Les idiots a le bar

So, back to last night. T and I were seated at the corner of the bar: around the bend, to T's left, were four seats; flanking my right, the long arm of the ell, were about six more. Initially, there were two lovely couples sitting at my ten o'clock, yet unfortunately, they were soon replaced by two more, and, as I was facing T, I was a box-seat patron to the theatrical spectacle happening off the port bow. Homme A: Robert Pattinson look-alike saunters in, all puffed hair and pomposity. He's sheathed in layers of black for that casual, "I might have just rolled out of bed but whether I did or not, you can bet these duds set me back some" look. He conspicuously peels off his sweater, revealing the lowest scoop neck tee I've ever seen on a man. Did he shave his chest for this or is he simply rather bare? I'm not sure but I was taken aback by his plunging neckline. He ruches each sleeve up as if he wishes it were a cap-sleeved shirt but primarily to show off a tat and some decently toned guns. I dare say it takes a real sense of "I feel cool" to set one's sleeves in this manner, and to repeatedly do so as naturally, they slipped. Insufferable!

He proceeds to ask for tastes of pretty much every red by the glass on the list, finally, feigning fluster and defeat, he declares, "just give me $20 by the glass, I'm just gonna go for it." Bartender, cool as a cucumber/hip/good at his job, invokes Vincent Vega's exclamation about the $5 milkshake (see Pulp Fiction) and ultimately serves the guy a glass for $18 (the $20 was a 1986 Italian, and I felt kinda glad he reserved it for someone who'd know what was being poured).

Dame A: Homme A's gal-pal, she comes in chewing gum like she's in a contest to see who can smack it the loudest and largest. Hey tonsils, how are you? And, as if she were an LA celeb, she is, despite the warm'ish weather, clad in an enormous knit sweater which she kept wrapping around her face, and on occasion in her mouth, like a toddler might with a beloved safety blanky. She finally, and to her credit fairly discreetly, gets rid of the gum, takes 2 bites of her sea bass crudo, and returns to her sweater.

Homme & Dame B: In one of those "you should really stop looking but can't" moments, I stare, mouth agape, at Fleshy-faced, Suit-wearing, iPhone-tethered, Buddy Holly Glasses as he assumes the position to sweater girl's right. He looks peevish and gruff, to put it mildly. From the band encircling his left ring finger, I take it he's married to the lass on his right, who is pouty and quiet and rather lacking in the top-lip department. She pulls out her glittery silver iPhone -wouldn't you?- at which point he actually looks at her and starts hissing in one of those more than audible anger-whispers about how obsessed she is and PUT.IT.AWAY. He then returns to his, and she pouts a bit more -wouldn't you?. They order some wine and eventually have one more intense conversation, so intense you're wondering if they're plotting to take over the world in five minutes but she forgot the briefcase with the codes back at home.

Charleston, Day 2: feeling happy and fat

Do you know one reason I love going on trips to vibrant cities? Invariably you walk. A lot. Everywhere maybe; we sure are. This pedi-motion lifestyle is one of the things I miss most sincerely about life in New York- exercise and seeing your city from a foot-based vantage point are built in to a life there, and really, it adds so much. I didn't do much today beyond eat and walk, and what a glorious day it was. Blue skies, a shining sun, sales at almost every store!, great food in abundance. We finally left our room around 10:30am and headed to Black Tap, a fantastic coffee house in a residential/college neighborhood that really reminded me of New Orleans. Coffee-elitist alert: I don't usually preference Counter Culture joe, but my latte and T's cappuccino at Black Tap were both superb. Creamy, coffee, not a hint of sour...bellissimo! Afterwards, we meandered our way southeast to lunch at Husk, Bon Appétit's Best New Restaurant in America award recipient in 2011. It did not disappoint. As we're on vacation, T and I decided to share a Fire in the Orchard, an Old Fashioned'ish cocktail comprised of rye, smoked apple cider, Applejack, bitters, pickled jalapeño and muddled sugar; the booziness factor was off the charts, but it was quite good, lasted throughout the entire meal and paired wonderfully with our dishes, many of which contained a smoked element or two. We also ordered a sweet tea each, the taste of which immediately jolted me back to my Mimi's kitchen in Toccoa, GA, the tiny town in which my Dad grew up.

We shared an order of wood-grilled Brussels sprouts and sweet potatoes with a bacon crumble on top (insane perfection) as well as an arugula salad with beets, blue and pecan granola, T then went with the catfish BLT and I opted for the shrimp and grits. Holy shit on this bowl of shrimp and grits. Even T, an avowed grits-skeptic and generalized sweet pepper-hater, was like "good god, that is insanely good." I couldn't finish anything but was thrilled to simply taste such a panoply of great food.

The fact that all this merely constituted lunch gave me even more in the way of possible-shopping-spree glee. I simply must walk, and walk far. Burn, burn, burn so as to be ready for dinner at F.I.G., Food Is Good. T headed back after a while but I just went into store after store, talking to folks, musing over wares, utterly enjoying my break from my life. Have I mentioned that the sun has shined continuously since our arrival? Good grief.

I finally decided it would be wise to rest just a bit so headed back to the hotel to meet T and clean up. Before I knew it, we were off to F.I.G., early in the hopes of snagging a spot at the bar since we were without reservations for a table. In general, I prefer to eat at the bar -so does T- and we were thrilled to find two open seats when we arrived at the nearly-psychotically early hour of 5:35pm. I have to hand it to FIG though; we were never rushed, had multiple drinks and a wonderfully drawn-out meal and left perfectly happy, satisfied and full. This was not a spot in which I'd dare take pictures but here's what we had and swooned over: house-made pappardelle with chicken confit (unbelievable), ricotta gnocchi with farm lamb bolognese (I didn't taste the lamb but the ricotta were other-worldly), roasted carrots with fennel pollen, farro picolo with broccoli and parmesan (possibly the second best item), sea bass crudo with cucumber, grapefruit and kumquat (insane!), and for T only, pig confit in a mustard-pork jus. His carrot puree could bring you to tears. In the middle, I decided I must have a slice of the meyer lemon tart that graced FIG's dessert menu, so had pretty much all of my veggies boxed in order to save room. Good call!

As I want to get to Downton watching, I won't regale you now with descriptions of our bar-mates: the v-neck wearing poser, his fist-bumping girl-toy, the fleshy-faced mean banker guy in Buddy Holly glasses or the lass who appeared to be his wife. But tomorrow yes, because it's all just too much and too good.

Charleston Day 1 review: great food, great wine, sunshine, sleep

Oh my goodness, y'all, this trip is such a gift at a time that couldn't be more perfect (most notably, in the desperation department). Since we arrived, we've seen nothing but blue skies and sunshine; we have literally felt the warmth of the sun. I cannot tell you how massively underrated this experience is. Glowing light and associated warmth do wonders for the soul and spirit. So does sleep! My god I slept until 9am this morning. Incroyable! So much to say... my portfolio of pics from yesterday is, by and large, an abomination. I do believe that in my sleepless state, I just couldn't get with the program of metering, flash and so forth. As such, only a few photos were reparable but perhaps they'll give you a small sense of Charleston's utter loveliness. Strolling this city, I was smitten with all the nooks and crannies, courtyards, and just-out-of-eyesight gardens and paths; so beguiling and mysterious, so charming, so aesthetically inspiring. Too, I love the use of color in juxtaposition with the vibrancy of the flora. Against a rich green, almost any color pops- just look at the hue of this exterior!

I was also completely taken with this façade which looks Italianate in some ways, as if the sun has dappled the wall for so long that of course such marbling has happened. And, as I mentioned yesterday, the iron work here is just beyond. I love the ruffled edge of this lamp shade!

After a lovely walk, we forced ourselves to return to the hotel to rest and ready for dinner. We had a reservation at McCrady's, the oldest restaurant in Charleston and one about which I'd heard much. The entrance is on Unity Alley, another seemingly innocuous short-cut between larger roads, and is marked by a charming gas lamp hanging from an iron scroll. T would do just about anything to have a gas lamp at our home, but the thought of using all that gas for nothing, really, about gives me hives. Even T says he'd feel wasteful and so we simply enjoy others. McCrady's is a really handsome restaurant, all dark wood, high ceilings, wine cellars and white tablecloths. This sort of setting usually leads in one of two ways: obnoxious pretension or wonderful conviviality. Fortunately, McCrady's takes the latter direction. Everyone was wonderfully professional and equally friendly; it almost felt like being at a Danny Meyer joint, one that takes enormous pride in the entirety of a fine dining experience but never takes itself too seriously, knowing how much that can spoil the experience of the diner. Amen to that!

We opted for the Restaurant Week tasting menu and in the meantime, T ordered a Hennepin as it was on tap, and I a glass of Chablis. Soon, our first courses arrived. I'd chosen the brassica salad which was a melange of mustard green, Brussels sprouts and other greens' leaves, shaved cauliflower, a fried disk of cauliflower custard, kale juice-infused panko, and Meyer lemon gelee. The fried B. sprouts leaves were such a great element in this salad, especially if you could manage to fork one of those and a bite of the fried custard.

Meanwhile, T was really pleased with his appy: a poached farm egg dusted with sumac and perched atop some grits, braised leeks, leek jelly and crunchy miso'd farro. I loved the idea (and taste) of leek jelly!

Next up was a dish the chef had created from a slew of ingredients that had arrived just hours earlier: fresh stone crab, baby beets and kumquats. It was both invented and only available yesterday and was thus an optional add-on. My only regret is that we decided to share one order rather than each getting our own. This was absolutely remarkable food. The saltiness and utter freshness of the crab was highlighted by a delicate brown butter drizzled on top, thinly shaved beets, candied kumquats, some kumquat curd and a small mound of Caroline ice cream, or gold rice. Not only was I glad to have a bit of Chablis left, a perfect match for this dish, but also that fresh bread had just arrived and T was, therefore, torn at every bite: bread or crab. I think I was able to poach a heftier share of crab!

If you can believe it, we then each had a proper entree and dessert. I'll spare you my detail except to say that with T's beautiful sirloin came a dollop of black truffle puree that made me swoon, and with my perfectly golden chicken came some exceptional spaetzle and more B. sprouts. Delish. The highlight of this course though was a glass of red wine from Lebanon that was the most memorable I've had in some time: the 2004 Cabernet/Carignan/Cinsault from Chateau Musar. I will definitely attempt to hunt this wine down in DC- you should find it too if you can! It was so soft, so velvety but not the least bit wimpy. Each sip filled my mouth in such a pleasing way. Aah!

T chose the chocolate ganache-peanut butter-caramel concoction for dessert (I was underwhelmed but other than a Reeses or Buckeye really don't groove on PB + chocolate) but I had the most marvelously creative, delicious frozen brioche parfait with, wait for it, tamarind curd and more kumquats. This was simply divine. They'd steeped the brioche in milk, pureed all that, and then frozen it (with liquid nitrogen, boo; I asked; was hoping my ice cream maker at home would suffice which it might but it'd never be able to approximate the ethereal creaminess of the parfait's texture), scooped it and topped it with toasted, candied brioche. The kumquats and tamarind were the most decadent finishing touches.

We felt happy to walk home, happy to tuck in and watch an episode of Downton Abbey, happy to fall asleep knowing nothing would wake us before we were ready. Off to the races, or more accurately, Day 2!