Read Drink & Be Merry

Overheard by a friend dining out at Si the other night…

Customer – What beers do you have?

Waiter – Heineken, Corona, Sam Adams.  Let me know quickly which you would like, we only have two of each.

WTF!  OK, I probably got the beers wrong but the point is if you can’t stock your bar anymore then you are in serious trouble.  Of course my track record is mediocre when it comes to declaring the death of a restaurant.  Sensi, thankfully, is still chugging along and I hear they are still living up to and exceeding expectations for delivering great food.  Bookbinder’s is slightly changed.  The Taxin’s fired the management (no great loss) and are trying to keep it going.

Boys night out is an age old tradition.  The wife and kids go to visit a sister in a far away town leaving the husband to fend for himself, alone, at home.  Calls go out to friends to see who wants to hit the town and have some fun.  Matt Marinara is in, another Matt is a maybe, RVA Foodie on the other hand seems more interested in some female wrestling event and selects to spend the evening in the basement of his house. So, with the people picked the next question is ‘Where?’

Dance clubs are out.  The evening starts too late and spouses tend to frown upon that.  Sports bars hold no interest for me nor would karaoke.  Good drinks and decent things to sample are more my speed.  The other key would be lots of places to choose from in a small area so we’re not tempted to drive.  Shokoe Bottom seems to fit the bill.

The first place we decided to hit was Morton’s.  Martinis at the bar and perhaps a little cold shellfish seemed to be a good way to start the evening.  The martinis were good and cold as was the lobster and crab.  The bartender, Chettie (of Chettie’s Cow & Clam back in the day), was polished and professional.  The bar… meh.  It’s dark and cozy but is awfully tiny.  Waiters yelling through the service window were a little disruptive but when the twelve strong bachelorette party the noise level bouncing off the walls of the tiny wood paneled room grew to an unbearable point.  One drink and gone.

The next stop was Cha-Cha’s.  Loud, boys and girls on the prowl, a whole flock of girls circling Jack like vultures around carrion. Probably would have loved this place when I was younger.  Now, everything I touched felt dirty and sticky.  The guys loud and oafish, the girls just one shot away from staring in a ‘Girls Gone Wild’ video.  Time to walk briskly away.

The rest of our walk through the Bottom was interesting but more of the same.  Loud music, very drunk kids (a couple of them passed out on the sidewalk in their own puke.), full sensory overload.  In the midst of all this chaos there was a little of corner of darkness, Julep’s, closed for the evening.  Or was it….  A few feet away from the main door is a very odd door, one with no handle.  We approached and dialed a number on my cell.  Moments later the door opened and we slipped in.

It seems, after the restaurant has finished serving and the shutters on the windows closed, they re-open, but very discretely around 11 on the weekends.  In the spirit of an old speakeasy they are open but only if you know how to get in.  After the noise, the August heat and the stumbling drunks it was nice to go inside to the cool and quiet peace.  Soft music was playing.  The darkness broken by candle lit tables with people relaxing comfortably.  We pulled up to the bar and made ourselves at home.

A cocktail list was offered with an array of interesting concoctions.  Of course there was a mint julep, possible the best one in town and served in a pewter cup.  I selected a nice Hendrick’s Cocktail.  The small batch gin muddled with cucumber is a wonderful combination.  Sadly my diet required me to have the simple syrup replaced with Splenda but it was good none the less.

While the dinner service was over they still offered appetizers.  Pickled Shrimp served with a tangy cream and a trout pate fit the bill wonderfully.  Compared to the bar food being served at our other stops this seemed like returning to civilization after a long slog in the wilderness.  Don’t get me wrong, the other places we wandered through that evening were fun and I would have been barhopping with the best them in my younger days.  I can still drink most of them under a table but as an adult my tastes have become more refined.  Spending an evening down in the Bottom and all the drunken kiddies was made enjoyable thanks to this little oasis.

I’d tell you the secret number but then I would have to kill you….
Oh, OK – 651-8621 – I’ve programmed it into my cell.
Read more…

Last year the city was abuzz with the impending, and oft delayed, arrival of Gibson’s Grill.  Attached to The National, Richmond’s hot new music venue, it was billed as a showcase of good food for before and after the shows.  Speculation and anticipation was rampant as the owners had a reputation that made the hype more than just a bit believable.  Initial reports from various sources who attended the soft opening and the early months were mostly positive – both for the service and the food.  Sadly, we were not able to partake in all this as M was pregnant with Elias and the collapse of the economy last Fall caused us to become a bit more frugal.  Gibson’s was still on our hit list to visit and when a friend’s band, Three Sheets To The Wind, played The National we decided to take advantage of the evening at give Gibson’s a try….

The upstairs is quite nice and inviting.  It looks like the place you want to hang out at before a show.  Sadly, we were seated downstairs with wobbly tables, lounging staff and a very loud kitchen.  When the waitress finally realized she had a table to deal with she came to talk to us.  Inquiries about the types of gin were met with a blank look and a very long trip to find out what they had.  Turns out pretty basic stuff, nothing interesting or even what is being served at some of the mid-range restaurants in town.  Later, as we were leaving and I glanced at the bar stock, I found out she hadn’t really even bothered to tell me all of the offerings.  Note to waiters – you cannot drive up a check average it you do not even know what you have so you can make suggestions.  Note to managers – those expensive bottles you stock will not sell unless you educate and test your wait staff.  Had I been able to sample some of the Hendrick’s Gin I might have been a little happier.

Appetizers were the next disappointment.  The nachos were no better or worse then any casual dining chain, except for the slightly soggy chips from the puddle of liquid on the plate.  The salads looked to have been prepped during the afternoon and the dressing came in little plastic cups – how very Applebee’s.  My order of Panko Fried Scallops were the worst.  The first clue was being able to smell them before they even reached the table.  The wet-pack scallops made the fried panko soggy and the scallops themselves alternated between raw and cooked to the point of rubber.  I haven’t had scallops this bad since the 80’s at some coastal dive in a ‘basket’.

Entrees fared little better.  M and a friend both had the Steak Wrap.  Mediocre would be kind.  The chopped steak tasted as if it had been made in batches once every few days and returned each night to a steam table.  Either that or microwaved.  L had the French Dip.  What came out was enormous, at least five inches tall.  That was impressive till you looked at the interior of the two halves of the sandwich and realized it was all bread and a half inch of meat.  The only bright spot of the meal was my entree, which was actually off the appetizer menu, Mini Lamb Burgers.  The taste was excellent and the yogurt fennel sauce blended well with the lamb.  They would have been really memorable if they hadn’t been grilled past well done.

For a restaurant that was hyped as a showcase to compliment The National this was truly disappointing.  Hopefully visiting acts will seek their food elsewhere. Perhaps the owner’s other very good restaurants – Kuba Kuba and Kitchen 64 – and not what seems to be a complete afterthought from them.