvenu, in the space formerly occupied by The Track.
The interior has been vastly altered with lighter walls, sexy lighting and a new booth/table configuration.
The formerly frumpy fuddy-duddy got a Glamour Shots makeover and it's a huge improvement.
Best of all, the bar has been reworked into a larger, more user-friendly shape than the old cramped reverse L-shape.
Staff-wise, there were familiar faces from Mezzanine and Escobar, all friendly and seemingly psyched to welcome customers.
I staked out an end stool, my favorite bar position, followed shortly by Friend 1 and some time later, Friend 2 (not to be confused with Thing 1 and Thing 2).
Because Friend 2's arrival was delayed, we started with a bottle of Over the Edge Pinot Noir.
Midway through the bottle, and with Friend 2 nowhere in sight, we opted to try El Tesoro Tequila Anejo (F1's idea, although I was a most willing participant).
As one of those practically non-existent people who drink only wine and good tequila, I am always eager to try new varieties.
This one tasted of citrus and herbs and was as smooth as silk; for anyone who claims that they just can't stomach tequila, I respectfully suggest that you haven't tried the right one.
With wine and tequila in my recent past, it was time for some sort of victuals and I went with French Onion Soup, a dish I love but which is too often executed in a mediocre manner.
This was excellent and I was halfway through when Friend 2 arrived and the real ordering began in earnest.
F1 got the rack of lamb and F2 the trout.
I went with the Beggars' Purses stuffed with Tasso ham, lump crab meat and chevre with herbed lemon creme fraiche.
F2 was most pleased with her fish and F1 gave me several delicious bites of his cream sauce laden lamb.
My purses were a good size with their obscenely rich contents a nice contrast to the simple wrapper.
Since I can't discuss a restaurant experience without mentioning the audio component, here it is.
The bartender's iPod provided the music, and like so many twenty-somethings, he's a classic rock fan.
Something about not having lived through it seems to make it wildly appealing to subsequent generations (personally, I'm over most of it).
I will give him credit, though.
Although most of the artists were vintage, his song choices showed some creativity; we heard many more obscure tracks than big hits, always a plus in my book.
And yet again, I was rewarded with an enthusiastic "Good for you!" when he learned that I don't have a cell phone.
It never ceases to amaze me how impressed some people are when they discover I live my life without one.
Despite The Track having been the setting for a memorable first date, it was never high on my list of regular destinations.
If my next meal at Bonvenu is as impressive as tonight's was, that won't be the case with Bonvenu.
The interior has been vastly altered with lighter walls, sexy lighting and a new booth/table configuration.
The formerly frumpy fuddy-duddy got a Glamour Shots makeover and it's a huge improvement.
Best of all, the bar has been reworked into a larger, more user-friendly shape than the old cramped reverse L-shape.
Staff-wise, there were familiar faces from Mezzanine and Escobar, all friendly and seemingly psyched to welcome customers.
I staked out an end stool, my favorite bar position, followed shortly by Friend 1 and some time later, Friend 2 (not to be confused with Thing 1 and Thing 2).
Because Friend 2's arrival was delayed, we started with a bottle of Over the Edge Pinot Noir.
Midway through the bottle, and with Friend 2 nowhere in sight, we opted to try El Tesoro Tequila Anejo (F1's idea, although I was a most willing participant).
As one of those practically non-existent people who drink only wine and good tequila, I am always eager to try new varieties.
This one tasted of citrus and herbs and was as smooth as silk; for anyone who claims that they just can't stomach tequila, I respectfully suggest that you haven't tried the right one.
With wine and tequila in my recent past, it was time for some sort of victuals and I went with French Onion Soup, a dish I love but which is too often executed in a mediocre manner.
This was excellent and I was halfway through when Friend 2 arrived and the real ordering began in earnest.
F1 got the rack of lamb and F2 the trout.
I went with the Beggars' Purses stuffed with Tasso ham, lump crab meat and chevre with herbed lemon creme fraiche.
F2 was most pleased with her fish and F1 gave me several delicious bites of his cream sauce laden lamb.
My purses were a good size with their obscenely rich contents a nice contrast to the simple wrapper.
Since I can't discuss a restaurant experience without mentioning the audio component, here it is.
The bartender's iPod provided the music, and like so many twenty-somethings, he's a classic rock fan.
Something about not having lived through it seems to make it wildly appealing to subsequent generations (personally, I'm over most of it).
I will give him credit, though.
Although most of the artists were vintage, his song choices showed some creativity; we heard many more obscure tracks than big hits, always a plus in my book.
And yet again, I was rewarded with an enthusiastic "Good for you!" when he learned that I don't have a cell phone.
It never ceases to amaze me how impressed some people are when they discover I live my life without one.
Despite The Track having been the setting for a memorable first date, it was never high on my list of regular destinations.
If my next meal at Bonvenu is as impressive as tonight's was, that won't be the case with Bonvenu.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Of Mixes, Ice and Deep Thinking
Today was all about a head-clearing road trip. A friend had recently made me two mix tapes and wanted feedback and there's no better way to do that than by taking to the open road to drive and listen and think. The only problem was he didn't provide song listings and I'm way too curious about unfamiliar music not to know who's doing what; hopefully I can get him to correct that.
I've rhapsodized about mix tapes before. These seemed to be a melange of music he favors, newer stuff he's picked up on and some off-beat things he may have even been trying to impress me with. The first listen to a new mix is so enjoyable for the unexpected pleasures.
As for the visual portion of the drive, like an idiot, I forgot my camera, which was a shame because I've never seen the Rappahannock River iced over. In some places, it even looked like there were small ice floes. Just beautiful. I would have loved to have been able to stop the car on the bridge and just admire it but that's generally frowned upon.
Arriving back in the Ward in late afternoon, I felt better for having taken the break to get out of town. Not that I resolved the many issues swirling around in my head, but the music and the river had provided a wonderful interlude.
I've rhapsodized about mix tapes before. These seemed to be a melange of music he favors, newer stuff he's picked up on and some off-beat things he may have even been trying to impress me with. The first listen to a new mix is so enjoyable for the unexpected pleasures.
As for the visual portion of the drive, like an idiot, I forgot my camera, which was a shame because I've never seen the Rappahannock River iced over. In some places, it even looked like there were small ice floes. Just beautiful. I would have loved to have been able to stop the car on the bridge and just admire it but that's generally frowned upon.
Arriving back in the Ward in late afternoon, I felt better for having taken the break to get out of town. Not that I resolved the many issues swirling around in my head, but the music and the river had provided a wonderful interlude.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Birthday Eve Celebration at Avalon
My main complaint with Avalon has always been the ungodly smoke level. Truth be told, the drink prices are excellent and the food is surprisingly good, but gasping through the smoke fog to enjoy eating and drinking has always been problematic. But it's post-December first, so it's a whole new world (cue Disney soundtrack). So it was that I agreed to meet a long-time friend to celebrate his birthday eve at Avalon, something I would have avoided just a short time ago.
Absent smoke aside, the first thing I noticed was the missing hum of the constantly-droning exhaust fans which used to run non-stop to keep up with the smoke volume. The second thing I noted was fewer patrons; don't judge me, but I'm fine with both changes.
To my complete delight, Avalon offered a Pinotage by the glass, which is almost unheard of. The Fantail Pinotage from South Africa was an unexpected pleasure this evening; perhaps that explains the repeated glasses I enjoyed. Of course, the suggested pairing is oxtail and that wasn't available, but I'll take this earthy wine any day I can find it.
My friend of 15 years is smart and funny and almost as big a geek as I am. As a result, we have obscure conversations on subjects that no one else would care about. Card catalogs? Discussed. The Atlanta Pop Festival and mescaline? In depth. Me reaching a year of celibacy as of tomorrow? Woefully acknowledged. The volume of a Kings of Leon show? Both been there (he in New Orleans in 2006, me in Chicago 2007). The urge to edit the writing of others? Overwhelming for both of us.
Our hunger finally got the best of us and we got a double order of the seared foie gras. I don't know how well it complemented his Cote du Rhone, but it married my Pinotage beautifully. After all, it's not like I'm going to find Springbok on a Richmond menu.
I don't quite know what to make of the new and improved Avalon. I certainly don't miss the smoky environs, but the colorful crowd it attracted is conspicuous in its absence. On the other hand, they had a more than decent crowd on a Wednesday night, so perhaps non-smokers have just replaced smokers for the prime bar stool real estate.
Personally, I'll be back for the Pinotage. It's just that I may have to wade through a clutch of outdoor smokers to get to it. And I will.
Absent smoke aside, the first thing I noticed was the missing hum of the constantly-droning exhaust fans which used to run non-stop to keep up with the smoke volume. The second thing I noted was fewer patrons; don't judge me, but I'm fine with both changes.
To my complete delight, Avalon offered a Pinotage by the glass, which is almost unheard of. The Fantail Pinotage from South Africa was an unexpected pleasure this evening; perhaps that explains the repeated glasses I enjoyed. Of course, the suggested pairing is oxtail and that wasn't available, but I'll take this earthy wine any day I can find it.
My friend of 15 years is smart and funny and almost as big a geek as I am. As a result, we have obscure conversations on subjects that no one else would care about. Card catalogs? Discussed. The Atlanta Pop Festival and mescaline? In depth. Me reaching a year of celibacy as of tomorrow? Woefully acknowledged. The volume of a Kings of Leon show? Both been there (he in New Orleans in 2006, me in Chicago 2007). The urge to edit the writing of others? Overwhelming for both of us.
Our hunger finally got the best of us and we got a double order of the seared foie gras. I don't know how well it complemented his Cote du Rhone, but it married my Pinotage beautifully. After all, it's not like I'm going to find Springbok on a Richmond menu.
I don't quite know what to make of the new and improved Avalon. I certainly don't miss the smoky environs, but the colorful crowd it attracted is conspicuous in its absence. On the other hand, they had a more than decent crowd on a Wednesday night, so perhaps non-smokers have just replaced smokers for the prime bar stool real estate.
Personally, I'll be back for the Pinotage. It's just that I may have to wade through a clutch of outdoor smokers to get to it. And I will.
Lunch at European Market and Cafe
It's the week for me to lunch with each of my photographer friends and today we convened at the European Market and Cafe on Main Street to see what they could do for us. I've been to several of their First Friday wine dinners (the best wine dinner value in rva, imho), so I knew their food was good.
With multiple deli cases of meats, wursts of all kinds, cheeses, prepared salads and an extensive sandwich menu, we must have spent the first fifteen minutes just lost in the choices. I had almost decided on the Arc de Triomphe (turkey, bacon, brie with aioli on ciabatta) when I spotted a special that spoke to me: a thin-sliced Angus beef with brie, caramelized onions, roasted red pepper and Dijon mustard panini. Photographer friend got the Calabrese Salad, essentially a large Caprese over mixed greens.
While our taste delights were being assembled, we perused the market stock, admiring marzipan pigs, exotic bottled drinks, salamis, pates and searching in vain for a favorite Pinotage, which was out of stock temporarily. Cafe owner Jason graciously went behind me to look again to ensure I hadn't missed it, but alas. I have no doubt I'll get a call when it arrives.
It was wine rep visiting day, with the entire staff tasting Super Tuscans when I arrived and Morris arriving as we were leaving. You have a to love a job where you're drinking wine at 11:30 in the morning.
My friend and I ambitiously attempted a walk after eating, but the wind convinced us otherwise. Even on the sunny side of the street, two blocks up and back was about all we could manage. Of course I had done my morning walk today, dressed far more suitably, so I wasn't too upset about our abbreviated stroll.
And, being a photographer, my friend shared his thoughts on my latest blog profile picture. He didn't offer to take a replacement shot so maybe he was hoping I'd ask him, but I'd never be so presumptuous. They're just legs, after all, so how important is it to have the definitive picture of them?
With multiple deli cases of meats, wursts of all kinds, cheeses, prepared salads and an extensive sandwich menu, we must have spent the first fifteen minutes just lost in the choices. I had almost decided on the Arc de Triomphe (turkey, bacon, brie with aioli on ciabatta) when I spotted a special that spoke to me: a thin-sliced Angus beef with brie, caramelized onions, roasted red pepper and Dijon mustard panini. Photographer friend got the Calabrese Salad, essentially a large Caprese over mixed greens.
While our taste delights were being assembled, we perused the market stock, admiring marzipan pigs, exotic bottled drinks, salamis, pates and searching in vain for a favorite Pinotage, which was out of stock temporarily. Cafe owner Jason graciously went behind me to look again to ensure I hadn't missed it, but alas. I have no doubt I'll get a call when it arrives.
It was wine rep visiting day, with the entire staff tasting Super Tuscans when I arrived and Morris arriving as we were leaving. You have a to love a job where you're drinking wine at 11:30 in the morning.
My friend and I ambitiously attempted a walk after eating, but the wind convinced us otherwise. Even on the sunny side of the street, two blocks up and back was about all we could manage. Of course I had done my morning walk today, dressed far more suitably, so I wasn't too upset about our abbreviated stroll.
And, being a photographer, my friend shared his thoughts on my latest blog profile picture. He didn't offer to take a replacement shot so maybe he was hoping I'd ask him, but I'd never be so presumptuous. They're just legs, after all, so how important is it to have the definitive picture of them?
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
You Talking to Me?
It was an especially great day for random comments, good and odd, directed my way. Maybe it's time to change the sign on my forehead...or something.
"I should have known you'd be here. Are you in the Mekong Beer Club?"
-A local boutique owner on finding me at the bar with a laid off girlfriend wining and dining at Six Burner tonight. And the connection is...?
"You know you love it when that happens. Just like I love it when I open my mouth and surprise people."
- A friend who waited out a long-winded conversation to regain my attention. Yes and thanks for harshing my mellow.
"Every minute of every hour I spent on this project my heart ached for you. Every minute. Of every hour."
-An ex (from the 90s!) on transferring VHS tapes to DVD. Oh, come on.
"You're sure to be a twitter hit if you dare to go there."
-A friend and fellow music geek. Aw, shucks.
"It was your witty repartee that made it worth coming in."
-Customer leaving a coffee shop about our conversation. My kind of compliment.
"The thing about living in DC was, sometimes I couldn't remember where my house was. Did that ever happen to you ? "
-Local street legend Richard on the subject of living in Washington, my former hometown. Can't say that it did, Richard.
And so it goes...
"I should have known you'd be here. Are you in the Mekong Beer Club?"
-A local boutique owner on finding me at the bar with a laid off girlfriend wining and dining at Six Burner tonight. And the connection is...?
"You know you love it when that happens. Just like I love it when I open my mouth and surprise people."
- A friend who waited out a long-winded conversation to regain my attention. Yes and thanks for harshing my mellow.
"Every minute of every hour I spent on this project my heart ached for you. Every minute. Of every hour."
-An ex (from the 90s!) on transferring VHS tapes to DVD. Oh, come on.
"You're sure to be a twitter hit if you dare to go there."
-A friend and fellow music geek. Aw, shucks.
"It was your witty repartee that made it worth coming in."
-Customer leaving a coffee shop about our conversation. My kind of compliment.
"The thing about living in DC was, sometimes I couldn't remember where my house was. Did that ever happen to you ? "
-Local street legend Richard on the subject of living in Washington, my former hometown. Can't say that it did, Richard.
And so it goes...
Pie for Pizza and Music Talk
Since I was meeting a pizza-loving friend for lunch today, I suggested we check out rva's latest pizza destination, Pie, across from Balliceaux. My friend has always said he could eat pizza every day of the week, so it wasn't a hard sell.
Pie replaces Si on Lombardy and the interior looks exactly the same, not that that's a problem since Si was an attractive little place. The menu was simple and included various heats of wings, salads and red and white pizza. We went with the Blanca (extra garlic, Fontina and mozzarella) with pepperoni to ensure a little grease with our white sauce. Our server told us that it's the owner making all the pizzas because, despite having owned restaurants for years, a pizza place has always been his greatest desire.
The thin-crusted pizza pleased us both, with loads of garlic, plenty of cheese and enough pepperoni to satisfy our need for meat. There were only two other diners in the place when we arrived and as they left, they both stuck their noses over our pizza and swooned over the smell. It was alluring.
After making short work of our pie, we chatted up our server about the house-made dough, the new pizza oven, their soft opening, and plans for delivery; when I asked if they'd be delivering to J-Ward, he said the owner hates to say no, so it was likely they would.
My final question was about the dreadful music being played (bleh! Liberty radio) and he explained that he'd forgotten his iPod, so had reverted to the radio station already set. I wanted to know what would have been on his iPod, so I'd know how much better than Liberty it would have been.
He named a few bands on his playlist (Kings of Convenience being one!) and we quickly digressed into a discussion of our similar taste in music. He said, "I am so impressed that you know all these bands," which led to a big old music conversation about post-rock, indie rock and local music. We'd even been to several of the same local shows, so we got to compare notes. Before long, he told me that if I ever need someone to go to shows with (and I do sometimes), he would love to get out to hear more live music. And then he thanked me again for such an excellent music conversation, an occurrence he says almost never happens. How tragic is that?
So I left with a full belly and a potential band buddy, a great outcome for lunch. Next up was the driving portion of the afternoon, as we cruised east to chart unfamiliar roads. Williamsburg Road led us right by Country Style Donuts (a favorite of friends of mine who need a late night sweet after the bars close) where I got a chocolate-glazed cake donut. True, the woman behind the counter looked at me like I was from another planet, but who cares when I've got a crusty frosted donut in hand?
We drove out past the airport, up through the battlefields and looped back around through the projects. Crossing into Hanover County, it was amazing how quickly we began seeing barns and silos, spurring a discussion of why anyone would choose to live in those areas. Yes, we're city folk and we just don't get it.
I greatly enjoyed my pizza and music talk, my friend took more pictures of my legs for my profile and I saw parts of Richmond I'd never laid eyes on. Now that's what I call a good afternoon.
Pie replaces Si on Lombardy and the interior looks exactly the same, not that that's a problem since Si was an attractive little place. The menu was simple and included various heats of wings, salads and red and white pizza. We went with the Blanca (extra garlic, Fontina and mozzarella) with pepperoni to ensure a little grease with our white sauce. Our server told us that it's the owner making all the pizzas because, despite having owned restaurants for years, a pizza place has always been his greatest desire.
The thin-crusted pizza pleased us both, with loads of garlic, plenty of cheese and enough pepperoni to satisfy our need for meat. There were only two other diners in the place when we arrived and as they left, they both stuck their noses over our pizza and swooned over the smell. It was alluring.
After making short work of our pie, we chatted up our server about the house-made dough, the new pizza oven, their soft opening, and plans for delivery; when I asked if they'd be delivering to J-Ward, he said the owner hates to say no, so it was likely they would.
My final question was about the dreadful music being played (bleh! Liberty radio) and he explained that he'd forgotten his iPod, so had reverted to the radio station already set. I wanted to know what would have been on his iPod, so I'd know how much better than Liberty it would have been.
He named a few bands on his playlist (Kings of Convenience being one!) and we quickly digressed into a discussion of our similar taste in music. He said, "I am so impressed that you know all these bands," which led to a big old music conversation about post-rock, indie rock and local music. We'd even been to several of the same local shows, so we got to compare notes. Before long, he told me that if I ever need someone to go to shows with (and I do sometimes), he would love to get out to hear more live music. And then he thanked me again for such an excellent music conversation, an occurrence he says almost never happens. How tragic is that?
So I left with a full belly and a potential band buddy, a great outcome for lunch. Next up was the driving portion of the afternoon, as we cruised east to chart unfamiliar roads. Williamsburg Road led us right by Country Style Donuts (a favorite of friends of mine who need a late night sweet after the bars close) where I got a chocolate-glazed cake donut. True, the woman behind the counter looked at me like I was from another planet, but who cares when I've got a crusty frosted donut in hand?
We drove out past the airport, up through the battlefields and looped back around through the projects. Crossing into Hanover County, it was amazing how quickly we began seeing barns and silos, spurring a discussion of why anyone would choose to live in those areas. Yes, we're city folk and we just don't get it.
I greatly enjoyed my pizza and music talk, my friend took more pictures of my legs for my profile and I saw parts of Richmond I'd never laid eyes on. Now that's what I call a good afternoon.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Black Sheep Did Me In
Some dishes are just not worth cooking for one person, not because they're necessarily difficult to make, but because the leftovers don't keep well.
So it was that I took my craving for chicken and dumplings along with my book to the Black Sheep tonight for a big plate of creamy goodness.
I'd heard raves about this dish from people who can't resist ordering it every time they go in and I had yet to try it.
But before I even got to that, I was seduced by the Soup D.J.
When I asked my server (the lovely Melissa, always a great conversational partner) what tonight's was she said, "Jalapeno Corn Chowder...but it's got bacon in it."
Sold! I might not have been as tempted without the pig part, but I was a goner when I heard that.
Good call on my part because it was divine, thick and chunky with corn and bacon and a nice heat on the back end.
Later I heard a nearby diner ask her if the chowder was good.
That was my cue to jump right in and tell him how much I liked it and why, resulting in him ordering it.
He thanked me for the heads up afterwards.
Like most orders at the Black Sheep, the portion was huge with six dumplings and an overly generous amount of white and dark chicken swimming in a deep pool of gravy.
The only thing I would have changed about it was more and larger chunks of carrot, but perhaps not everyone likes carrots as much as I do.
After finishing all but two of my dumplings, I took a break to read my book, hoping to allow time enough to have room for one of my favorite Richmond restaurant desserts, the La Brea Tarpit (a chocolate creme brulee).
Alas, forty minutes later, I was still stuffed beyond belief and had to tell an incredulous Melissa that I wasn't going to be able to manage dessert.
Even she looked sad about it.
When she brought my check though, she also brought a small brown bag to me and said, "It's not a tarpit, it's one of those brownies my Mom makes. I know how you love your chocolate, so you can eat it later."
And, just to be clear, this is no ordinary brownie; this is what we used to call a meltaway.
It's a large cake brownie, topped with a mint butter cream frosting and holding that in place is a layer of hardened dark chocolate.
I wasn't the only one eating the chicken and dumplings tonight, but the star of the evening and the item the kitchen sold out of was the Pork and Beans.
Before you question that, let me explain that it's a grilled maple-brined pork chop with house-made baked beans and roasted apples with figs.
As sorely tempted as I am to go back for for p & b real soon, I already promised Melissa that on my next visit, I would not disappoint again.
I'll be there for red wine and chocolate only.
So it was that I took my craving for chicken and dumplings along with my book to the Black Sheep tonight for a big plate of creamy goodness.
I'd heard raves about this dish from people who can't resist ordering it every time they go in and I had yet to try it.
But before I even got to that, I was seduced by the Soup D.J.
When I asked my server (the lovely Melissa, always a great conversational partner) what tonight's was she said, "Jalapeno Corn Chowder...but it's got bacon in it."
Sold! I might not have been as tempted without the pig part, but I was a goner when I heard that.
Good call on my part because it was divine, thick and chunky with corn and bacon and a nice heat on the back end.
Later I heard a nearby diner ask her if the chowder was good.
That was my cue to jump right in and tell him how much I liked it and why, resulting in him ordering it.
He thanked me for the heads up afterwards.
Like most orders at the Black Sheep, the portion was huge with six dumplings and an overly generous amount of white and dark chicken swimming in a deep pool of gravy.
The only thing I would have changed about it was more and larger chunks of carrot, but perhaps not everyone likes carrots as much as I do.
After finishing all but two of my dumplings, I took a break to read my book, hoping to allow time enough to have room for one of my favorite Richmond restaurant desserts, the La Brea Tarpit (a chocolate creme brulee).
Alas, forty minutes later, I was still stuffed beyond belief and had to tell an incredulous Melissa that I wasn't going to be able to manage dessert.
Even she looked sad about it.
When she brought my check though, she also brought a small brown bag to me and said, "It's not a tarpit, it's one of those brownies my Mom makes. I know how you love your chocolate, so you can eat it later."
And, just to be clear, this is no ordinary brownie; this is what we used to call a meltaway.
It's a large cake brownie, topped with a mint butter cream frosting and holding that in place is a layer of hardened dark chocolate.
I wasn't the only one eating the chicken and dumplings tonight, but the star of the evening and the item the kitchen sold out of was the Pork and Beans.
Before you question that, let me explain that it's a grilled maple-brined pork chop with house-made baked beans and roasted apples with figs.
As sorely tempted as I am to go back for for p & b real soon, I already promised Melissa that on my next visit, I would not disappoint again.
I'll be there for red wine and chocolate only.
Aurora Scratched My Bakery Itch
When I was in college, I told my boyfriend Curt that I wanted to open a bakery when I finished school.
He thought it would be a bad idea and his reasoning was that I would end up the size of a house if I baked for a living.
Being young and gullible, I believed him and gave up on that idea pretty quickly, but my love of baked goods grew exponentially anyway.
Needless to say, I don't need much of an excuse to visit a bakery, so when a friend mentioned that she hadn't eaten much of anything today, I suggested an impromptu trip to Aurora and their bakery over at Fourth and Grace Streets.
How better to improve a Monday afternoon?
When we got there, the place was empty except for an employee at the bar and Aurora's baker Scott Davison who, when asked if we could get some baked goods, insisted we start with a sample.
He told us the story of the Sarah Bernhardt pastry, created by culinary legend Escoffier to win the favor of the actress.
It was an almond macaroon topped with a bulb of dark Meyers Rum-spiked chocolate whipped cream which was frozen and then dipped in chocolate pate glace.
Oh. My.
We each scarfed one down in an embarrassingly short amount of time and that was only the beginning.
When Scott found out I was from D.C., he regaled us with stories of places there he had worked, including the Hay-Adams Hotel, the Ritz Carlton and one of my favorite off-the-beaten track restaurants, the 50-year old L'Auberge Chez Francois.
All the while we were eyeing the case for what we were going to buy and take home.
So many choices in individual servings!
Mini Boston Creme Pies, Chocolate Truffle Tortes, Apple Strudel, Harlequin Italian Shortbread cookies, Lemon Tarts, Lithuanian Tarts.
After much deliberation, I got the Linzer Torte and the Tuscan Filberts; my friend got a half dozen goodies to share with her main squeeze.
By the way, for you caffeine junkies, coffee is complimentary when you buy a bakery item.
As we left half an hour later with our little white boxes and bags, it occurred to me that Curt may have been right about me and baked goods.
Besides, with a bakery the likes of Aurora a half mile away, I think I'll let Scott get up at 2 a.m. and do the baking while I sleep.
These days, that's more like when I'm going to bed.
He thought it would be a bad idea and his reasoning was that I would end up the size of a house if I baked for a living.
Being young and gullible, I believed him and gave up on that idea pretty quickly, but my love of baked goods grew exponentially anyway.
Needless to say, I don't need much of an excuse to visit a bakery, so when a friend mentioned that she hadn't eaten much of anything today, I suggested an impromptu trip to Aurora and their bakery over at Fourth and Grace Streets.
How better to improve a Monday afternoon?
When we got there, the place was empty except for an employee at the bar and Aurora's baker Scott Davison who, when asked if we could get some baked goods, insisted we start with a sample.
He told us the story of the Sarah Bernhardt pastry, created by culinary legend Escoffier to win the favor of the actress.
It was an almond macaroon topped with a bulb of dark Meyers Rum-spiked chocolate whipped cream which was frozen and then dipped in chocolate pate glace.
Oh. My.
We each scarfed one down in an embarrassingly short amount of time and that was only the beginning.
When Scott found out I was from D.C., he regaled us with stories of places there he had worked, including the Hay-Adams Hotel, the Ritz Carlton and one of my favorite off-the-beaten track restaurants, the 50-year old L'Auberge Chez Francois.
All the while we were eyeing the case for what we were going to buy and take home.
So many choices in individual servings!
Mini Boston Creme Pies, Chocolate Truffle Tortes, Apple Strudel, Harlequin Italian Shortbread cookies, Lemon Tarts, Lithuanian Tarts.
After much deliberation, I got the Linzer Torte and the Tuscan Filberts; my friend got a half dozen goodies to share with her main squeeze.
By the way, for you caffeine junkies, coffee is complimentary when you buy a bakery item.
As we left half an hour later with our little white boxes and bags, it occurred to me that Curt may have been right about me and baked goods.
Besides, with a bakery the likes of Aurora a half mile away, I think I'll let Scott get up at 2 a.m. and do the baking while I sleep.
These days, that's more like when I'm going to bed.
I Blog for the Compliments
There are myriad reasons why people blog.
Personally, I started because it was something I'd been required to do at my last job and I discovered I missed it once I got laid off.
I've always been an enthusiastic writer (I've written tomes to past loves via e-mail) and, as my profile indicates, I have an opinion on just about everything.
Given how effortless writing is for me, blogging was a no-brainer.
The longer I do it though, the more often I am reminded of its far-reaching effects.
One of those is that when I'm out with people who know I blog, they'll say something off-color or not for public knowledge and then quickly tell me, "Don't put that in the blog!"
99% of the time, what they've said wasn't blog-worthy anyway.
Not long ago, I was at a live music show and someone I knew only by sight came up and asked me if I was the ICGOAO blogger.
Yes, I told her, but how the hell did you know that?
Apparently she was already a regular reader and had recently been at a restaurant the same night as I had and noticed me.
When she saw my post the next day, she put two and two together.
She'd even tried new restaurants based solely on some of my posts and loved them.
Best of all, she'd recommended my blog to many of her friends as a must-read.
A former neighbor with whom I hadn't spoken in years and recently saw told me that I was one of two blogs he reads regularly and had somehow figured out that it was mine.
He complimented my enthusiasm for and knowledge about all the great stuff that goes on in RVA.
Walking into Gallery 5 one evening, a photographer I know said hi and asked why he wasn't following me on Twitter.
Well, because I don't tweet I told him, I only blog.
But the fact was he thought I'd be interesting enough to want to follow and I don't even know what I'd said or done to give him that impression.
I've heard from out-of-town bands I've written up and authors whose readings I've attended.
No less than three winemakers I've met at wine dinners have contacted me after reading my blog.
And now Richmond.com has gone and put me on their "Favorite Stuff of 2009" along with only two other blogs.
It seems my "very active lifestyle" and "witty commentary of the people and places in our fair city" caught their collective eye.
Of course, the humor there is that they are my former employer, so essentially I was laid off and lauded, which I see as way better than laid off and ignored.
I've always been one of those people to whom surprising things are said and interesting things happen.
In the past, I had a significant other to share these great stories with.
Since that's no longer the case, I now share them with the online world but who knew how interested they'd be in my odd little life? I certainly can't say I did.
On the other hand, I'll take the compliments wherever I can get them.
Personally, I started because it was something I'd been required to do at my last job and I discovered I missed it once I got laid off.
I've always been an enthusiastic writer (I've written tomes to past loves via e-mail) and, as my profile indicates, I have an opinion on just about everything.
Given how effortless writing is for me, blogging was a no-brainer.
The longer I do it though, the more often I am reminded of its far-reaching effects.
One of those is that when I'm out with people who know I blog, they'll say something off-color or not for public knowledge and then quickly tell me, "Don't put that in the blog!"
99% of the time, what they've said wasn't blog-worthy anyway.
Not long ago, I was at a live music show and someone I knew only by sight came up and asked me if I was the ICGOAO blogger.
Yes, I told her, but how the hell did you know that?
Apparently she was already a regular reader and had recently been at a restaurant the same night as I had and noticed me.
When she saw my post the next day, she put two and two together.
She'd even tried new restaurants based solely on some of my posts and loved them.
Best of all, she'd recommended my blog to many of her friends as a must-read.
A former neighbor with whom I hadn't spoken in years and recently saw told me that I was one of two blogs he reads regularly and had somehow figured out that it was mine.
He complimented my enthusiasm for and knowledge about all the great stuff that goes on in RVA.
Walking into Gallery 5 one evening, a photographer I know said hi and asked why he wasn't following me on Twitter.
Well, because I don't tweet I told him, I only blog.
But the fact was he thought I'd be interesting enough to want to follow and I don't even know what I'd said or done to give him that impression.
I've heard from out-of-town bands I've written up and authors whose readings I've attended.
No less than three winemakers I've met at wine dinners have contacted me after reading my blog.
And now Richmond.com has gone and put me on their "Favorite Stuff of 2009" along with only two other blogs.
It seems my "very active lifestyle" and "witty commentary of the people and places in our fair city" caught their collective eye.
Of course, the humor there is that they are my former employer, so essentially I was laid off and lauded, which I see as way better than laid off and ignored.
I've always been one of those people to whom surprising things are said and interesting things happen.
In the past, I had a significant other to share these great stories with.
Since that's no longer the case, I now share them with the online world but who knew how interested they'd be in my odd little life? I certainly can't say I did.
On the other hand, I'll take the compliments wherever I can get them.
Josh Small Warmed Up Live at Ipanema
What's the best way to spend another ungodly cold evening?
The obvious aside (still not there yet), listening to live music, of course.
It was the monthly Live at Ipanema show tonight with Josh Small performing and as a bonus, his Dad playing with him for the first half of the set.
Pop Small played banjo and harmonica and had a good-sized repertoire, everything from Vietnam-era songs to bawdy Christmas tunes.
He even did a song to apologize to his wife for what he did at Wendy's today that put him in the doghouse.
It became clear with each passing number the source from which his son gets his talent.
I've seen Josh perform before and he excels at the earnest singer-songwriter role.
For a change, the crowd respectfully shut up, so it was a wonderful atmosphere for focusing on the music; often that's not the case at these shows.
Then too, enjoying the performance sans cigarette smoke only made it more pleasurable. Josh is a favorite in the local music scene, as evidenced by the large number of musicians present in the crowd tonight.
It's like choosing an ethnic restaurant where lots of people from that ethnicity eat; you know it's going to be good if they're there.
I met one of the tattoo artists who works above Ipanema and he shared some great stories about life over top of the restaurant.
Everything from water leaking down from their Christmas tree stand into the restaurant (not that I realized tattoo places put up Christmas trees) to the VCU cops lecturing them about setting off firecrackers which might scare old ladies into thinking they were gunshots (don't these cops have bigger things with which to concern themselves?).
What we had in common was our daily view of Grace Street, always a ripe setting for colorful characters and goings-on.
And now an excellent evening of live music is over and it's still an ungodly cold night.
I guess I'm still hoping for a late night way to make the best of this obscenely cold weather.
I'm thinking that warm thoughts alone won't do it.
The obvious aside (still not there yet), listening to live music, of course.
It was the monthly Live at Ipanema show tonight with Josh Small performing and as a bonus, his Dad playing with him for the first half of the set.
Pop Small played banjo and harmonica and had a good-sized repertoire, everything from Vietnam-era songs to bawdy Christmas tunes.
He even did a song to apologize to his wife for what he did at Wendy's today that put him in the doghouse.
It became clear with each passing number the source from which his son gets his talent.
I've seen Josh perform before and he excels at the earnest singer-songwriter role.
For a change, the crowd respectfully shut up, so it was a wonderful atmosphere for focusing on the music; often that's not the case at these shows.
Then too, enjoying the performance sans cigarette smoke only made it more pleasurable. Josh is a favorite in the local music scene, as evidenced by the large number of musicians present in the crowd tonight.
It's like choosing an ethnic restaurant where lots of people from that ethnicity eat; you know it's going to be good if they're there.
I met one of the tattoo artists who works above Ipanema and he shared some great stories about life over top of the restaurant.
Everything from water leaking down from their Christmas tree stand into the restaurant (not that I realized tattoo places put up Christmas trees) to the VCU cops lecturing them about setting off firecrackers which might scare old ladies into thinking they were gunshots (don't these cops have bigger things with which to concern themselves?).
What we had in common was our daily view of Grace Street, always a ripe setting for colorful characters and goings-on.
And now an excellent evening of live music is over and it's still an ungodly cold night.
I guess I'm still hoping for a late night way to make the best of this obscenely cold weather.
I'm thinking that warm thoughts alone won't do it.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
27 on Arriving at Bistro 27
No, the temperature did not determine my destination tonight, but damn it's cold out there. And they can call it 27, but with that fierce wind, it feels like 18. It's all relative, though, because my friend in North Dakota told me it was 30 below there, so maybe I should just quit my whining.
Bistro 27 had practically a full bar when I arrived, meaning my regular seat was taken, but I snagged a stool and settled in to wait for my friend to arrive. The couple occupying my place of honor were only there because their regular seats on the other side of the bar were occupied when they arrived. We decided that we may have to label these stools to prevent interlopers.
The restaurant had a a lot of groups of happy couples meeting for dinner tonight, so maybe it was a delayed New Year's celebration night for some. And as usual, I was greeted by a name other than my own upon arrival (this time, it was Kathy), continuing the 27 tradition of deliberately calling me anything but my real name.
I had the veal scallopini with asparagus, prosciutto and Swiss cheese in a demi-glace which came with mashed potatoes and sauteed greens; my friend did the Chicken Cordon Bleu. My dish were rich and filling and accompanied by a bottle and glass of a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc.
Surprisingly, the regulars next to us asked for a dessert recommendation so I suggested the chocolate mousse for a light finish. They'd had the hazelnut chocolate torte before, but were pretty full after the one-two punch of rock fish and veal. After my enthusiastic pitch for it, my friend felt the need for us to share one too. Okay, twist my arm and I'll get dessert with you.
Our after-dinner conversation centered around male friends who attempt to inappropriately cross the friendship line. It's happened to us both so we solicited the manager to defend his sex for such behavior. He stuttered and stumbled and ultimately couldn't.
Dreading the cold outside, we eventually bundled up and left the warmth for the 25 degree streets. How do girls in dresses and tights manage in North Dakota anyway?
Bistro 27 had practically a full bar when I arrived, meaning my regular seat was taken, but I snagged a stool and settled in to wait for my friend to arrive. The couple occupying my place of honor were only there because their regular seats on the other side of the bar were occupied when they arrived. We decided that we may have to label these stools to prevent interlopers.
The restaurant had a a lot of groups of happy couples meeting for dinner tonight, so maybe it was a delayed New Year's celebration night for some. And as usual, I was greeted by a name other than my own upon arrival (this time, it was Kathy), continuing the 27 tradition of deliberately calling me anything but my real name.
I had the veal scallopini with asparagus, prosciutto and Swiss cheese in a demi-glace which came with mashed potatoes and sauteed greens; my friend did the Chicken Cordon Bleu. My dish were rich and filling and accompanied by a bottle and glass of a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc.
Surprisingly, the regulars next to us asked for a dessert recommendation so I suggested the chocolate mousse for a light finish. They'd had the hazelnut chocolate torte before, but were pretty full after the one-two punch of rock fish and veal. After my enthusiastic pitch for it, my friend felt the need for us to share one too. Okay, twist my arm and I'll get dessert with you.
Our after-dinner conversation centered around male friends who attempt to inappropriately cross the friendship line. It's happened to us both so we solicited the manager to defend his sex for such behavior. He stuttered and stumbled and ultimately couldn't.
Dreading the cold outside, we eventually bundled up and left the warmth for the 25 degree streets. How do girls in dresses and tights manage in North Dakota anyway?
Resolved to Stay Skewed
I've never been the type to make New Year's resolutions; if something in my life needed addressing, why wait for a holiday to change it?
I attributed my attitude to general complacency but perhaps I'd just reached the age where I pretty much was what I was and trying to change would have been futile.
That is, until this year. Back last January, I got pneumonia and by that, I don't mean walking pneumonia or bacterial pneumonia, I mean weeks of of being sick before being put on a week of complete bed rest, followed by five days in the Intensive Care Unit.
I lost over a month of my life.
Not long before that, I had done a thorough cleaning on an old, unfinished closet in a mid-19th century house and inhaled something to which I'd had an asthmatic reaction which degenerated into pneumonia (the pulmonary specialist thought it most likely to have been bird or rodent droppings that caused it).
In any case, the result was me being sicker than I've ever been in my entire life.
What was interesting about the whole experience was that I came out of it Changed with a capital C.
I don't know if it was a physiological reaction or just the reminder of my mortality, but I wasn't the same person once I recovered.
Habits of a lifetime went away.
Things that I used to avoid became part of my regular routine.
Judgments about choices changed.
My openness to people was altered.
Even my physical self has morphed into something different than what it was before.
And people have noticed.
Comments have been made to me about the changes in everything from my punctuality to my drinking to my breasts.
Oh, yes, and the differences in my eating habits, my optimism and my lifestyle. And the list goes on.
So given all the alterations in who I am now, I think I will make a blanket resolution, not just for 2009, but for life.
Resolved: I've accepted who I've become even if it seldom resembles who I was for most of my life.
For better or for worse, it looks like Version 2.0 is what I'll be going with from here on out.
You got a problem with that?
I attributed my attitude to general complacency but perhaps I'd just reached the age where I pretty much was what I was and trying to change would have been futile.
That is, until this year. Back last January, I got pneumonia and by that, I don't mean walking pneumonia or bacterial pneumonia, I mean weeks of of being sick before being put on a week of complete bed rest, followed by five days in the Intensive Care Unit.
I lost over a month of my life.
Not long before that, I had done a thorough cleaning on an old, unfinished closet in a mid-19th century house and inhaled something to which I'd had an asthmatic reaction which degenerated into pneumonia (the pulmonary specialist thought it most likely to have been bird or rodent droppings that caused it).
In any case, the result was me being sicker than I've ever been in my entire life.
What was interesting about the whole experience was that I came out of it Changed with a capital C.
I don't know if it was a physiological reaction or just the reminder of my mortality, but I wasn't the same person once I recovered.
Habits of a lifetime went away.
Things that I used to avoid became part of my regular routine.
Judgments about choices changed.
My openness to people was altered.
Even my physical self has morphed into something different than what it was before.
And people have noticed.
Comments have been made to me about the changes in everything from my punctuality to my drinking to my breasts.
Oh, yes, and the differences in my eating habits, my optimism and my lifestyle. And the list goes on.
So given all the alterations in who I am now, I think I will make a blanket resolution, not just for 2009, but for life.
Resolved: I've accepted who I've become even if it seldom resembles who I was for most of my life.
For better or for worse, it looks like Version 2.0 is what I'll be going with from here on out.
You got a problem with that?
Friday, January 1, 2010
Open and Inviting at Tarrant's
All is quiet on New Year's Day, at least in the restaurant biz it seems. But it's Friday night and girls just want to have fun, so it was up to me to find someplace smart enough to be open. When I realized that my friend had not yet been to Tarrant's, it seemed like a golden opportunity to break her in and chat up my favorite friendly neighborhood bartender.
Of note for those of us who like to sit at the bar at Tarrant's is the change in the door orientation so it no longer opens onto the poor bar stool-sitting patrons. Even so, I chose stools near the end of the bar, the better to distance ourselves from what cold air did make it in and position ourselves to get maximum chat value from the barkeep.
We drank local with a bottle of the White Hall Viognier. a grape new to my friend but a favorite of mine. When the bartender asked her if she liked it, she responded, "I like wine." He laughed, saying he appreciated her directness.. I went with the grilled Mahi-Mahi sandwich with tartar sauce and house-made chips and she went the comfort food route with a bacon grilled cheese sandwich, mashed potatoes and creamed spinach. My sandwich was way large and hers was way thick so we both had a lot to eat.
Afterwards, we admired some of the old photographs of Tarrant's, a quaint reminder of its long-time presence in the neighborhood. We got a big kick out of a couple of old prescriptions written when it was still a drugstore back during the days of Prohibition; each was for a gallon of beer, to be taken a s directed. One Rx stated that the beer was for the treatment of diabetes. Riiiight. They're framed and hung, so history nerds like me can admire them.
Our gracious bartender presented us with the enormous brownie a la mode and shortly afterwards one of the waitresses insisted we taste the bread pudding a la mode. Delicious, both of them. We did what we could, but by this point we'd been there for three hours and were close to rolling off our stools, so we had to say when.
Our big topic of the evening was karma and the wait for what comes around to go around; it was the ideal conversation to have over a New Year's Day meal. One of the pleasures of Tarrant's has always been their daily schedule and tonight we appreciated how good of them it was to be open so we could begin 2010 within their cozy confines.
Of note for those of us who like to sit at the bar at Tarrant's is the change in the door orientation so it no longer opens onto the poor bar stool-sitting patrons. Even so, I chose stools near the end of the bar, the better to distance ourselves from what cold air did make it in and position ourselves to get maximum chat value from the barkeep.
We drank local with a bottle of the White Hall Viognier. a grape new to my friend but a favorite of mine. When the bartender asked her if she liked it, she responded, "I like wine." He laughed, saying he appreciated her directness.. I went with the grilled Mahi-Mahi sandwich with tartar sauce and house-made chips and she went the comfort food route with a bacon grilled cheese sandwich, mashed potatoes and creamed spinach. My sandwich was way large and hers was way thick so we both had a lot to eat.
Afterwards, we admired some of the old photographs of Tarrant's, a quaint reminder of its long-time presence in the neighborhood. We got a big kick out of a couple of old prescriptions written when it was still a drugstore back during the days of Prohibition; each was for a gallon of beer, to be taken a s directed. One Rx stated that the beer was for the treatment of diabetes. Riiiight. They're framed and hung, so history nerds like me can admire them.
Our gracious bartender presented us with the enormous brownie a la mode and shortly afterwards one of the waitresses insisted we taste the bread pudding a la mode. Delicious, both of them. We did what we could, but by this point we'd been there for three hours and were close to rolling off our stools, so we had to say when.
Our big topic of the evening was karma and the wait for what comes around to go around; it was the ideal conversation to have over a New Year's Day meal. One of the pleasures of Tarrant's has always been their daily schedule and tonight we appreciated how good of them it was to be open so we could begin 2010 within their cozy confines.
Ringing in the New Year at Ipanema
I was hoping that last night's blue moon would signal an auspicious start to 2010 after my disastrous 2009, but first I had to find something to do for the changeover.
Since I haven't been in town for NYE since 2004, I was at a loss.
Fortunately for me, Kendra at Ipanema decided to close the restaurant and throw a Shanghai Surprise themed evening and I was invited to join the hijinks.
I spent the late afternoon helping to transform the restaurant into an Asian den of inequity, draping gauzy fabric around the booths to create intimate alcoves, hanging Chinese lanterns from the already precariously low ceiling and covering the walls in intricate paper cut-outs.
The front area was cleared for the dancing masses and everything was set.
When I arrived back around 9ish, guests were already gathering.
Cam from Denali was DJing and dim sum covered the back tables. It was to be a great party with plenty of good people to talk to.
Hugel was there with his Christmas camera and we talked extensively about the year in music;
Andrew of Makeout Creek and the former occupant of my apartment compared notes with me on the J-Ward life and I had some great music and blogging talk with Nicole, the Food Punk blogger from NYC.
One of the best parts of the party was seeing such a dressed up crowd at Ipanema, definitely not the usual RVA attire.
I was totally impressed by how wonderful some of the guys looked in their tuxes and cutaways.
It's not often you see the local men looking so fine. Well done, gentlemen.
When the clock struck midnight, DJ Cambot launched into "Thriller" and the dancing began as soon as the champagne was swallowed; 2010 got an enthusiastic welcome from us all.
By the time I left, you could still hear the occasional celebratory gunshot in the distance but the moon was pretty much obscured by the clouds.
But once in a blue moon, you get what you really want, so I started 2010 with high hopes for happiness.
Let the year unfold.
Since I haven't been in town for NYE since 2004, I was at a loss.
Fortunately for me, Kendra at Ipanema decided to close the restaurant and throw a Shanghai Surprise themed evening and I was invited to join the hijinks.
I spent the late afternoon helping to transform the restaurant into an Asian den of inequity, draping gauzy fabric around the booths to create intimate alcoves, hanging Chinese lanterns from the already precariously low ceiling and covering the walls in intricate paper cut-outs.
The front area was cleared for the dancing masses and everything was set.
When I arrived back around 9ish, guests were already gathering.
Cam from Denali was DJing and dim sum covered the back tables. It was to be a great party with plenty of good people to talk to.
Hugel was there with his Christmas camera and we talked extensively about the year in music;
Andrew of Makeout Creek and the former occupant of my apartment compared notes with me on the J-Ward life and I had some great music and blogging talk with Nicole, the Food Punk blogger from NYC.
One of the best parts of the party was seeing such a dressed up crowd at Ipanema, definitely not the usual RVA attire.
I was totally impressed by how wonderful some of the guys looked in their tuxes and cutaways.
It's not often you see the local men looking so fine. Well done, gentlemen.
When the clock struck midnight, DJ Cambot launched into "Thriller" and the dancing began as soon as the champagne was swallowed; 2010 got an enthusiastic welcome from us all.
By the time I left, you could still hear the occasional celebratory gunshot in the distance but the moon was pretty much obscured by the clouds.
But once in a blue moon, you get what you really want, so I started 2010 with high hopes for happiness.
Let the year unfold.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Breakfast of Champions ca. 1950
For my final breakfast of 2009, I stepped back in time and ate at the Westwood Fountain on Patterson Avenue just past Libbie.
This old school pharmacy counter could have been ripped from the pages of the 1950s, including some of the customers. There were plenty of vintage tables, but we ate at the counter to get the full view of the grill cooks doing their nonstop dance.
Like the clientele, the prices are retro, so my friend went all out with a Belgian waffle, two eggs, one fried, one scrambled, bacon, grits and hashed browns.
I was only a tad more circumspect with a bacon, egg and cheese omelet with baked apples and wheat toast.
After we ordered, we noticed the cooks making things like burgers and steak and cheese subs and realized we could have ordered lunch, even though it was 9:30 in the morning. Clearly, some people were beginning their day that way.
I can't rave that the food was out of this world, just that it was plentiful and satisfying. The newspapers, RTD and USA Today that is, were spread all over the counter for community reading and
Pinky, our waitress (was there ever a Pinky who wasn't a waitress?), was delightful. She's planning to get silly drunk tonight so we wished her the best with that.
We were in and out in about 45 minutes. You know why? Because that's how things have worked at lunch counters for years: cheap and fast and filling.
At least circa 1950.
This old school pharmacy counter could have been ripped from the pages of the 1950s, including some of the customers. There were plenty of vintage tables, but we ate at the counter to get the full view of the grill cooks doing their nonstop dance.
Like the clientele, the prices are retro, so my friend went all out with a Belgian waffle, two eggs, one fried, one scrambled, bacon, grits and hashed browns.
I was only a tad more circumspect with a bacon, egg and cheese omelet with baked apples and wheat toast.
After we ordered, we noticed the cooks making things like burgers and steak and cheese subs and realized we could have ordered lunch, even though it was 9:30 in the morning. Clearly, some people were beginning their day that way.
I can't rave that the food was out of this world, just that it was plentiful and satisfying. The newspapers, RTD and USA Today that is, were spread all over the counter for community reading and
Pinky, our waitress (was there ever a Pinky who wasn't a waitress?), was delightful. She's planning to get silly drunk tonight so we wished her the best with that.
We were in and out in about 45 minutes. You know why? Because that's how things have worked at lunch counters for years: cheap and fast and filling.
At least circa 1950.
My Favorite Music of 2009
I'm finally posting my Best Music of 2009 list, complete with justifications and occasional long-winded back stories. Five of the bands on my list I also saw live in 2009 (and three of them prior to that) and several others are on my wish list for seeing live in 2010. So here goes:
Fanfarlo: Reservoir because I think this album is flawless start to finish. There's not a weak song on it and it's an amazing debut for a band with the ability to play any and every instrument. I will always feel fortunate to have seen them with only 100 other devoted fans at the tiny Iota.
Passion Pit: Manners because no one reinvents 70s dance music so well. Also, for its back story; any band whose starting point is a guy writing a collection of songs for his girlfriend for Valentine's Day is a guy I want to listen to. A real shame that more people weren't at this show.
Neko Case: Middle Cyclone because she's Neko Case. Because she deigns to sing for us. Because she's had a hard time with her love life. Just because of that voice. I saw her twice this year, if that tells you anything.
The Decemberists: Hazards of Love because who else wrote a rock opera on this most intimate of subjects in 2009? Because even though seeing them in early 2007 was a far more transcendental experience than this year's show, they have a gift that no one else does.
Grizzly Bear: Vekatimest because of their unique acoustic sound and to-die-for vocal harmonies. Their combination of psychedelic, pop and folk is incredibly alluring to me, especially live, even if Norva crowds are obnoxious.
Yo La Tengo: Popular Songs because a band that can remain this creative after 25 years together is doing a whole lot right. Yes, you could call them shoegaze or noise pop and definitely experimental, but they never cease to impress me. And their live show in C-ville last year with its listening room environment is forever etched in my head.
Muse: Uprising because they make an amazing amount of sound for just three skinny Brits. Their symphonic (bombastic even) sound is unlike anything else I regularly listen to. I saw them back in 2007 at W & M and lamented that they were only the opening band.
Animal Collective: Merriweather Post Pavilion because someone needs to move the neo-psychedelic banner forward and these guys are just the ones to do it. Listening to this album is an exercise in pure sound and endless texture, no drug enhancement needed.
Great Lake Swimmers: Lost Channels because I love this whole folk resurgence going on now. GLS make pretty music and I mean that in the most complimentary way. Their incredible harmonies are the stuff of lost love and hope.
The XX: The Xx because of its spare sound, haunting male and female vocalists and because it's night time music. Listening to this album is like having an audio dream. I'd like to take it out of my CD player and give it a rest, but I can't bring myself to do it.
My only entry in the Best EP category is Bon Iver's Blood Bank and I include it for sentimental reasons. When I first discovered Bon Iver last year, it was the full-length "For Emma, Forever Ago" which took on a whole new meaning for me after the personal trauma of my life early this year.
Musician Justin Vernon created that album as a way of dealing with the breakup of his band, his relationship and being sick with mononucleosis.
Since I had been laid off, dumped and hospitalized for pneumonia, I could seriously relate to his pain.
He created heartfelt music in order to stay sane and I'm still trying to figure out what I can create to do the same. Blood Bank is his most beautiful song to date, hence the EP's inclusion here.
I know my list would not match another human being's on the planet and I'm okay with that. I took a lot of pleasure from these albums in 2009 and, god knows, I needed it.
Music and love are the essentials of life and since one was absent from mine, the other took on an even greater importance.
So thank you to these musicians for giving me part of what I needed in 2009.
Fanfarlo: Reservoir because I think this album is flawless start to finish. There's not a weak song on it and it's an amazing debut for a band with the ability to play any and every instrument. I will always feel fortunate to have seen them with only 100 other devoted fans at the tiny Iota.
Passion Pit: Manners because no one reinvents 70s dance music so well. Also, for its back story; any band whose starting point is a guy writing a collection of songs for his girlfriend for Valentine's Day is a guy I want to listen to. A real shame that more people weren't at this show.
Neko Case: Middle Cyclone because she's Neko Case. Because she deigns to sing for us. Because she's had a hard time with her love life. Just because of that voice. I saw her twice this year, if that tells you anything.
The Decemberists: Hazards of Love because who else wrote a rock opera on this most intimate of subjects in 2009? Because even though seeing them in early 2007 was a far more transcendental experience than this year's show, they have a gift that no one else does.
Grizzly Bear: Vekatimest because of their unique acoustic sound and to-die-for vocal harmonies. Their combination of psychedelic, pop and folk is incredibly alluring to me, especially live, even if Norva crowds are obnoxious.
Yo La Tengo: Popular Songs because a band that can remain this creative after 25 years together is doing a whole lot right. Yes, you could call them shoegaze or noise pop and definitely experimental, but they never cease to impress me. And their live show in C-ville last year with its listening room environment is forever etched in my head.
Muse: Uprising because they make an amazing amount of sound for just three skinny Brits. Their symphonic (bombastic even) sound is unlike anything else I regularly listen to. I saw them back in 2007 at W & M and lamented that they were only the opening band.
Animal Collective: Merriweather Post Pavilion because someone needs to move the neo-psychedelic banner forward and these guys are just the ones to do it. Listening to this album is an exercise in pure sound and endless texture, no drug enhancement needed.
Great Lake Swimmers: Lost Channels because I love this whole folk resurgence going on now. GLS make pretty music and I mean that in the most complimentary way. Their incredible harmonies are the stuff of lost love and hope.
The XX: The Xx because of its spare sound, haunting male and female vocalists and because it's night time music. Listening to this album is like having an audio dream. I'd like to take it out of my CD player and give it a rest, but I can't bring myself to do it.
My only entry in the Best EP category is Bon Iver's Blood Bank and I include it for sentimental reasons. When I first discovered Bon Iver last year, it was the full-length "For Emma, Forever Ago" which took on a whole new meaning for me after the personal trauma of my life early this year.
Musician Justin Vernon created that album as a way of dealing with the breakup of his band, his relationship and being sick with mononucleosis.
Since I had been laid off, dumped and hospitalized for pneumonia, I could seriously relate to his pain.
He created heartfelt music in order to stay sane and I'm still trying to figure out what I can create to do the same. Blood Bank is his most beautiful song to date, hence the EP's inclusion here.
I know my list would not match another human being's on the planet and I'm okay with that. I took a lot of pleasure from these albums in 2009 and, god knows, I needed it.
Music and love are the essentials of life and since one was absent from mine, the other took on an even greater importance.
So thank you to these musicians for giving me part of what I needed in 2009.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Escaping the Cold at Cafe Gutenburg
Cruising 17th Street, I spotted a prime parking space opening up right in front of Lulu's.
Two guys were standing out front watching me park and one of them was coatless in tonight's 30 degree weather, so I couldn't help but tease him about it.
His response was, "I have an invisible skin shield. You know, you can't park there if you're not coming in here."
I explained that I was meeting a friend at Cafe Gutenburg and what did he care where I went?
Seems he was the bartender at Lulu's; first he complimented my pink scarf and then insisted that I stop by after dinner.
You know, personal invitations are always an effective way to lure customers.
Wednesdays are Wine Down Wednesdays at Cafe Gutenburg, with select glasses half off.
Thus it was that I ordered the 2007 L'enclos des Bories Minervois, a syrah/grenache blend, tasting of currants and black pepper (and surprisingly tannic) and a mere four bucks.
Perhaps the wine deals accounted for the steadily increasing crowd we experienced tonight.
My friend arrived with the gift of a calendar showcasing twelve of the best photographs from his 2009 travels.
He's a hobby photographer with a great eye and he'd chosen some beautiful pictures which I will happily admire for the rest of the year.
He then regaled me with stories of his recent trip to Florida to visit his brother and his wife, people who actually enjoy canned peas and instant mashed potatoes.
Few people can describe food failures with quite the verve my friend can.
After our waitress' third stop by the table for our order, we accommodated.
He got the Local Mushroom Burger and I had the Smoked Salmon Blini with petit herbed salad, capers and creme fraiche with a side of buttered baby vegetables.
It's not every day you even see blini on a menu and these were were plentiful and delicious smeared with their plate mates.
The veggies were comprised of baby carrots and green beans doused in enough butter to prevent me from feeling virtuous about eating them.
But, of course, I wasn't going for virtuous.
Dessert was an overly large serving of Gelati Celesti chocolate ice cream which I did make a point of sharing with my friend.
As I pointed out to him, though, there's nothing like going to the Bottom for West End ice cream and besides, what kind of idiot orders ice cream when it's this cold outside?
Some questions have no answers.
Two guys were standing out front watching me park and one of them was coatless in tonight's 30 degree weather, so I couldn't help but tease him about it.
His response was, "I have an invisible skin shield. You know, you can't park there if you're not coming in here."
I explained that I was meeting a friend at Cafe Gutenburg and what did he care where I went?
Seems he was the bartender at Lulu's; first he complimented my pink scarf and then insisted that I stop by after dinner.
You know, personal invitations are always an effective way to lure customers.
Wednesdays are Wine Down Wednesdays at Cafe Gutenburg, with select glasses half off.
Thus it was that I ordered the 2007 L'enclos des Bories Minervois, a syrah/grenache blend, tasting of currants and black pepper (and surprisingly tannic) and a mere four bucks.
Perhaps the wine deals accounted for the steadily increasing crowd we experienced tonight.
My friend arrived with the gift of a calendar showcasing twelve of the best photographs from his 2009 travels.
He's a hobby photographer with a great eye and he'd chosen some beautiful pictures which I will happily admire for the rest of the year.
He then regaled me with stories of his recent trip to Florida to visit his brother and his wife, people who actually enjoy canned peas and instant mashed potatoes.
Few people can describe food failures with quite the verve my friend can.
After our waitress' third stop by the table for our order, we accommodated.
He got the Local Mushroom Burger and I had the Smoked Salmon Blini with petit herbed salad, capers and creme fraiche with a side of buttered baby vegetables.
It's not every day you even see blini on a menu and these were were plentiful and delicious smeared with their plate mates.
The veggies were comprised of baby carrots and green beans doused in enough butter to prevent me from feeling virtuous about eating them.
But, of course, I wasn't going for virtuous.
Dessert was an overly large serving of Gelati Celesti chocolate ice cream which I did make a point of sharing with my friend.
As I pointed out to him, though, there's nothing like going to the Bottom for West End ice cream and besides, what kind of idiot orders ice cream when it's this cold outside?
Some questions have no answers.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Of Romance (not mine) and a Roaring Fire
How is it that I can be friends with someone for over ten years and yet never have gone to the movies with her?
We corrected that tonight by going to the Westhampton to see "The Young Victoria," touted as one of those historical costume dramas that women favor and men avoid, but really more of a heart-wrenching love story suited to romantic types of either sex.
My friend said her main squeeze wouldn't have wanted to see it and I certainly don't have such a person to even ask, so we got our buttered popcorn and Milk Duds and settled in for high romance.
From what I know of Queen Victoria, the film stuck pretty close to the truth, as it should have considering what a wonderful story her romantic life was in her youth.
As the longest-reigning British monarch, Victoria became queen at age 18 and shortly thereafter married the love of her life. Even after he died prematurely at 42, she insisted that his clothes continue to be laid out for him every day.
She also wore black for the rest of her life, but then, I once had a boyfriend who accused me of the same thing.
Hey, don't they say that black is slimming or flattering or some such thing?
Afterwards, we headed across the street to Cafe Caturra for the warmth of fireplace and wine.
After tasting several, we settled on a bottle of the Milbrandt Cabernet from Washington's Columbia Valley.
We were fortunate enough to snag two leather wingback chairs by the roaring fire and settled in to compare notes on Christmas, come-to-Jesus talks with a guy and how to occupy a day off (a subject on which I'm an expert at his point).
Naturally, there was plenty of discussion on the topic of romance or the lack thereof (sadly in this case, I was once again the resident expert).
The movie brought up an interesting point: is there truly such a thing as the love of one's life?
And if there is, does it become easier to overlook other differences in the relationship for the sake of being with a person with whom one feels that connection?
That's a rhetorical question, by the way.
Do I seem lucky enough to have the answer to that?
We corrected that tonight by going to the Westhampton to see "The Young Victoria," touted as one of those historical costume dramas that women favor and men avoid, but really more of a heart-wrenching love story suited to romantic types of either sex.
My friend said her main squeeze wouldn't have wanted to see it and I certainly don't have such a person to even ask, so we got our buttered popcorn and Milk Duds and settled in for high romance.
From what I know of Queen Victoria, the film stuck pretty close to the truth, as it should have considering what a wonderful story her romantic life was in her youth.
As the longest-reigning British monarch, Victoria became queen at age 18 and shortly thereafter married the love of her life. Even after he died prematurely at 42, she insisted that his clothes continue to be laid out for him every day.
She also wore black for the rest of her life, but then, I once had a boyfriend who accused me of the same thing.
Hey, don't they say that black is slimming or flattering or some such thing?
Afterwards, we headed across the street to Cafe Caturra for the warmth of fireplace and wine.
After tasting several, we settled on a bottle of the Milbrandt Cabernet from Washington's Columbia Valley.
We were fortunate enough to snag two leather wingback chairs by the roaring fire and settled in to compare notes on Christmas, come-to-Jesus talks with a guy and how to occupy a day off (a subject on which I'm an expert at his point).
Naturally, there was plenty of discussion on the topic of romance or the lack thereof (sadly in this case, I was once again the resident expert).
The movie brought up an interesting point: is there truly such a thing as the love of one's life?
And if there is, does it become easier to overlook other differences in the relationship for the sake of being with a person with whom one feels that connection?
That's a rhetorical question, by the way.
Do I seem lucky enough to have the answer to that?
Joining the Third Wave at Garnett's
A woman needs a goal, no?
Still on my quest to taste every sandwich at Garnett's, I lunched there today but purposely waited until after what I thought to be the lunch rush, arriving somewhere in the vicinity of 1:30. When I entered, there was exactly one seat available in the entire place.
Call me egocentric, but that seat would have been for me, I presumed.
I usually try to get to Garnett's by noon to avoid the rush, but that plan would have accomplished nothing since I was told that the place started filling up at 10:30 and every seat was taken by 11:15. That was round one. By the time I arrived, they were on round three.
Of course, Garnett's got a glowing review from Style last week, so that may have alerted some newbies to their affordable, unique and very tasty menu and homey vibe.
Today's sandwich try-out was the Scuffletown Chicken Salad on ciabatta with a side of French potato salad. This chicken salad was a lot like my mother's with big, irregular chunks of white meat chicken lightly dressed with mayo and a hint of sweetness from pickle.
It's probably the best chicken salad I've had in Richmond so far and I have no doubt that Mom would give it the thumbs up.
Sitting on my right at the bar was a man who lives on his mother's family's farm in Tappahannock, which immediately interested me because my folks live on the other side of the bridge in Tappahannock. So he not only knew of their small town and its oystering/crabbing history, but he could guess where they moved from (the D.C. area) and how thoroughly they enjoy the change of locale (greatly).
Let me tell you how unusual that is. I could meet 100 people and it would be unlikely that even one would know of the tiny town of Morattico, so it was a kick to discuss the area with him. Yet another example of just how small the world is.
Today's visit was notable because it was the very first time I've not had one of the fabulous and frugal desserts at Garnett's. I admit I was sorely tempted by the chocolate hazelnut cake, but I just didn't have room, a rarity for me. Next time I will for sure, assuming it's available.
Even if I have to linger for round four. Whatever wave it takes.
Still on my quest to taste every sandwich at Garnett's, I lunched there today but purposely waited until after what I thought to be the lunch rush, arriving somewhere in the vicinity of 1:30. When I entered, there was exactly one seat available in the entire place.
Call me egocentric, but that seat would have been for me, I presumed.
I usually try to get to Garnett's by noon to avoid the rush, but that plan would have accomplished nothing since I was told that the place started filling up at 10:30 and every seat was taken by 11:15. That was round one. By the time I arrived, they were on round three.
Of course, Garnett's got a glowing review from Style last week, so that may have alerted some newbies to their affordable, unique and very tasty menu and homey vibe.
Today's sandwich try-out was the Scuffletown Chicken Salad on ciabatta with a side of French potato salad. This chicken salad was a lot like my mother's with big, irregular chunks of white meat chicken lightly dressed with mayo and a hint of sweetness from pickle.
It's probably the best chicken salad I've had in Richmond so far and I have no doubt that Mom would give it the thumbs up.
Sitting on my right at the bar was a man who lives on his mother's family's farm in Tappahannock, which immediately interested me because my folks live on the other side of the bridge in Tappahannock. So he not only knew of their small town and its oystering/crabbing history, but he could guess where they moved from (the D.C. area) and how thoroughly they enjoy the change of locale (greatly).
Let me tell you how unusual that is. I could meet 100 people and it would be unlikely that even one would know of the tiny town of Morattico, so it was a kick to discuss the area with him. Yet another example of just how small the world is.
Today's visit was notable because it was the very first time I've not had one of the fabulous and frugal desserts at Garnett's. I admit I was sorely tempted by the chocolate hazelnut cake, but I just didn't have room, a rarity for me. Next time I will for sure, assuming it's available.
Even if I have to linger for round four. Whatever wave it takes.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Living the Great Life at Gallery 5
On the Monday night after Christmas weekend, live music was just the thing to do to for something completely different from the past few days.
And approaching Gallery 5 tonight, hearing the windows rattling from the band playing within, I looked forward to a most un-holiday like evening.
The music was much more enjoyable to hear from within than from without, but still loud, so I was surprised to see a guy sitting in a chair, head against the radiator cover and napping hard when I got there.
He woke up once, checked his phone and went back to sleep.
Black Wine from New Jersey was playing to a rapt crowd when I walked in.
Their punk influences ensured that most songs clocked in at around two and a half minutes of pure energy, which made their choice of a song to cover completely out of the blue: "Windy" by the Association.
They did quite a decent job with it, though, speeding it up a bit and hardening it a little around the edges while keeping the harmonies (the female drummer helped a lot in this respect).
The headliner and reason for my outing tonight was Lemuria from Buffalo, about whom I'd heard good things.
Their website is lemuriapop.com, if that tells you anything.
With an indie power pop sound augmented with dual vocalists of both sexes and catchy guitars, they played an energetic set that was a pleasure to hear.
The band cites the Lemonheads and Superchunk as influences, so fans of 90s indie pop (okay, me) were bound to get into them.
Their choice of a cover song was "Grand Canyon" by the Magnetic Fields and their version really good.
I ran into a local restaurant owner in between sets, giving me a conversational partner for the rest of the evening.
After buying me wine, he proposed a toast to me having "the greatest life."
I protested that I have far less money than most people, but he insisted that I have far more fun that most and that's what's really more important.
He also wanted to know how I always know where to be for the most fun on any given evening and if I could text him with that information.
Of course, what I consider fun isn't necessarily anyone else's cup of tea, but the texting part aside (as if), it was a fine compliment anyway.
The show was over by 11, allowing attendees to get home to a reasonable bedtime on a school night, a benefit that has no relevance to my "great" life.
I write that with tongue planted firmly in check, just so you know.
And approaching Gallery 5 tonight, hearing the windows rattling from the band playing within, I looked forward to a most un-holiday like evening.
The music was much more enjoyable to hear from within than from without, but still loud, so I was surprised to see a guy sitting in a chair, head against the radiator cover and napping hard when I got there.
He woke up once, checked his phone and went back to sleep.
Black Wine from New Jersey was playing to a rapt crowd when I walked in.
Their punk influences ensured that most songs clocked in at around two and a half minutes of pure energy, which made their choice of a song to cover completely out of the blue: "Windy" by the Association.
They did quite a decent job with it, though, speeding it up a bit and hardening it a little around the edges while keeping the harmonies (the female drummer helped a lot in this respect).
The headliner and reason for my outing tonight was Lemuria from Buffalo, about whom I'd heard good things.
Their website is lemuriapop.com, if that tells you anything.
With an indie power pop sound augmented with dual vocalists of both sexes and catchy guitars, they played an energetic set that was a pleasure to hear.
The band cites the Lemonheads and Superchunk as influences, so fans of 90s indie pop (okay, me) were bound to get into them.
Their choice of a cover song was "Grand Canyon" by the Magnetic Fields and their version really good.
I ran into a local restaurant owner in between sets, giving me a conversational partner for the rest of the evening.
After buying me wine, he proposed a toast to me having "the greatest life."
I protested that I have far less money than most people, but he insisted that I have far more fun that most and that's what's really more important.
He also wanted to know how I always know where to be for the most fun on any given evening and if I could text him with that information.
Of course, what I consider fun isn't necessarily anyone else's cup of tea, but the texting part aside (as if), it was a fine compliment anyway.
The show was over by 11, allowing attendees to get home to a reasonable bedtime on a school night, a benefit that has no relevance to my "great" life.
I write that with tongue planted firmly in check, just so you know.
Restaurants Not the Usual Suspects
Sunday's Washington Post Travel section had not one, but two articles about eating in RVA.
While I'm always happy to see word of our fair city in the larger press, I'm beginning to wonder about the sources for their destinations.
The first, "In Richmond, fine dining is in the details" was written by Post food critic Tom Sietsema, a man whose writing I read often and always enjoy, and chronicled his eating journey through our little town. Go ahead, I bet you can guess at least three, if not four, of the places where he chowed down.
Duh. Millie's, Can Can, Acacia and Mezzanine (because of its relative newness and Style's Restaurant of the Year award apparently) made the cut.
His only other stop was Buzz and Ned's Real Barbecue where he was underwhelmed. He also found Millie's lacking, despite having had a good lunch there several years ago. The others he enjoyed.
The second article, "For food shops, it's a capital city" was mainly about Belmont Butchery, but also gave a nod to 821, Comfort, Sally Belle's, Kuba Kuba, Yellow Umbrella Seafood and the brand new Spoonfed (formerly Stonewall Market).
The writer raved about Belmont Butchery with good reason, although Tanya Cauthen is quoted as saying that when she needs additonal counter help, she calls on local chefs from Balliceaux and Pomegranate. I question how a place as new as Balliceaux got lumped in with the defunct Pomegranate.
My question is this: can a piece about eating in RVA be written without mention of Can Can, Acacia, Millie's, Comfort, or Kuba Kuba? And, let's be real here, even 821 and Sally Belle's are semi-regulars when the topic is our restaurant scene. I'm not saying these aren't good places to eat, but who doesn't know that by now?
Clearly even the out-of-towners are aware of these places, so why can't we see an article about eating through Richmond mention some of the less obvious eateries we have to offer?
Yellow Umbrella was an unexpected surprise to see given a nod, as was the barely opened Spoonfed, but it was an article about markets after all. But a truly good story about what's worth checking out during a visit to RVA should inform the reader about the places not mentioned over and over in the travel press.
Or, at the very least, whomever is supplying the suggestions to these out-of-town writers should give them the scoop on the places the locals know are our best -kept secrets.
If anyone should need a good source in the future, I'm happy to provide a list of less obvious places worth a bite or sip, as, I'm sure, would any regular diner in Richmond.
Or are we trying to keep these places to ourselves?
While I'm always happy to see word of our fair city in the larger press, I'm beginning to wonder about the sources for their destinations.
The first, "In Richmond, fine dining is in the details" was written by Post food critic Tom Sietsema, a man whose writing I read often and always enjoy, and chronicled his eating journey through our little town. Go ahead, I bet you can guess at least three, if not four, of the places where he chowed down.
Duh. Millie's, Can Can, Acacia and Mezzanine (because of its relative newness and Style's Restaurant of the Year award apparently) made the cut.
His only other stop was Buzz and Ned's Real Barbecue where he was underwhelmed. He also found Millie's lacking, despite having had a good lunch there several years ago. The others he enjoyed.
The second article, "For food shops, it's a capital city" was mainly about Belmont Butchery, but also gave a nod to 821, Comfort, Sally Belle's, Kuba Kuba, Yellow Umbrella Seafood and the brand new Spoonfed (formerly Stonewall Market).
The writer raved about Belmont Butchery with good reason, although Tanya Cauthen is quoted as saying that when she needs additonal counter help, she calls on local chefs from Balliceaux and Pomegranate. I question how a place as new as Balliceaux got lumped in with the defunct Pomegranate.
My question is this: can a piece about eating in RVA be written without mention of Can Can, Acacia, Millie's, Comfort, or Kuba Kuba? And, let's be real here, even 821 and Sally Belle's are semi-regulars when the topic is our restaurant scene. I'm not saying these aren't good places to eat, but who doesn't know that by now?
Clearly even the out-of-towners are aware of these places, so why can't we see an article about eating through Richmond mention some of the less obvious eateries we have to offer?
Yellow Umbrella was an unexpected surprise to see given a nod, as was the barely opened Spoonfed, but it was an article about markets after all. But a truly good story about what's worth checking out during a visit to RVA should inform the reader about the places not mentioned over and over in the travel press.
Or, at the very least, whomever is supplying the suggestions to these out-of-town writers should give them the scoop on the places the locals know are our best -kept secrets.
If anyone should need a good source in the future, I'm happy to provide a list of less obvious places worth a bite or sip, as, I'm sure, would any regular diner in Richmond.
Or are we trying to keep these places to ourselves?
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Eating on the Cheap at TJ's
One of my favorite friends suggested grabbing a bite at TJ's tonight and, really, what could be a better way to spend the last night of the long Christmas weekend than with a fellow food and wine lover I hadn't seen in a couple of weeks?
We got an early start, arriving at the Jefferson around 6 ready to talk and eat.
Neither of us had anticipated the large number of people lounging around the lobby and eating and drinking at Lemaire and TJ's tonight.
We began upstairs at Lemaire, sharing a quartino of Dolcetto d'Alba DOC Ada Nada from Piedmont while noshing on a tray of excellent olives and peanuts.
Heading downstairs, we discovered that TJ's had not a single open table in its dining room, but we were happy to eat in the bar area just off the rotunda.
We settled into a two-top and eagerly opened our menus.
The menu was a revelation; everything listed under appetizers and salads was priced at either $6 or $7, making TJ's one of the most affordable places to eat well that I know of.
I began with the seasonal soup, a cannellini bean with ham and Parmesan pureed into a thick and creamy consistency; it was a large bowl and extremely filling.
I followed that with Cornbread and Surry Sausage-Stuffed Quail with Granny Smith apples, Swiss chard and Herbed Gnocchi in Balsamic Jus.
If you think this sounds like a full meal for $13, you'd be correct.
The stuffing and quail were perfectly delicious and an ample serving to boot.
My friend had the Frisee and Granny Smith apple salad with Duck Confit after the Garlic-Roasted Burgundy Escargots over Parmesan Risotto, mushrooms, shallots and parsley.
The risotto was perfectly cooked and seasoned (and somebody else did all that stirring).
She upped the ante with a soul-satisfying side of the Swiss Chard with poached Bing Cherries.
Her meal topped out at a whopping $17 and she found it to be more than enough.
We continued to share quartinos, first a Pinot Noir, followed by a Temperanillo.
We're both big fans of the quartino, allowing as it does a generous enough pour to share.
We like to enjoy a variety of wines during a meal and the quartino allows moving from grape to grape economically throughout a meal.
What could be better?
Service was friendly and attentive and we were not rushed as we meandered through course after course and lingered over wine afterwards.
TJ's was clearly the destination of choice for a whole lot of people tonight and it was clear by the end of our meal why.
An inexpensive meal in a grand setting is an appealing way to finish a holiday weekend, whether it has been a joyous or bittersweet one.
I'm hoping next year's will be more the former than the latter.
We got an early start, arriving at the Jefferson around 6 ready to talk and eat.
Neither of us had anticipated the large number of people lounging around the lobby and eating and drinking at Lemaire and TJ's tonight.
We began upstairs at Lemaire, sharing a quartino of Dolcetto d'Alba DOC Ada Nada from Piedmont while noshing on a tray of excellent olives and peanuts.
Heading downstairs, we discovered that TJ's had not a single open table in its dining room, but we were happy to eat in the bar area just off the rotunda.
We settled into a two-top and eagerly opened our menus.
The menu was a revelation; everything listed under appetizers and salads was priced at either $6 or $7, making TJ's one of the most affordable places to eat well that I know of.
I began with the seasonal soup, a cannellini bean with ham and Parmesan pureed into a thick and creamy consistency; it was a large bowl and extremely filling.
I followed that with Cornbread and Surry Sausage-Stuffed Quail with Granny Smith apples, Swiss chard and Herbed Gnocchi in Balsamic Jus.
If you think this sounds like a full meal for $13, you'd be correct.
The stuffing and quail were perfectly delicious and an ample serving to boot.
My friend had the Frisee and Granny Smith apple salad with Duck Confit after the Garlic-Roasted Burgundy Escargots over Parmesan Risotto, mushrooms, shallots and parsley.
The risotto was perfectly cooked and seasoned (and somebody else did all that stirring).
She upped the ante with a soul-satisfying side of the Swiss Chard with poached Bing Cherries.
Her meal topped out at a whopping $17 and she found it to be more than enough.
We continued to share quartinos, first a Pinot Noir, followed by a Temperanillo.
We're both big fans of the quartino, allowing as it does a generous enough pour to share.
We like to enjoy a variety of wines during a meal and the quartino allows moving from grape to grape economically throughout a meal.
What could be better?
Service was friendly and attentive and we were not rushed as we meandered through course after course and lingered over wine afterwards.
TJ's was clearly the destination of choice for a whole lot of people tonight and it was clear by the end of our meal why.
An inexpensive meal in a grand setting is an appealing way to finish a holiday weekend, whether it has been a joyous or bittersweet one.
I'm hoping next year's will be more the former than the latter.
I Whined Leading to More Wine at The Belvidere
I went out tonight for selfish reasons and ended up doing a favor for wine drinkers who frequent the Belvidere at Broad. My neighborhood joint was mostly full when I arrived a bit after 8, but I conveniently found myself seated next to a man with extensive wine knowledge (he works as a server at a certain Shockoe Slip eatery) and we immediately slipped into a wine chat while considering the list. When the owner asked if I wanted my usual, I politely balked.
The B @ B is already known for its extensive rotating beer list, but they have had the same by-the-glass list since opening. I just wasn't in the mood for the same old thing tonight and the owner was kind enough to suggest I pick a wine off the bottle list and she'd pour it by the glass for me. Thus, the serendipity of being seated next to a guy who knew his wine inside and out and was delighted to peruse the list with me until we mutually decided that the Michele Chiarlo "Le Orme" Barbera D'Asti was what I wanted opened.
The wine was wonderful, velvety and elegant. Not long afterwards, a local (defined as living within a five-block radius of the place) came in and was greeted with, "HI, Larry! I have something new for you to try!" Which would have been fine, except that Larry was a beer drinker. I have never been greeted with that enthusiastic statement, despite multiple visits, which led to a discussion amongst the owners about the need for adding more, or at the very least, rotating wines to their by-the-glass list.
I teased the owner about her ability to offer new beers to regular customers constantly and she responded empathetically, saying, "You're right! For you, it's always, Hey there! Want more of the same old thing?"
After much discussion and further tasting, The Belvidere's wine list now includes two more selections by the glass: Jean-Luc Colombo Les Abeilles Cote du Rhone Rouge, an organic wine, and my new favorite, the Colores de Sol Malbec. Fear not, creatures of habit, the Pinot Noir, Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon are still on the list, but they now have company and we regular wine drinkers are all the happier for it.
I had no business whining about the wine list but my mouth spoke before my brain could stop it. I'd feel more guilty about it except that I think I did a favor for wine sops in rva tonight. Feel free to thank me if you see me at the bar.
The B @ B is already known for its extensive rotating beer list, but they have had the same by-the-glass list since opening. I just wasn't in the mood for the same old thing tonight and the owner was kind enough to suggest I pick a wine off the bottle list and she'd pour it by the glass for me. Thus, the serendipity of being seated next to a guy who knew his wine inside and out and was delighted to peruse the list with me until we mutually decided that the Michele Chiarlo "Le Orme" Barbera D'Asti was what I wanted opened.
The wine was wonderful, velvety and elegant. Not long afterwards, a local (defined as living within a five-block radius of the place) came in and was greeted with, "HI, Larry! I have something new for you to try!" Which would have been fine, except that Larry was a beer drinker. I have never been greeted with that enthusiastic statement, despite multiple visits, which led to a discussion amongst the owners about the need for adding more, or at the very least, rotating wines to their by-the-glass list.
I teased the owner about her ability to offer new beers to regular customers constantly and she responded empathetically, saying, "You're right! For you, it's always, Hey there! Want more of the same old thing?"
After much discussion and further tasting, The Belvidere's wine list now includes two more selections by the glass: Jean-Luc Colombo Les Abeilles Cote du Rhone Rouge, an organic wine, and my new favorite, the Colores de Sol Malbec. Fear not, creatures of habit, the Pinot Noir, Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon are still on the list, but they now have company and we regular wine drinkers are all the happier for it.
I had no business whining about the wine list but my mouth spoke before my brain could stop it. I'd feel more guilty about it except that I think I did a favor for wine sops in rva tonight. Feel free to thank me if you see me at the bar.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
It's (Not) A Wonderful Life
I didn't get what I really wanted for Christmas, despite a whole lot of hoping and wishing (I'm not the praying sort). I didn't expect to, but it would have salvaged the year if I had. Perhaps I should have written a letter to Santa and spelled it out.
Dashed hopes aside, I've been going to the Byrd for "It's a Wonderful Life" on Christmas Eve for over a decade now. I think it's a great way to spend that evening and at this point, I practically know the dialogue by heart. But this year, it got to me like it never had before and tears fell pretty much throughout the entire movie; it was not the best way to experience it. And, on top of that, I realized going in to the theater that I'd lost my wallet. Sigh.
Christmas Day I drove to the Northern Neck to see the 'rents without a driver's license (obviously) and in the pouring rain. It's usually not a bad drive, but the weather and my mood were not cooperating. One of my presents was a gift certificate to Victoria's Secret, but given the state of my love life, it seemed frivolous and unnecessary. I thanked them sincerely anyway.
Shopping at VS today, I was surprised to see so many couples in the store choosing lingerie together. I suppose if you're going to wear pretty underthings , you may as well get your partner's input on what they like, right? One of the couples even had their kids with them as she held up thongs and demi-bras for his approval. It was kind of unsettling or maybe I was just resentful that no one will be seeing my new pretties. I know, I know, my attitude sucks.
The best thing about this Christmas is that it means 2009 is almost over and, as the worst year I've ever had to live through, that can't come soon enough. And for those without X-ray vision glasses, I'll be wearing some of the loveliest lingerie I may have ever owned in 2010. If only my attitude could be half as lovely in the new year.
Dashed hopes aside, I've been going to the Byrd for "It's a Wonderful Life" on Christmas Eve for over a decade now. I think it's a great way to spend that evening and at this point, I practically know the dialogue by heart. But this year, it got to me like it never had before and tears fell pretty much throughout the entire movie; it was not the best way to experience it. And, on top of that, I realized going in to the theater that I'd lost my wallet. Sigh.
Christmas Day I drove to the Northern Neck to see the 'rents without a driver's license (obviously) and in the pouring rain. It's usually not a bad drive, but the weather and my mood were not cooperating. One of my presents was a gift certificate to Victoria's Secret, but given the state of my love life, it seemed frivolous and unnecessary. I thanked them sincerely anyway.
Shopping at VS today, I was surprised to see so many couples in the store choosing lingerie together. I suppose if you're going to wear pretty underthings , you may as well get your partner's input on what they like, right? One of the couples even had their kids with them as she held up thongs and demi-bras for his approval. It was kind of unsettling or maybe I was just resentful that no one will be seeing my new pretties. I know, I know, my attitude sucks.
The best thing about this Christmas is that it means 2009 is almost over and, as the worst year I've ever had to live through, that can't come soon enough. And for those without X-ray vision glasses, I'll be wearing some of the loveliest lingerie I may have ever owned in 2010. If only my attitude could be half as lovely in the new year.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Christmas Eve Morning Observations
It's not often I get to do my Christmas Eve (or Christmas day) walk in the snow. In fact, I can't remember a time I ever have, although I've only been walking for ten years. The streets were fairly quiet, as I anticipated, but several things gave me pause.
The line at Sallie Belle's on Grace Street was a dozen deep by 9:30 and they don't even open until 10. They close at 3, and I'm almost tempted to wander by in the 2:00 hour just to see the crazed last-minute customers. I have to assume that their traditional baked goods must be essential to some people's holiday festivities.
Although the south-facing streets are in decent condition to walk, the north-facing ones are still quite covered in snow. I saw a large cactus plant, maybe two feet high sticking out of a snow mound. All I could see were the tips of the cactus leaves and needles with a crust of snow. Did Mother Nature intend for this to happen? I also got a smile out of a "Keep Off the Grass" sign nearly covered in snow. If there's grass underneath, it was nowhere in sight.
Unfortunately I had to go to Kroger, where pandemonium reigned. A stranger said to me, "I can't believe we were stupid enough to leave this for today!" I'm with you on that, honey; what was I thinking? The aisles were a traffic jam of people, many of them clearly not pros at grocery shopping and impeding the progress of the rest of us. Lots of customers wore Santa hats and everyone was unusually friendly and pleasant, though, so while it was challenging to get in and out, there was a certain festive air to it all.
I already know what a difficult holiday this is going to be, given the hole in my life, so I'm not expecting a great one. I'm just hoping not to dissolve into a complete maudlin mess while making my way through the rest of it.
The line at Sallie Belle's on Grace Street was a dozen deep by 9:30 and they don't even open until 10. They close at 3, and I'm almost tempted to wander by in the 2:00 hour just to see the crazed last-minute customers. I have to assume that their traditional baked goods must be essential to some people's holiday festivities.
Although the south-facing streets are in decent condition to walk, the north-facing ones are still quite covered in snow. I saw a large cactus plant, maybe two feet high sticking out of a snow mound. All I could see were the tips of the cactus leaves and needles with a crust of snow. Did Mother Nature intend for this to happen? I also got a smile out of a "Keep Off the Grass" sign nearly covered in snow. If there's grass underneath, it was nowhere in sight.
Unfortunately I had to go to Kroger, where pandemonium reigned. A stranger said to me, "I can't believe we were stupid enough to leave this for today!" I'm with you on that, honey; what was I thinking? The aisles were a traffic jam of people, many of them clearly not pros at grocery shopping and impeding the progress of the rest of us. Lots of customers wore Santa hats and everyone was unusually friendly and pleasant, though, so while it was challenging to get in and out, there was a certain festive air to it all.
I already know what a difficult holiday this is going to be, given the hole in my life, so I'm not expecting a great one. I'm just hoping not to dissolve into a complete maudlin mess while making my way through the rest of it.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
His Big Fat Birthday Dinner at Zeus
The problem with having a birthday just before Christmas is how easily it can get lost in the holiday shuffle.
My Capricorn friend avoided any chance of that by throwing himself a birthday dinner tonight at Zeus and inviting fourteen of his favorite people to eat, drink and be merry to celebrate another year above ground.
Four hours and $1000 later, he had succeeded magnificently.
We began with field greens with candied nuts, goat cheese and apples, followed by fried oysters with a spicy remoulade.
Platters of both arrived unbidden and were devoured. I then had the crab cakes, but the tenderloin meat loaf with bacon mashed potatoes was also a big hit with several at my table. The shrimp and grits with Tasso ham got raves.
Everything I tasted was birthday-worthy and the endless bottles of Zeus Rouge certainly enhanced the mood.
Among the random things I learned from various party-goers tonight included the fact that there are always a lot of two-dollar bills at racetracks.
There's such a thing as too many pickles if you have to schlep them home from Florida yourself.
I've been missing the outstanding Tuesday specials at Gertrude's in Baltimore by only having been for Sunday brunch.
Not everyone can eat large quantities of candied, sugared nuts (I can).
As you can see, the evening had both educational and entertainment components if you were paying attention (I was).
Since it was a birthday celebration, nearly everyone got dessert (caramel bread pudding, apple crisp with ice cream, key lime pie and molten chocolate cake).
The birthday boy ordered only a spoon and spent the dessert course rotating seats for tasting purposes.
The waitress brought out a lit birthday candle so we could sing to him, but the candle was in her hand, not in any type of cake or dessert item (pictures were taken to document this and then retaken when the first ones were dark).
As our numbers dwindled, two other couples in the restaurant attached themselves to our group for conversational purposes, undoubtedly tired of having put up with us carrying on for hours.
One couple had long-time local roots, so they and Birthday Boy could reminisce about things that happened here long before I arrived in RVA. Kelly's Burgers? Um, okay.
The other couple was celebrating her birthday, too (and were also treated to the candle-in-hand presentation) in what looked like a most romantic way.
One of our party asked how long they'd been a couple and they said they'd been together for eleven years before marrying four years ago.
When asked how that was going, she prosaically said, "Now it's all about the kids." He looked at her and refuted it entirely. "I'm still completely fascinated by her."
What I wouldn't give...
My Capricorn friend avoided any chance of that by throwing himself a birthday dinner tonight at Zeus and inviting fourteen of his favorite people to eat, drink and be merry to celebrate another year above ground.
Four hours and $1000 later, he had succeeded magnificently.
We began with field greens with candied nuts, goat cheese and apples, followed by fried oysters with a spicy remoulade.
Platters of both arrived unbidden and were devoured. I then had the crab cakes, but the tenderloin meat loaf with bacon mashed potatoes was also a big hit with several at my table. The shrimp and grits with Tasso ham got raves.
Everything I tasted was birthday-worthy and the endless bottles of Zeus Rouge certainly enhanced the mood.
Among the random things I learned from various party-goers tonight included the fact that there are always a lot of two-dollar bills at racetracks.
There's such a thing as too many pickles if you have to schlep them home from Florida yourself.
I've been missing the outstanding Tuesday specials at Gertrude's in Baltimore by only having been for Sunday brunch.
Not everyone can eat large quantities of candied, sugared nuts (I can).
As you can see, the evening had both educational and entertainment components if you were paying attention (I was).
Since it was a birthday celebration, nearly everyone got dessert (caramel bread pudding, apple crisp with ice cream, key lime pie and molten chocolate cake).
The birthday boy ordered only a spoon and spent the dessert course rotating seats for tasting purposes.
The waitress brought out a lit birthday candle so we could sing to him, but the candle was in her hand, not in any type of cake or dessert item (pictures were taken to document this and then retaken when the first ones were dark).
As our numbers dwindled, two other couples in the restaurant attached themselves to our group for conversational purposes, undoubtedly tired of having put up with us carrying on for hours.
One couple had long-time local roots, so they and Birthday Boy could reminisce about things that happened here long before I arrived in RVA. Kelly's Burgers? Um, okay.
The other couple was celebrating her birthday, too (and were also treated to the candle-in-hand presentation) in what looked like a most romantic way.
One of our party asked how long they'd been a couple and they said they'd been together for eleven years before marrying four years ago.
When asked how that was going, she prosaically said, "Now it's all about the kids." He looked at her and refuted it entirely. "I'm still completely fascinated by her."
What I wouldn't give...
I'll Judge Yours If You Judge Mine
It's that time of year when music geeks are furiously trying to decide what to put on their Best of 2009 lists.
Shoot, I've been compiling a list since early summer, adding to it occasionally and crossing others off when something even more impressive comes along.
We music geeks take our lists seriously (and it didn't hurt that I had nothing better to do).
Yesterday I got a tentative list from my music geek friend Andrew and it's a whopping 25 CD scroll!
I understand why; it is difficult to winnow down a year's worth of good music to just ten or even a dozen CDs.
Also, he included local bands on his list and I purposely did not, preferring to make that a completely separate list for my own purposes.
I found it fascinating to read his list because as much as we discuss music, which is every single time we see each other and via e-mail, I was still surprised at some of what was on his list.
He was the one who gave me Great Northern's "Remind Me Where the Light Is" and never really mentioned it much again.
When we were driving home from the Raveonettes show in DC, I played that CD non-stop for the entire trip back and he didn't say a word.
Oh, wait, he might have been sleeping.
And speaking of the Raveonettes, "In and Out of Control" will most definitely be on my list but I didn't expect to see it on his.
This CD has far less of a recorded-in-a-cave sound, which pleases him because he's less of a cave-lover than I am, but I had no idea it was Top 25 list material for him.
Maybe I'm making a cave convert out of him (next up: The Twilight Sad?).
And Guggenheim Grotto?
I got this CD a solid year ago and rushed off to Charlottesville to see them by myself last winter without any idea that he was a fan.
It was an intimate and amazing show, but why the hell did I go alone, I'm wondering?
Next time I'll ask.
I started pushing Passion Pit's "Manners" on all my friends hard late last spring, even more so once their show at the National was announced for June.
Their very 70s-based dance music for non-dance music lovers is one of my favorites and still in regular rotation, but I hadn't realized how highly it rated with Andrew.
And Neko Case, of course.
I saw her twice this year (only once with Andrew), and the cover art of "Middle Cyclone" is probably the best CD cover of the past five years, IMHO.
Every time I listen to her sing, I want to cry or have an in-depth conversation with her about men.
That voice, that attitude!
I see that after much internal deliberation, Andrew included The Decemberist's "Hazards of Love" and I know this caused him much soul-searching because he hated putting something on his list that was on every other critic's best of list.
Sometimes, my friend, there's a reason why everyone acknowledges a CD.
No surprise that Plushguns' "Pins and Panzers" was one of Andrew's favorites.
When we discovered them in 2008, we were both terribly impressed with what a guy in his Brooklyn bedroom could make for sound.
But that show at Alley Katz, complete with glow sticks, sealed the deal.
We're undoubtedly among the few putting this CD on our end-of-year lists, but only because not enough people have experienced it.
Their loss.
I could go through the rest of my friend's list, but perhaps I'd better finish up my own instead.
He probably wants to judge mine as much as he wanted me to peruse his.
And then, like two lawyers battling a case, we'll have the epic Best of 2009 List discussion.
It could go on for days.
Shoot, I've been compiling a list since early summer, adding to it occasionally and crossing others off when something even more impressive comes along.
We music geeks take our lists seriously (and it didn't hurt that I had nothing better to do).
Yesterday I got a tentative list from my music geek friend Andrew and it's a whopping 25 CD scroll!
I understand why; it is difficult to winnow down a year's worth of good music to just ten or even a dozen CDs.
Also, he included local bands on his list and I purposely did not, preferring to make that a completely separate list for my own purposes.
I found it fascinating to read his list because as much as we discuss music, which is every single time we see each other and via e-mail, I was still surprised at some of what was on his list.
He was the one who gave me Great Northern's "Remind Me Where the Light Is" and never really mentioned it much again.
When we were driving home from the Raveonettes show in DC, I played that CD non-stop for the entire trip back and he didn't say a word.
Oh, wait, he might have been sleeping.
And speaking of the Raveonettes, "In and Out of Control" will most definitely be on my list but I didn't expect to see it on his.
This CD has far less of a recorded-in-a-cave sound, which pleases him because he's less of a cave-lover than I am, but I had no idea it was Top 25 list material for him.
Maybe I'm making a cave convert out of him (next up: The Twilight Sad?).
And Guggenheim Grotto?
I got this CD a solid year ago and rushed off to Charlottesville to see them by myself last winter without any idea that he was a fan.
It was an intimate and amazing show, but why the hell did I go alone, I'm wondering?
Next time I'll ask.
I started pushing Passion Pit's "Manners" on all my friends hard late last spring, even more so once their show at the National was announced for June.
Their very 70s-based dance music for non-dance music lovers is one of my favorites and still in regular rotation, but I hadn't realized how highly it rated with Andrew.
And Neko Case, of course.
I saw her twice this year (only once with Andrew), and the cover art of "Middle Cyclone" is probably the best CD cover of the past five years, IMHO.
Every time I listen to her sing, I want to cry or have an in-depth conversation with her about men.
That voice, that attitude!
I see that after much internal deliberation, Andrew included The Decemberist's "Hazards of Love" and I know this caused him much soul-searching because he hated putting something on his list that was on every other critic's best of list.
Sometimes, my friend, there's a reason why everyone acknowledges a CD.
No surprise that Plushguns' "Pins and Panzers" was one of Andrew's favorites.
When we discovered them in 2008, we were both terribly impressed with what a guy in his Brooklyn bedroom could make for sound.
But that show at Alley Katz, complete with glow sticks, sealed the deal.
We're undoubtedly among the few putting this CD on our end-of-year lists, but only because not enough people have experienced it.
Their loss.
I could go through the rest of my friend's list, but perhaps I'd better finish up my own instead.
He probably wants to judge mine as much as he wanted me to peruse his.
And then, like two lawyers battling a case, we'll have the epic Best of 2009 List discussion.
It could go on for days.
Food Coma Commentary
Thank goodness we're almost to the 25th because I went to my third Christmas party in a week tonight and I can't keep this up forever. Actually, I don't mind the dressing up part in the least. And I enjoy meeting new people and having unexpected conversations. And as for the gratuitous drinking, well, there are bigger crosses to bear. And staying up late on a school night, well that really has no relevance whatsoever to my life. But the eating! These holiday soirees can put you in a food coma if you're not paying attention.
Tonight's festivities included a white bean, onion and herb spread, assorted cheese and crackers, meatballs, a Jarlsburg/Gruyere cheese fondue, crudites and dip, pork tenderloin in a shallot butter sauce with a cooked apple sauce, sauteed squash/zucchini medley and an obscenely rich mac and cheese. For dessert, there were radar bars, lemon chess squares and chocolate fondue with mini bananas and croissant chunks for dipping. I think I had 2 1/2 plates of food, but the Food Police may have noted more. All I know is no amount of wine could compete with so much of a food base.
The general conversation somehow took a turn to the subject of things I personally don't do. Specifically mentioned were the facts that I don't wear jewelry. And that I don't wear jeans. And I don't have a cell phone. As inevitably happens when that last topic comes up, someone immediately said to me, "Congratulations!" and actually sounded sincere. Within minutes, though, a friend said, "I'm buying you a cell phone for Christmas." Do you know how many times someone has said that to me? So I was simultaneously applauded and pitied for my lack of 24/7 communication availability; no one seems to understand what a deliberate choice it is for me.
One woman, whom I had met just a few months ago, asked if there was an update on my job or love status. No, I said, everything was pretty much the same. I may have made a self-deprecating remark or two about the state of my affairs and she started to get visibly upset. "That makes me want to cry," she said.
Which made me laugh out loud because what earthly good would it do to stay upset about the turmoil that has defined 2009 for me? Sure, I'd change it all if I could, but none of it seems to be in my hands. Okay, I wouldn't change the no jeans, jewelry and cell phone parts.
And the self-deprecation is just part of the package, I'm afraid. But the rest could certainly use an overhaul.
Tonight's festivities included a white bean, onion and herb spread, assorted cheese and crackers, meatballs, a Jarlsburg/Gruyere cheese fondue, crudites and dip, pork tenderloin in a shallot butter sauce with a cooked apple sauce, sauteed squash/zucchini medley and an obscenely rich mac and cheese. For dessert, there were radar bars, lemon chess squares and chocolate fondue with mini bananas and croissant chunks for dipping. I think I had 2 1/2 plates of food, but the Food Police may have noted more. All I know is no amount of wine could compete with so much of a food base.
The general conversation somehow took a turn to the subject of things I personally don't do. Specifically mentioned were the facts that I don't wear jewelry. And that I don't wear jeans. And I don't have a cell phone. As inevitably happens when that last topic comes up, someone immediately said to me, "Congratulations!" and actually sounded sincere. Within minutes, though, a friend said, "I'm buying you a cell phone for Christmas." Do you know how many times someone has said that to me? So I was simultaneously applauded and pitied for my lack of 24/7 communication availability; no one seems to understand what a deliberate choice it is for me.
One woman, whom I had met just a few months ago, asked if there was an update on my job or love status. No, I said, everything was pretty much the same. I may have made a self-deprecating remark or two about the state of my affairs and she started to get visibly upset. "That makes me want to cry," she said.
Which made me laugh out loud because what earthly good would it do to stay upset about the turmoil that has defined 2009 for me? Sure, I'd change it all if I could, but none of it seems to be in my hands. Okay, I wouldn't change the no jeans, jewelry and cell phone parts.
And the self-deprecation is just part of the package, I'm afraid. But the rest could certainly use an overhaul.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Festive and Nonchalant at Lemaire
What with it nearly the big day, my friend suggested we meet for a festive drink and I can think of no place in rva more holiday-adorned than the Jefferson. We met in the Rotunda to ogle the big tree, the folk art Santa figures, the elaborate wreaths and the sheer quantity of poinsettias around the base of every single palm tree. It's easy to imagine how this sparkling setting wows out-of-towners considering how bowled over a couple of long-time residents like us were.
Then it was a sweep up the grand staircase to the downscaled Lemaire. Our bartender, a Long Island boy who had to learn to use "sir" and "ma'am" when he moved south, greased the wheels for a fine evening. We began with quartinos of Old Vine Garnacha Las Rocas de Alejandro Catalayud 2006 and Malbec Lonko Patagonia 2005 and moved on to Tempura Green Asparagus with coarse sea salt and Parmesan and roasted garlic aioli and Brandy Peppercorn-Dusted Beef tartare with shaved Parmesan, micro arugula and horseradish sauce.
Dessert was Chocolate Grand Marnier terrine with vanilla bean ice cream and a dusting of cinnamon. Hard as it is for me to acknowledge this, the vanilla ice cream may have been even better than the chocolate terrine. I can't believe I just wrote that.
We saw lots of pretty people, including arts patron Pam Reynolds, looking chic as always, and several bored and entitled-looking young couples barely speaking to each other. Next to us was an older couple traveling from Maryland to Florida; the Jefferson was as far as they'd gotten in their travels today. They didn't seem to mind the early stop and overnight stay at the Jefferson in the least. Or perhaps it was always the goal
And lest you doubt that Lemaire is noticeably more casual than it used to be, on a visit to the Ladies' Room, I encountered a Jefferson employee folding towels in there. The employee was a man. But rather than make apologies or back out of the room, he merely indicated the larger of the two stalls to me, finished up his folding and discretely exited. Now that's the kind of nonchalance you would have never seen at the old Lemaire.
Then it was a sweep up the grand staircase to the downscaled Lemaire. Our bartender, a Long Island boy who had to learn to use "sir" and "ma'am" when he moved south, greased the wheels for a fine evening. We began with quartinos of Old Vine Garnacha Las Rocas de Alejandro Catalayud 2006 and Malbec Lonko Patagonia 2005 and moved on to Tempura Green Asparagus with coarse sea salt and Parmesan and roasted garlic aioli and Brandy Peppercorn-Dusted Beef tartare with shaved Parmesan, micro arugula and horseradish sauce.
Dessert was Chocolate Grand Marnier terrine with vanilla bean ice cream and a dusting of cinnamon. Hard as it is for me to acknowledge this, the vanilla ice cream may have been even better than the chocolate terrine. I can't believe I just wrote that.
We saw lots of pretty people, including arts patron Pam Reynolds, looking chic as always, and several bored and entitled-looking young couples barely speaking to each other. Next to us was an older couple traveling from Maryland to Florida; the Jefferson was as far as they'd gotten in their travels today. They didn't seem to mind the early stop and overnight stay at the Jefferson in the least. Or perhaps it was always the goal
And lest you doubt that Lemaire is noticeably more casual than it used to be, on a visit to the Ladies' Room, I encountered a Jefferson employee folding towels in there. The employee was a man. But rather than make apologies or back out of the room, he merely indicated the larger of the two stalls to me, finished up his folding and discretely exited. Now that's the kind of nonchalance you would have never seen at the old Lemaire.
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