brabo tasting room, 1600 king street, west end, old town alexandria

(pictured is the butcher's block, just next door to the tasting room)

a couple of months ago i inadvertently stepped in to the tasting room on my way to eat next door at brabo. and ever-so-briefly i admired groups of fun attractives enjoying what seemed like a hip joint. [not to be confused with a hip joint replacement.]


i'm supposed to be attending my high school reunion in oklahoma right this minute, but due to the amount of work i have, combined with my interminable misfortune with airlines, it's simply impossible to be there. next best thing - i created my own mini high school reunion. complete with too many glasses of wine, barking up potentially wrong trees and general buffoonery. but still looking very cute nonetheless.

facebook's a wondrous miracle for reconnection. as i'm aware, and keep using to my benefit. and tonight's gonna be no exception.

recently i've befriended another stillwater high school pioneer [that's what we were, the pioneers, shut up i'm from oklahoma] who's lived minutes from me all this time. how tragic that we're only now figuring this out. well, whatever, everything happens for a blah, blah, blah.

we plan a night out to do some catching up. at brabo's tasting room in old town. newly single, she needs a means of escapism and [i'm always on the prowl for fun] i've been wanting to check this spot out since my date with frenchy at brabo. it's a gorgeous friday evening in june. i should mention that i got studstall parking right up front. west end old town is remarkable for this reason alone. and yes, this is a tremendous foretaste of the evening.

entering the tasting room, instead of the conventional hostess stand greeting, you're welcomed by smiling happy chefs operating the wood-fire oven. hot. right there at the door, separated from you only by a little counter. oh no, one is conspicuously cute. oh yes, indeed.

"can we sit anywhere?" sous chef nods to my right, where there are four secluded booths offering a great view to the passers-by on king street. those tables are too quiet though. we're looking for romance, but not with each other. i think area to my left looks like more potential excitement [and eye-catching, and we want to catch someone's]. she and i are about to have a marathon convo session but we're way too attractive to be put in a corner. [nobody puts baby in a corner. right?]

to the left are more diner-esque booths along with a communal high-top table, smack in the center of this tiny place. the room is white on white. very fresh and clean feeling [great for you ocd germaphobes]. it's a tiny avant-garde but then it's got some exposed brick mixed in and a lot of natural light filling the room. it's bright but it's still real comfy. we opt for the communal table. as i always say, though not always do, you gotta put yourself out there.

i am sensing this night could go one way: we chitchat have a glass of vino and part ways by 8:30, i go home and get my arse on the sofa and command of the remote. or it could go the other: blowoutgirlsgonewild. then there's a number of scenarios in between.

one of the cool things about single chics is you never know what kind of turn the night's gonna take. especially when you haven't seen each other in 10 years [what is it with me livin it up bigstyle with long lost pals?]. is she up for it? am i?

hell to the yeah.

only semi-concerned about the ass-spread you get when perched upon them, we hop up onto the barstools right smack in the middle of the room. straight away, ari, waiter, brings menus and asks our prefs on wine - white or red? i'm the ever-loving white wine fan during the summer months. as is my friend. he brings us each a taste just to make sure he's on the right track. this guy's a total gem by the way. he's utterly helpful and attentive and concerned and big. he's huge for such a tiny spot. but, really how cool is a no strings attached wine taste? i wonder how many tastes you can get before you settle on one. we quickly decide on the danielle de l’ansée sauvignon blanc 2007 loire at a very reasonable almost cheap $8 a glass. i suggest a bottle but it's the same price per glass. again, a non-committal place. i feel right at home.

the tasting room is still new - having opened maybe three months ago, but a reputation is already established for their house-made charcuterie and wood fired tarts. tarts? crispy thin crust yummy "pizza" that all pizza should be. also the mussels. and belgian beers. all are known to be quite good. oh and i saw a huge and delicious looking sandwich walk by. my friend tells me she's picky and is leaving everything to me. i always leave everything to the waiter, who suggests charcuterie. again. what the? as you well know, i'm having a lifelong affair with charcuterie and therefore this is the perfect place for me. it is. everything is meant to be shared and snacked on.

the bread is delicious here - i forgot to ask where it's from. charcuterie plate comes complete with caperberries, which i adore and believe that there needs to be more caperberry-serving restos. also, cornichons, artichoke hearts, various meats and a duck liver pate. yum sweet yum. our wine was perfectly paired for such an occasion. buttery smooth complimentary to the meats and pate.

i'm secretly worried that this isn't going to be enough for me, i'm so in love with this food. eat slowly everything will be ok, i tell myself. and it is. we are talking like you read about. we each recount the past 10 years of our lives. story by story by story. good, bad, ugly.

[speaking of, we're actually experiencing this right now - the scene at the tasting room is good for the food/wine/great service/cute sous chef, bad because there are no singles but us, ugly packed with tourists. damn. did i mention it's attached to the new lorien hotel and spa [a kimpton property - yay for old town]. we are totally gonna bounce after we eat to find a better looking scene with more potential. tasting room isn't going to be romantically productive for us. waitaminute... waiter over there is cute too.

well we proceed to get pretty comfortable here. i hope my friend isn't too keen on bolting because i have now engaged sous chef in conversation at his station in front of wood fire. about food and the fact that i too used to be a cook in a resto. blah, blah, blah. he's way cute, he is. i know he doesn't want us to leave because he's bored of looking at x-tra large fanny-packed patrons. i don't blame him.

me, i'm a vision in all white with my cute new saja top from ginger boutique and white linen pants. my friend she's a long blonde bombshell. he tempts us to stay by inviting us to pull up barstools at his station. really? this is legal? yes, do it, i'll make you ladies some nice things [impress you with my cooking prowess]. ok [don't need to ask me twice]. plus, i'm gonna get to know this sweetthing up close and personal. we have plenty to talk about and could bore the living daylights out of my friend if i continue talking shop with sous chef. sadly, tightassed manager who looks and behaves like a pit boss in an otherwise casual cool hangout, puts the kabash on our front row situation. he "needs the space" [to lean on while he watches the flat screen].


back to our spot at the communal, we're vip rockstars now and friends with everyone working here, 'cept manager. and we have a tart coming. a tart, people - topped with fresh mozzarella, virginia prosciutto and basil. i firmly believe when a chef wants to send a couple cuties food, it's the same thing as when a peacock spreads his plumage. i'm totally going to allow it and shower him with praise. an operative flirting tactic hopefully. i might be a little smitten kitten. i am.

next thing ya know. a couple of my blast from the past citronelle buddies come through the door - they work at brabo behind the bar. again, at home i am here at the tasting room. so i'm telling sous chef he should hurry with his silly closing inventory duties and change and meet us at our next spot. he's sadly so sadly got too much to do though and not sure he's gonna make it. thank goodness i have the wherewithall to get his number and email address [he's offering to help me cook for upcoming events - and this may be the one time i decide to take someone up on that, big big smile].

my girlfriend - now we're like old friends again - entirely in the know about each other's lives and fully supergirl bonded due to wine and deepdark secret sharing - shut down the tasting room and decide to head over to union street for some ridonkulous extension of this so-far perfect night. i know, what the? when was the last time you saw the insides of that place? we shut it down too and headed home. at 3 am. impressive, yes?

i will definitely revisit the tasting room. i wish i could think of a non-stalking reason to get there asap. after perusing my receipt i'm so pissed at myself for the 20% tip i left and wish i'd left ari more. i'm not known for being cheap normally. $hit. i'm guilt-ridden over that.

p.s. sous chef texted me the next morning. we're gonna get together this week for a cocktail. maybe i do have game.

matchbox vintage pizza bistro, 521 8th street se, capitol hill, dc

so a couple saturdays ago after my birthday evening out, my dear friend and i (in rough shape much like our younger years found us on saturday mornings) decided we better check out the new matchbox location on capitol hill in hopes of curing what was ailing us. the night before was a champagne wonderland of girls being girls. girls gone wild. minus the midriff baring, beer-chugging keg-stands. our version of girls gone wild is much more civilized than it used to be but so much fun, nonetheless.

so, i picked her up saturday morning (at 1:30 pm) from undisclosed location near cap hill wearing same outfit as night before. black, sequined shirt, skinny black pants, platform pumps and all, slightly less glamorous than she looked the prior night. let me tell you this was no ordinary february 7 - it was gorgeous outside - nearly 65 degrees - so her get-up was even funnier we thought.

oh thank goodness the fine folks at matchbox had a seat for us. (rumor has it it's been jam-packed since day 1 and it's a biatch to get in to). sadly they didn't have a booth for us. isn't that all we really want in life - a nice cushy booth with lots of space and no one touching us, no one close enough to hear us, smell us, or even look at us when we're hung over? oh well we can't have it all. we were actually sitting uncomfortably snugly between two couples along the wall. and you know what? we didn't give a rat's arse - we were happy to be laughing and rehashing the night before - again, just like old times.

everyone has already been to the matchbox in chinatown, i'm sure, but i'm writing about this one, ok? i haven't been to the old location in moons as it happens so i'm talking about it like i've never been, which i haven't, to this just-opened location.

oh my brain was not functioning that day. how i went from not wanting to celebrate my birthday at all to having a full-fledged 3:30 am stumbling home blowout i don't know. what the heck happened to me? i'll tell you what happened. i never go out - i'm boring and busy and never go out. therefore when i do, it's like letting a wild, caged animal out of the zoo. he goes crazy, throws caution to the wind, finds a lampshade and puts it on his head, dances in public like michael jackson and thinks he's really funny. really really funny. that aside, back to matchbox, the new locale.

it's so incredibly big, ginormous. you think it's going to be a tiny little hole in the wall from it's downplayed location on 8th street, nestled amongst the beer pubs, and old mixed with new shops of all sorts. everything is new and shiny and clean but rustic with exposed pipes and brick. i love the look of it. they have a loft upstairs too - thank goodness they didn't make us walk those stairs though. i think it'd be fun to sit at the high-top tables at the bar too next time. note to self for future: i think there might be some hotties hanging out here on the weekends, drinking beer with their gourmet pizza. could be my type of guy.

we were so excited to get a pizza. matchbox is known for having great pizza - the kind i really love - thin, crispy crust with simple toppings. we had a hangover hankering for a tomato and mozzarella pizza with basil. simple.

well that is until we saw the mini burgers! we must order those too, we said. and we did. you should know mini burgers are all the rage now. but people call them mini burgers and they're really not that mini - they're actually the perfect size burger. (i make the smallest burgers in town - and they're mini burgers - they're tiny burgers; maybe i should call them mini sliders, because a slider is a mini burger, right?)

anyway, we get three mini burgers, ordered with bleu cheese on top. well, we think our neighbors got our burgers and ours came with smoked gouda or something. oh well, they were still really good. they come with a mountain of fried onions on top. impressive looking but they're too thin to eat. they're also not crispy. they're limp and oily. hey, limp and oily actually reminds me of another story. well, perhaps another time. i know a lot of people really go crazy for these but not me. they fall into the shoestring fry category for me. i like a little more substance in my fried onions (and my french guys, i mean fries).

we ordered our pizza and started to eat it when sadly, the crust isn't crispy at all! turns out the mozzarella and tomatoes have so much water in them they can't get the crust crispy! what??? oh no - this won't do. no gummy pizza when you're hung over.

our neighbors sitting {in our laps} next to us to us (probably annoyed with us eye-balling their pizza like starving children) inform us they too have ordered the mozzarella tomato pizza with disappointment, sent it back to be "crisped up" without luck. damn, sam. they said we could have some of their pizza if they wanted. sweet, no?

see, this is what i'm talking about: you're just too close to people in some restaurants. somedays you feel like making friends with your neighbors and some days you just don't. when i should have been a grumpasaurus rex though, i actually didn't mind - the alcohol level in my blood was still fairly high i think so i was somewhat perky and still pretty darn funny. my friend couldn't resist telling them she doesn't normally dress like this on saturday afternoons.

by the way, they don't have fresh tomatoes - we asked! darnit, they were using stewed whole tomatoes. i know tomatoes aren't in season but still, roast up some fresh ones - that's what you do when they're not in season! please for the love of all things holy!! call me for a quick and useful lesson on making fresh tomatoes taste good - roast 'em up! garlic, olive oil, herbs, salt, pepper, sugar. geez, louise!

instead, we ordered a different pizza. sausage, roasted red peppers and onions. it came out hot and crispy and perfect. i wished we'd gotten a large but we only had a medium. neighbor boy ordered the best looking bloody mary i think i've ever laid eyes on. for once i just couldn't do it though. i knew it would easily send me back into la la land and i had to get home and watch some quality lifetime television for women movies and rest. (neighbor boy was, by the way, pretty cute my friend tells me - i was too blinking close to distinguish his features - kind of like a monet.)

you know, one of the things i think is kind of strange in this today's age of restaurants shutting down all over the place because of the economy, lowering their prices, firing people, etc., when i see the amount of money that must've gone into the menus at matchbox i think what a waste. they're gorgeous, sleek and chic as can be bound with real wood on the front and back covers. the decor of this place is so cool because it's done so perfectly well - it's so clean and new but has a rustic, not trying-too-hard, casual appeal to it. then the menu goes against everything else they've done to create this feel. i don't get it. i'm sure no one else thinks of this but me. just an observation.

i was real happy with that place, i gotta tell you. i love the atmosphere. the 2nd pizza we got was perfectly done just right. we boxed up the first one and i ate it later. from the comfort of my sofa as i used the rest of my day to fully recover from the transgressions of the night before.

thank goodness for matchbox pizza.