Flashback At The National - The B-52's

Let me start by saying how happy I am that we finally have a decent venue for music in Richmond. Ever since the poorly run Flood Zone (where every Richmond teenager got their first alcoholic drink) closed and turned into STD ground zero the music scene has played second fiddle to C'ville or required major road trips north or to the coast. The speed and efficiency of restoration and transformation of The National by a private group makes you wonder what Mayor Wilder and the city are up to on their little 'arts' project just down the street that's just a tad behind schedule and a bit over budget....

I can honestly say that I was a bit ambivalent about seeing the B-52's. I do love the band but I have seen them 3 times. My favourite was at the end of their Cosmic Thing tour, in Atlanta, on Halloween night.... I wished we had blogging back then as the evening has become a bit blurry due to, but not limited to, age and time. The clincher on my decision came when I found out that the day of the concert would be Kate Pierson's 60th birthday. How many tours do you think they have left? Online I went for tickets.

Ouch. When did concerts get so expensive? OK, adjusted for inflation, it is probably the same as it was when I was young but was I really ready to shell out $37 a ticket? And, just for the record, what kind of scam is Ticketmaster running? I thought scalping was illegal... What they do is highway robbery. Of course I am older and wiser than my younger self when I had to scrape together a little cash to see ABBA or Foreigner. I've got a ton of squirreled away Amex points. We got the tickets for free.

The opening act was Eagle Seagull. A fun little indie act featuring a girl on electric violin (it was blue!) and a guitarist trying to channel Angus Young sans schoolboy outfit. Yes, Dick, they had a good beat and you could dance to it. The bespectacled lead singer was good but left you with the impression that he took himself far too seriously. The kind of person who, in conversation, would tell you over and over again what a serious artist he is. Regardless, they were fun and set the mood.

Random Observations of Eagle Seagull -
~If your a lead singer wearing glasses do not start 'head-banging' to the music. Your glasses will fly off into the crowd...
~If you only have one tamborine to share and it needs to be lobbed to whoever needs it next - PRACTICE!

After an hour Eagle Seagull wrapped up and they started setting up for the B-52's. Maybe I'm getting old but having to wait nearly another hour in between acts was a tad excessive, and, this being a Sunday night most of us had to work. Speaking of which, M and I took a little time to survey the crowd. We had discussed bringing Finn but had opted not to. There were a few kids but not as young as Finn. The rest of the crowd seemed to be late 30's/early 40's. We saw some pretty amazing comb-overs and swirlies. If you were in your 20's and looking for a cougar, this was the place to be. M observed that the Tobacco Company must be pretty quiet and that every babysitter in the city must be working this evening. I made a quick run for the bathroom before the show started and there looked at a list of upcoming acts. Wow, the band Live and the Gin Blossoms preforming together. Ick, it's at Innsbrook. Not going to happen.

I returned and the band took to the stage. Keith hasn't aged nor has Fred, except for his hair colour. Cindy was wearing a wig and insisted on standing in front a fan (hot flashes?) that kept blowing chunks of the hair away. Kate looked great but the many birthday wishes were rebuffed - she either was not too thrilled with the landmark she had crossed or was too professional to allow something personal to interfere with the show.

Musically they were great. You forget that many of the sounds you hear in their songs, especially when Fred is doing spoken-word (he doesn't really sing), are actually from Kate and Cindy and not a synthesizer. It amazes me that Kate, at her age, can sing and dance as she always has without getting winded. Funny how today's stars, Brittany and her ilk, need to lip sync as they are unable to do two things at once. For an hour and a half they ran through their songs, mostly old but with a few from their new album. They even ad-libbed a bit when one line (I can't remember the song) was sung 'that it went on forever' and Fred spoke 'like this war'. Too soon it was over. Can't really fault them, they're older and so was the audience. The crowd roared and they came back for an encore. Planet Clair got the audience hopping, followed by a new song, and then, to finish, Rock Lobster. Some of the braver audience members even laid down on the floor (quite a bit of beer had been spilled) as Fred extolled 'Down, down, down!!!!'.

The lights came up and it was over. The band lingered on the stage as the audience cheered then exited. We made our way to the door. Had they been able to take credit cards we would have got a t-shirt on the way out as we had drank most of our cash. We showed our age and got a coffee mug. Off to home.

Oh, and if I was 10 years younger I would've gone to the National the night before to see Lou Reed....

The Long & Winding Road To Brunch - Zorba's

This Sunday started with a plan, but, like the Iraq War, we had no exit strategy. We have an upcoming event and I noted a rather gaping hole in my wardrobe. Apart from a rather funereal suit, nothing dressy. My remaining sports coat would require much weight loss and, to be honest, was bought in the late 80's. Time to retire. So off to Nordstrom for some live piano and the waste-land known as Short Pump.

In a feat of sprint shopping I selected the needed sports coat, two nice pair of cotton pants (as opposed to the overpriced wool and silk pants the salesman tried to steer me towards), and two brightly coloured shirts. An Elmo, Oscar, and Paul Frank shirts for Finn and we were off and straight into our dilemma. We were hungry but it was nearly 2, the closing point for many eateries, we were in Short Pump (chain purgatory), and we had no idea what we were in the mood for.

So, ignoring the current price of oil, we went on a petrol burning tour of Short Pump driving slowly (can you even drive fast in the gridlock that is Short Pump?) from strip mall to strip mall. I could feel my individuality draining away as I surveyed chains well known and obscure. The few independents, and a number of the chains, had either closed or 'For Sale' signs in the windows, victims of a poor economy, over-building, and stratospheric rents. The food choices were many but none were appealing. The only thing that caught our eye was Umi, a Japanese place, but as we already had plans for sushi on Wednesday we ruled that out. We continued our search down Broad.

Frankly, at that point it got ugly. Finn saw a Starbucks and started crying to go to the coffeeshop (he loves their chocolate milk) a little too shrilly. M, who had woken up with a bad headache, wasn't too happy either. Both of us threw out suggestions only to have the other shoot them down. Finally, I just got in a turn lane. M, looking around the strip mall, asked - 'Have you ever been to Zorba's?'. 'Yep, and that's where we're going' - I replied.

Once seated, I noted the surroundings. A little sad, actually, probably very fancy when built, it now looked tired and the Christmas lights around the bar were either tacky or a testament to laziness. Perhaps I have become too used the decor being a statement about the food or the philosophy. Some great looking places have served crap food. Unless unclean, the decor has nothing to do with the quality of the food served to you. Let's move on.

Bread and drinks came. My gin and tonic was rather small. I had forgotten, in this day of super-sized drinks, that cocktails used to be so small. It was good, though, and I was thirsty. The bread was average. Most likely par-cooked frozen from a supplier and then baked off in house. This reinforces the theme of a restaurant stuck in a time warp. In the 70's and 80's everyone served bread like this.

The salads really made me question my choice of restaurant. M had the greek salad and it looked fine and she liked it. Not too fancy but generous with feta. I had the house. I seriously doubt the dressing was made in-house and my second bite found the lettuce fully cooked from the piping hot plate fresh from the dishwasher.

I think a fellow foodie put an idea in both mine and RVAFoodies head (he satisfied his craving at Bacchus last night) as I had a hankering for calamari. The appetizer plate arrived with a generous portion of fried squid. I really couldn't tell if they were fresh or frozen. They weren't rubbery but the parts with tentacle were a little squishy. No lemon was on the plate but they must have had some squeezed on them in the kitchen because you could taste and smell it. My first bites were without sauce and my verdict was... not too bad. Served with the fried squid parts was a large dollop of tzatziki sauce. If this tzatziki was store bought I want to know where so I can get it. Creamy with a hint of yogurt tang it was a perfect partner with the calamari. Things were looking up.

For an entree M had the moussaka. This layered dish, a large portion in a large bowl, with tomato sauce, ground meat, firm eggplant and creamy bechemel was excellent, especially on a gray, damp Sunday. M left very little. This would be the kind of moussaka your grandmother (if she were Greek) would make. Today's foodies probably would like a little more spices. For Greek home comfort food, which this is, it was satisfying.

I had the gyro platter. Triangles of pita, grilled pressed chopped meat, spiced chopped tomato and onion (fresh!), and their wonderful tzatziki. OK, anyone can slice pita bread so we'll skip that. Let's take a close look a the gyro meat. Firm, flavourful, no gristle or strangely chewy spots, no strange aftertaste that sometimes occurs. In a word, good. Gyro meat is done poorly by so many cheap places you can forget how good it can be when done right.

Zorba's is a place is desperate need of a makeover, both in decor and in bringing the menu into this century. Should they do it? Probably not. To use a phrase I hate - 'it is what it is'. If they updated the place they would probably lose their core customer base, a steady flow of which came through their doors while we were there. Would I drive out of my way there? Probably not. If I were in the area and hungry, though, I would stop in, especially since they do continuous service and it is very hard to find a decent, non-chain place in the middle of the day.

Little Boys Get Shiny New Red Trikes, Big Boys Get Shiny New Red Grills - Cooking Infrared

I've had my eye on the new infrared grills for a while now. The thought of cooking at over 700 degrees was intriguing. The problem, the price. One company held the patent and was milking it for every dime. Over the past year the patent quietly expired and the free market went to work. While still not cheap these wonders of technology have become much more affordable, so last week I decided to become an early adopter.

Note - I'm not a scientist, I've tried to research so any flaws are due to misinterpretation on my part or just plain bad assumptions.

Infrared grills a bit different than your normal grill. Instead of cooking with direct heat the gas jets are encased and heat up porcelain tiles (think space shuttle tiles). These tiles start heating up and at the higher temperatures actually glow red. What ends up cooking your grilling items ends up being closer to light, infrared light and radiant heat. This is the same type of cooking that is used in high-end steak houses where the grills can get up to1500 degrees.

I selected the Char-Broil Red, 3-Zone, grill and made my purchase (already assembled) at Home Depot. The price was still high enough for me to get a grill cover to get a few more years of use and for a chain and lock so it makes it to next weekend. A $19.99 truck rental got the new toy home. Make sure you inspect your assembled grill before you leave. Turns out mine is missing the side burner, not something I use too often, but hey, I paid for it so I'll be swinging by there today to speak with them about it.

For our first attempt at taking excellent cuts of meat and turning them into charcoal we selected two items: flat-iron steaks, and various sausages. Flat Iron's, from Belmont Butchery, are a cut similar to flank steak but I think they are much more tender and flavourful. They are great cooked rare to medium rare with a bit of char. M's birthday was coming up so she got to choose and she wanted them in my special marinade. So the steaks took a bath for a few days in:

Sea Salt
Fresh Ground Black Pepper
Worsteshire Sauce
Soy Sauce
Balsamic Vinegar
Minced Garlic
Crushed Ginger
EV Olive Oil

That's my basic marinade, don't ask me proportions, it's a touchy feely thing but go light on the soy sauce or it overpowers everything else. The ginger is great for meats, especially if they are tough, as the enzymes in the ginger break down the meat making it more tender. It's also very important to take your meats out of the fridge and allow to get to room temperature. You will find this allows your meats to cook evenly and avoid the burnt on the outside and fridge raw on the inside disaster.

Once we had the grill set up on the side porch we fired her up. The handy thermometer on the lid told the tale, this puppy was getting rocket hot, fast. As it approached 700 degrees I prepared the first of the three flat irons. Normally, for R/MR I cook these inch-thick steaks for 4 minutes per side. Today I did 2 minutes per side. The result was a bit of a char with the steak completely seared. After a 5 minute rest I sliced the steak against the grain with a slight bias. A touch past MR but the juiciness of a rare cook. Success declared.

While I was cutting the flat iron I had placed a dozen sausages (6 brats, 3 sweet Italian, 3 hot Italian) on the upper rack of the grill. When I had nearly finished slicing the steak the people on the side porch were requesting my presence with a bit of urgency. My arrival was greeted by flames shooting out of the sides of my new toy. I turned off the gas and requested the hose I had prepped in case of such an emergency. Slowly the flames died down and I surveyed the remains of the sausages. I decided not to waste the food. Into the kitchen for an inspection under brighter lights. Not too bad, but were they cooked all the way through? They had spent less than 6 minutes on the grill.... I sharpened one of my larger knives and attacked. Cutting at an extreme angle to minimize the meat to charcoal ratio we found they were indeed fully cooked. A few brave souls, and myself, tasted and.... not too bad. While the skin was blackened it didn't have the burnt flavour one would expect and the sausages were perfect on the inside and extremely juicy. Within a half hour all the sausage was gone. Success grasped from the jaws of a Fire Marshall lecture...

This summer will bring additional posts as we try out this new grill and the successes and failures we may have. One of my questions is what is the propane consumption and will I decide to use the converter option and hook it up to our natural gas line. If it's stolen will my insurance cover it? We will also invite a few guests chefs over to showcase their particular cooking styles. RVAFoodie and vegetarian grilling? What could Veron bake on a grill? If Brandon cooks on my grill can I bill Style Weekly for part of the cost?....

Why My Neighbours Hate Me - Part 1 - The Great Feral Feline Hunt

Across the street from our house is an Illegal rooming house. All the homes in our neighbourhood are zoned single family. This house, without the required rooming house license, rents rooms out to an ever changing array of unsavory characters. I understand all people need a place to live but the revolving door of drug dealers, users, prostitutes, and general troublemakers in an ill-maintained house that frequently doesn't have water due to the landlords indifference really drives up my blood pressure. The many things they do to annoy me are met with retaliation on my part, most often by ensuring they are always on the 4th Precinct's radar screen.

For years there has been a feral cat population in our neighbourhood. Not too many, just enough to keep the mouse population under control. I would supplement their diet with a bit of leftover dumped off my back porch. Never enough to keep them fed, just a treat. Two years ago one of the new 'guests' across the street started feeding the cats in earnest. Full bowls of cat food and a constant supply of fresh water. The result was an explosion of kittens and kitty immigration from other 'hoods. The house across the street provided the food and our well landscaped yard provided the bushes and shade for raucous kitty sex and the birthing of the results.

It was an annoyance and subject of discussion but hadn't risen to the point of action, yet. Then we started noticing the deformed kittens. One old gray tom-cat dominated the colony and over time had started reproducing with his own offspring. This ear-less, nasty old cat regularly mauled other cats and killed many kittens. I had the feline version of the Westboro Baptist Church living in my yard. My call to action came after having to pull Finn away from a dying, twitching kitten on our front steps that he wanted to pet.

The question was what. I wasn't about to put out poison and calling Animal Control would have a similar result. Except for the nasty tom I didn't mind the cats too much, even when they nearly killed my tulips by peeing on them. After some research and a few tips I found Operation Cat Nip. These people ran a non-profit catch and release program. Basically, I catch the cats take them to a clinic where they get spayed or neutered, shots and any other basic medical needs are also taken care of. The problem was that they had a waiting list. Bother. Well, sign me up.

Only a month passed and I got the phone call. Four slots had opened up if I was interested. So we trucked on over and got 4 cages - yes, we have many, many cats. Once home I baited them with kippered herring in oil and placed one cage after another in the spot where we normally toss out leftovers. It must be a regular kitty pit stop because I quickly had all four cages full. Three were annoyed but resigned to their situation. The fourth was hissing, spitting, and spraying. Very unhappy cat. Covered the cats and stashed in the basement.

The next morning we went to pack them up for their little excursion. Once again, three were fine, one, not so much. At this point tufts of fur were all over the cage and he looked like he had rubbed his face raw trying to get out. Not pretty. To add insult to injury for this cat when we arrived at the clinic someone tried to get the water off the canopy of the tent we were standing under and completely soaked him. He had a small bit of revenge as he did spary inside M's Jeep and the smell seems to be lingering. Cats checked in, we went on with our day.

A phone call that afternoon informed me that the mean tom was in pretty bad shape. I was initially concerned that it was from the cage and how he had rubbed himself raw but it turned out he had been attacked recently. The wounds were infected and abcessed. Even if he hadn't got anything from the bites he was looking at a long involved recovery that he may or may not survive. The decision was made to euthanize.

The three surviving cats (2 females, 1 male) are spending this rainy Monday in our basement. Last night they all had nice tuna dinners and this morning fresh water and dry cat food. Tonight they will be released into our back yard and the people across the street will be wondering why some of 'their' cats are half-shaved. I understand they blame a multitude of things on the 'white people in the brick house' but this time they will be right.

Finn & Jasper Do Brunch - Bacchus

This last Sunday morning was gray and rainy. It had been a busy weekend and while we were up early to run a time specific errand we were exhausted and were considering a very quiet day at home. The problem was that we couldn't even be bothered to make a decent breakfast and knew Finn would soon start agitating for something to munch on. I was wrapped up in a comforter multi-tasking - watching TV and randomly surfing the web - when my laptop informed me I had a new piece of mail. Seems the Foodies had gotten a late start to the day and were lamenting that it was probably too late to get together for brunch. Not so, I replied, we're moving in slow motion as well. Foodies suggested Bacchus after they went to a craft show. We replied, cool. This conversation actually took place over short emails and took nearly 2 hours, the rain had turned us all to slugs.

So, pushing the edge of Bacchus' closing time we arrive around 2. At first I felt bad for the staff but they seated two tables after us so we weren't going to be the lone table holding up the staff. We arrived a bit before the Foodies and ordered some coffee. Coffee and water arrived. M sent hers back as, once again, the lipstick on the rim did not match hers. This has been happening a lot lately. Someone really needs to invent a lipstick that sticks to the lady and not everything else and servers really need to look before they bring you a glass.

The Foodies arrived with little Jasper in tow. We greeted and settled in for some food.

Foodie and I tried to be on our best behavior under the watchful eyes of our wives but it was not to be. We must be reading each others blogs as Foodie noted the lack of butter arriving with the bread and commented on the service being slow, normally areas where I am most vocal. I took up his mantra of affordable noting a clam entree for $10 but add pasta and it goes up to $16. A while later our food arrived....

M had a Mushroom Fritatta. It was large and a bit heavy. Light on mushrooms and eggs but heavy with potatoes. Personally, I didn't think the description matched the dish. M said it was good but would have liked more mushrooms. I tasted it, not too bad, but more fungus would have made it much better. If you wander into Bacchus hungover this may be the dish for you.

Mrs Foodie had the Shrimp Scampi. She was happy with the garlic levels and Mr Foodie said he never complained when she had garlic breath. Sounded like a winner to me.

I threw Foodie for a loop and ordered the Seared Scallops with Spinach & Bacon. He was thinking I would go for the Saffron Eggs, a dish that had caused some discussion a while back. My dish ended up being a mixed bag. The scallops, 6 or 7 medium sea scallops, were seared and seasoned perfectly, a very nice treat. The spinach could not have been sauteed any better. Just a hint a vinegar to flavour but not enough to pollute the scallops sitting on the spinach. The bacon made no sense. I assumed it would have been minced and in the spinach. Instead it was two slices laid over the dish. It looked and tasted a bit like the bacon you get at Denny's. Added nothing to the dish.

Since I went for the seafood Foodie went for the Saffron Eggs. I tasted them and they weren't bad. I am guessing the saffron wasn't blended with the eggs correctly as Mr Foodie gave Mrs Foodie a taste and asked if she could detect the saffron. The eggs were good, and Foodie liked the price ($5), but they fall under my category of 'items that you can make at home and shouldn't order out'. For those of you wanting to make this at home here's how as this would be a great dish if you have guests for brunch:

Eggs (get local fresh organic at Belmont Butchery)
Saffron
Kosher Salt
White Pepper
Half & Half
A few drops white wine vinegar

Beat it all together and let 'steep' in the fridge while you entertain you guests. This will allow the saffron to infuse a little better through the eggs. Cook until think they are congealed but not quite, remove from the heat and put in a warm serving bowl. The residual heat of the eggs will finish the cooking. If you scramble until fully cooked they will keep cooking after you remove them (that pesky residual heat) and they will release all the captured moisture into your serving bowl or on your plate leaving you with dry eggs and wet toast. I haven't listed actual portions as that is dependent on how many people you are feeding. Try it on yourself at home first and figure it out.

Both Foodies dish and mine contained potatoes. They were OK but Foodie needed to add hot sauce and I needed to add pepper but the mill on the table wasn't functional. Not very well seasoned. A couple of bites in and, well, if you were polite you would call the potato 'firm'. I called it undercooked. I asked Foodie if he had the same problem. He replied no and then a couple of bites later changed his answer. The consensus at the table was that, in future, order the polenta as a side instead.

Restaurants typically break even or even lose money on brunches or lunch. The dining window is too short and people don't order many of the high profit items like cocktails and wine. It is, however, a way to showcase their strengths by getting people to come in at lower price points and lure them back for the real show, dinner. Bacchus did well enough for me to consider them for another try at brunch but I'm not quite ready to make that dinner investment.

Jasper was a perfect gentleman through the meal. OK, he was asleep. As we wrapped up he made it known that he was ready for his brunch. Finn had hit his expiration as well and was dancing through the restaurant. As a note to that I can say that I have been happy with Richmond restauranteurs treatment of us with Finn with only a couple of exceptions. He is typically well-behaved, less so when we go out with friends, but they have made him feel welcome and indulged him. That's a good way to get parents back.

Disasters In Dining - Northside Grille

Today was our fourth, and quite possibly our last, trip to Northside Grille. We've never been for dinner, only for lunch/brunch. Previous visits have found the food to be decent, basic grub. Nothing fancy or adventurous. The kind of place where, if your home fried potatoes are little cold, you let it slide. Service was always a weak point but you adjust your expectations based on the restaurant and the Grille's service wasn't bad enough to complain about, until now.

We were wrapping up running errands and decided that a little lunch was in order. Our first choice was to swing by Kitchen 64 but the parking lot was full and you could see the line coming out the door so, as we've done on more than one occasion, we headed to our back-up, Northside Grille.

The restaurant was maybe half-full and we were seated immediately. The waitress, however, took a little longer. She was having a good time playing with a toddler and chatting with some friends at another table. When she did finally return to her job you got the distinct impression that she was annoyed at you for taking her away from her friends. I'm all for spending time your friends but if that's what your doing then clock out and give the table to someone else.

OK, moving on. First we ordered drinks. Lemonade for Finn and I. She returns with M's drink. Lemonade's not working. Not sure what the waitress meant by that but it sounds like it's not homemade. Fine, cranberry juice. Then we ordered.

To start I gave into my weakness, bisque, in this case, crab. It arrived with soup slopped over the sides and several croutons on top. Whoops, not croutons but vaguely seasoned stale bread cubes. I'm not sure if that was the intent but they weren't really necessary. The soup was a little spicy but not all that bad. Thickened with perhaps a bit too much roux leaving a trace of uncooked flour flavours it had a generous amount of crab that you could taste. The spice level was high enough that I finished my cranberry juice, as the waitress couldn't be bothered to bring water or ask if we needed refills so I started drinking Finn's.

Sandwiches arrived, and they were wrong, or at least M's was. She had asked for onion rings, fries came instead. Don't know if the kitchen made the error but I suspect it was the waitress in her rush back to her friends when ringing in the order. The plate went back and then returned with just the sandwich and a promise of rings to come. He apologized (not sure where the waitress was, not waiting tables obviously) and left. The waitress finally came by to check and asked if we needed anything. I commented on the rings, no apology from her but she asked if we needed anything else, I replied on the need for more liquids and she took off. When she returned she slammed the three glasses on the table, splashing the table, and asked if we needed any thing else. I wanted mayo for my fries. Moments later, walking by without a word nor slowing down, she slammed it onto the table.

I had now reached my breaking point.

She walked by, trying to avoid eye contact but glanced at me when I requested a manager. And.... nothing. Time passed and no one came by. I was losing my appetite. My French Dip was mediocre. The meat was good, no gristle or fatty parts, but the mushrooms tasted canned and the bread was truly substandard, reminded me of elementary cafeteria. When I picked up the second half of the sandwich I found that the jus had been sloshed onto the plate and the bottom of the sandwich was falling apart. Stick a fork in me, I was done.

I caught the eye of another employee and made another request for a manager. The waitress finally returned to tell there wasn't one. No apologies, no attempts to try to fix the situation, nothing. I asked for the phone number of the owner. She returned with a folded piece of paper, smacked it onto the table and, without a word, walked away.

More time passed, Finn was getting restless, no check, no clearing of the plates. We were no longer guests, we were treated as an annoyance that would only be dealt with if it was necessary. I asked someone else for the check and entertained Finn over in an little play area with crayons and picture books. The waitress took it to M who paid and left her 15% (very low for us but more than I would have left). The waitress did not apologize probably happy that we were leaving and she could stop feigning looking busy and get back to socializing.

As soon as I got home I called SC, the owner, she was very apologetic. She was a bit put off that I had been told there was no manager. The kitchen manager is in charge when there is no floor manager. I guess the staff didn't care to bother him/her. She took some more information and promised to get back to me. A while later DS, billing himself as a manager there, called. He listened but kept trying to move the conversation to a close and some sort of gift certificate to get us back. I persisted on telling the whole story, filling in gaps that P, the waitress, had either left out or glossed over. By the end of the conversation I think he finally grasped how rotten we had been treated. Sadly, he let slip that this waitress works more shifts than anybody and how hard it is to find people this time of year. Take that how you will.

They are sending us a certificate for a free lunch. I have no idea whether we will actually use it or re-gift it.

When Restaurants Give Birth - Part 4 - Sensi

I have to admit I never really ate at Franco's. I phrase it that way as my only visit was for a corporate Christmas luncheon and restaurants are rarely at their best when serving a banquet. It was good but I would be hard pressed to remember anything special about it. People have given high praise to Franco's and I'll take their word for it. A couple of years ago Franco's gave birth to Sensi, down on Tobacco Row in the Bottom, and, with M's birthday in a few days, that's where we found ourselves. M was actually a little hesistant to go. She likes to look at menus in advance but Sensi has no web presence. Odd in this day and age. The web can be a great, inexpensive, selling tool for a restaurant considering the fragmented advertising world. It also means I have no online menu to reference, so all ingredient errors are mine.

We arrived early in the evening (Finn being a toddler has made us early birds as he no longer falls asleep in a carrier) and started in the bar. The space is very minimalistic. Bare concrete with burgundy accents, link curtain separating the bar and dining area, and,thankfully, no TV. We ordered our usual martinis and I got my first hit of sticker shock. I really have gotten used to spending $10-$12 for a martini, especially when they are oversized. $14.50 for less than a supersized was a little excessive. Add to that M sending hers back as the lipstick on the glass didn't match hers... We were off to a bit of a rocky start.

Before we went to the table Finn and I ventured into the bathroom. Kinda scary. Big patch of peeling paint and crumbling drywall by the sink. Dirty with random puddles of liquid in bad places. What you would expect a nightclub restroom to look like towards the end of a busy Saturday, not in a fine dining establishment at the beginning of the evening. M later told me the ladies room was fine.

The shakiness continued once seated when I noted the large piece of dried green vegetable matter on my fork. The staff was very apologetic.

The wine list was a bit daunting. I know the different Italian wine varietals but not Italian vineyards well enough to make an informed decision on a top heavy wine list. I prefer to experiment at home. Dropping large bank on a shot in the dark is, as Finn would say, scary. We played it safe and went with the Penfold's Cabernet/Shiraz.

M chose the Grilled Portobello Crostini to begin. The mushrooms were grilled and seasoned perfectly but I really enjoyed the prosciutto wrapped mozzarella. It had been heated just enough to soften the cheese but not melt it. I was starting to feel better about our dining destination.

I wanted to try a number of different items and got my wish with their Seafood Quatro. As it was slow that evening, only three other tables, I requested the replacement of the oyster shooter with.... anything. Just not a real fan of oysters.

~RVA Foodie took me to task recently for not having any links on my blog. So this would be the point I would send you to read his great post on misguided gourmands run amok trying to pair oysters and ice cream...~

The waiter seemed to have no problem with my request and the chef added a little crab cake to my Quatro. I would highly recommend that as a starter, almost like a crab hush puppy but delicate enough to allow the crab to shine. Other items on the plate included chilled shrimp with a remoulade (the shrimp were firm and moist, not overcooked, the sauce just strong enough add flavour not cover the sweetness of the shrimp), seared tuna with soy reduction and wasabi (nice but I believe it was cooked in advance then chilled and sliced to order) and finally a rather tepid baked clam with breadcrumbs and bacon (more on this later...). Two hits, one grounder and a miss.

We also had a cup of the lobster bisque to share. Being a superfan of bisques I held out high hopes for this and I was not disappointed. The pink soup was drizzled with chive (?) infused olive oil and had a healthy amount of lobster meat in the soup. The meat had been added prior to serving as it wasn't mushy and had probably been heated. A mound of lobster or crab on top of a bisque looks pretty but the meat is typically cold and takes your soup from piping to room temp in no time flat. Kudos to the chef for thinking this through.

The infused oil did have an unintended effect. With the setting sun shining through the window it now looked like my glass had lipstick on it. From the earlier missteps I was fast becoming hyper-critical and jumped to a conclusion. Turned out it was from the infused oil on my lips. My bad. Chastised by M I went and had a time-out.

Per our request Finn's entree arrived while we were having our appetizers. The menu offers all their pasta dishes at half size for an app - or the perfect size for a little foodie. We ended up ordering the potato gnocchi. Served with mushrooms and a meat ragout Finn went to town on this. I tried it, got a dirty look from Finn, and had to agree it was outstanding.

M went shellfish for dinner, lobster that is. A de-shelled, one and half pounder, over a bed of orzo style rice. This plate was pretty to look at and lived up to the presentation. The rice was nearly a risotto, mild and creamy, the lobster meaty, not stringy or overcooked. Just a great combination.

I went with a special for the evening, Wagyu Beef - a Kobe style beef from Australia. I had asked for guidance on cooking temps and jumped at Pittsburgh Rare (seared to the point of burning on the outside and nearly blue rare on the inside). When the plate arrived I realized I may have made a mistake. The steak (I have no idea what cut, it could have been a slice of untrimmed tenderloin or an eye of round) was less than an inch thick, too thin for Pittsburgh cooking, and was thickly coated with some sort of rub. Sure enough it was cooked unevenly inside from rare to medium, the amount of spices masked the subtle flavours that are the hallmark of Kobe/Wagyu, and, while I know it is supposed to be highly marbled it was, quite frankly, greasy. One entire side of the steak was not marbled, it was gristle. For the price of the dish I would not expect my favourite part to be the whole cloves of roasted garlic (they were really good!).

Desserts and coffee came next. I can always tell someone is paying attention if my espresso arrives hot due to a preheated cup. I am a bit curious as to when restaurants stopped serving espresso with a lemon peel, this has been happening a lot lately, but on request the waiter returned with one peel that may have consumed an entire lemon. The desserts we ordered were excellent. M's Tiramisu was coated in cocoa and well liquored but not soggy. Finn and I shared a dessert that billed itself as having a beignet (more like a small puff pastry with a light chocolate ganache inside) with a wonderful hazelnut mousse. We were full and happy.

Flash forward to 3 in morning and me hunched over giving homage at the temple of porcelain. We shared nearly all our dishes but I was the only ill one. I could still taste the greasiness of the overpriced Wagyu but I really think it was the tepid baked clam. This morning brought a few more agonies but I am feeling much better now, thanks.

A bad clam won't condemn a restaurant in my eyes and there were enough good, ambitious dishes that I do believe we will be back. I would really like to try their 7 course tasting menu but a meal that long requires a trip without Finn.

Bloggers & Beignets

Week two of Louisiana Flair's Beignet Wednesday made it worth getting up. It's a little tough getting a toddler going a little earlier in the morning but the promise of deep fried pastry seemed to make all the difference. It's a very nice way to start the day. Trading food talk with Veronica, of Veronica's Test Kitchen, was fun and seeing Paul Hammond first thing in the morning wasn't as bad as some people might think...

Things You Pass On To Your Kids - Whether You Want To Or Not

For those of us with kids, and many without, we've all cringed just a bit when out shopping and some parent, with kids in tow, starts dropping 'f' bombs right and left. You feel a bit sorry for their kids and you hope that your kid isn't paying attention and REALLY hope that their kid doesn't become your kids classmate and pass on their vocabulary, or lack thereof. We try not to swear in front of Finn but sometimes things slip out. My real downfall is a little bit of road rage. Finn has started beeping an imaginary horn while we drive and, on more than one occasion, questioned a bad drivers intelligence. Bad habit on my part that I need to reign in before it becomes a habit for him. There are other things that we pass on to our children that we can't help.

When Finn was a month old he was in danger of receiving a 'failure to thrive' diagnosis. M was breastfeeding but he just wasn't getting enough. The difficult decision to supplement with formula was made. We had already noted that Finn had a few skin problems, inherited from me, but while the formula helped him put on weight his skin conditions became much worse. Finn's doctors kept switching formulas, more obscure and more expensive, but finally decided to escalate matters. Anyone who opposes universal healthcare because of some irrational fear of waiting for treatment hasn't been told that the pediatric dermatologist will see your infant in six months - our system is broken. Our wonderful pediatrician, Dr. Day (from Minnesota - it was like having your child taken care of by the sheriff from Fargo), pulled a few favours and got Finn in much more quickly. So it was then that Finn was introduced to the wonders of great PHARMA (we only treat the disease as there is no profit in a cure) and ended up on the exact same creams that I use to manage my psoriasis.

Being around kids for the past couple of years I have made an observation. Kids learn language to communicate their needs. Finn, a normally content child, learned letters and numbers but didn't really want too many things and thus didn't really speak. His first need? One of his first words? 'Lotion.' So here we have my genes dooming Finn to a lifetime of creams, lotions, and the burning (or itching) question - can I dress comfortably or do I have to cover up my arms and legs?

This spring has brought a new joy for Finn, also from me, allergies. Mine were so bad they nearly stunted my childhood. 1970's prescription Benedryl (at least I think that is what it was) made me so woozy I slept through many a spring day. If I didn't take it I had to stay inside instead of going out to play with my friends. On more than one occasion I had to be led home by friends because we walked through a field and my eyes swelled shut.

My heart fell a couple of weeks ago as Finn started sneezing, nose running, and the clincher - rubbing his eyes. His don't seem to bad as mine were but that could just be geography. I grew up in the hay fever capital of the world, the Willamette Valley in Oregon. He also has an advantage I didn't, Claritin. Once again, Pharma is treating the problem rather than curing it but they hit a home run here. So, while I may have passed this problem on to the next generation, Finn may not have to watch the spring go by each year through a window of fog or glass.

Just A Bit Of "Too Much Information" - Parental Milestone Edition

After months of headaches, bribery, vain attempts at logic and hours of specially made DVD's we seem to have had a breakthrough today. I suspected that something along this line might happen today. The discussion all day had been that 'you poop in the potty not in your pants.' Several false alarms followed. Then, suddenly, I heard the magic words - 'Daddy, I need to go poop in the potty'.

Off we marched towards the bathroom, singing as we went. 'Poop in the potty, poop in the potty, poop in the potty.' I positioned him on his potty and left him to his own devices. Within a couple of minutes I heard more singing from the bathroom, of the unintelligible 3-year-old type. In the bathroom.... there was poop in the potty. Much rejoicing. Let's hope it's a new trend.

Editors Note - No, that is not an action shot. I'm not that cruel...

Lousiana Flair & The Road To Beignets

Last month my sister came to visit from Philadelphia and we took her to brunch at Can-Can. While Can-Can is normally, and still is, one of our favourite restaraunts the brunch was a bit of a disappointment. Of particular note were the heavy, bitter beignets. I whined a bit and then moved on. Elsewhere in the city, this little whine started something stirring.

Fellow blogger, Paul Hammond, got a craving for beignets and put out the call to his readers for suggestions on where to get beignets to satisfy his need as he has some sort of tragic history of deep frying on his own. Ideas and reminisces poured in from near and far. Mr Hammond recalled that at one point beignets were served at a little cajun restaurant downtown called Louisiana Flair. I'm not sure what kind of cajoling or threats Mr Hammond used but the chef at Louisiana Flair agreed to bring back the beignets, at least on a limited basis.

That brings us to this gray Wednesday morning. Finn and I were up early enough for a little stop on our way to the store. Louisiana Flair is, in keeping to it's cajun roots, a mish-mosh of mismatched chairs and tables. Porcelain masks and feathers line the walls with a smattering of Mardi Gras beads here and there. Just enough to add character but not to the point of gaudy. A big chalkboard over the cooking area outlined the offerings. A quick glance bespoke of poboys of various types but that's not what we were there for so I didn't pay it a whole lot of attention.

There was actually a little line when we arrived so we took our place but we must have had some sort of needy look so the chef called out the question to me. 'Beignets?' I affirmed and went to find a place for Finn and I to sit. Juice for the little boy and coffee from the thermal carafe for me. The coffee was steaming hot and from Carytown Coffee. Quite good. While we waited for the fried dough to arrive we met and chatted with another local blogger, Veron from Veronica's Test Kitchen. We must get down to the Farmer's Market this Saturday to get some of her macarons!

A few minutes later the plate of three large beignets arrived. Properly dusted with powdered sugar they looked wonderful. Some sort of jam or preserve came on the side but I pushed it out of the way, not wanting to have to de-jam a 3-year-old. We dug in. A little crispy, light yet doughy, sweet but not overloaded. Perfect. Coffee, apple juice, 3 large beignets: $5. We might have to stop in next Wednesday!

Stealing Cooking Ideas, Spring Blooms & Potty Training

FOOD
~On a pre-birth visit to RVAFoodies we sampled a dish that really caught our eye, both for it's simplicity and it's taste. Grilled Nebulsi Cheese. M procured some from the Mediterranean Market off Broad on Meadow. The cheese is mild with a bit of a tang and I agree with Foodie when he says it's a 'taste of spring.'

To prepare heat a non-stick pan (the flatter the better or a griddle would be best) over medium high heat and spray with a bit of olive oil to lightly coat the pan. Slice the cheese into 1/4 inch strips. Place in pan and grill until a crispy coat starts to form, less than 2 minutes. Flip and grill until brown, less than a minute. Remove to plate to cool.

The pieces we did were a bit big so we actually cut them in half so they were bite size for both us and little Finn (he loves this dish). It took a couple of tries to make this come out right. Too high heat and it melts to the point where you can't flip it but the mistakes were still tasty. The 'to go' menu looks really good so we'll be back to try some of the Market's other offerings.

FLOWERS
This last week saw our yard come into bloom. The star magnolia (planted 5 years ago and already nearly 20 feet), which failed to bloom last year put up a valiant effort this year and produced a multitude of 8 inch flowers. Sadly, the 70 degree then freezing the next weather we've had over the last couple of weeks prevented the blooms from fully opening and the five days of rain we had going into the weekend destroyed the flowers completely. On the bright side the rain made the soil soft enough that we did some major planting yesterday, including an Elizabeth Magnolia, a rare specimen that produces yellow flowers, and a fig tree in hopes of making some sort of fig sauce suitable for foie gras in the coming years.

The tulip beds in the front also did better this year, in spite of the early spring in January and the pack of feral cats that have spent the last couple off months peeing on the poor struggling plants.


POTTY TRAINING

Potty training has been going well, for the most part. It's been a couple of weeks now that Finn has been sleeping through the night in big boy underwear and we have yet to have had an accident. One small fly in the ointment. Pooping. Can't get him to do it on the potty for the life of us. We've noticed he has a pattern. He'll go into his room and close the door or, if he's with me at the store, he'll lie on his stomach under a table reading a book. Now we just have to catch him before the critical moment and move him to the potty. Hopefully we'll get through this soon as I am getting a bit tired of dealing with the crap... :)

Goodbye Claudette

We lost one of oldest customers here at the Richmond store late Monday night. Claudette Yamin, mother of American Idol singer Elliott Yamin, had been coming to our store here since we first opened (once with pre-Idol Elliott in tow). She was a very kind women who had a bit of a rough life until her son found fame and she carved out a niche as a speaker. The last couple of times I saw her she had not been doing all that well and had been in and out of the hospital last year. As I had not seen her since the holidays I tried calling her cell phone about a month ago, only to find it disconnected.

She enjoyed suspense and thriller novels and her favourite author was Daniel Silva. Whenever he had a new book coming out I always set one aside for her. She would also indulge little Finn and let him run off with her cane whenever she was in. Our hearts go out to Elliott and her family. She will be missed.