Asheville’s Social Lounge, the premier cocktail bar in downtown Asheville, is holding a night of cuisine and cocktails on July 30, 2014. Come join us for this special event on the rooftop! Limited seating, so call and make your reservations today.
While galavanting around Asheville recently, we ended up in the River Arts District, and in search of Sake. We stopped by Blue Kudzu and to our surprise, we had the opportunity to taste the first batch of Sake ever brewed! We added an array of delicious appetizers to the mix, and wow, what a drinking and dining experience. Michael, who is on staff, hosted us and helped make it a night to remember. This spot is a little off the beaten path, but well worth the 5-minute trip from downtown Asheville.
One of the things I love most about my city is that it has preserved an era…and completely by accident. For such a modern, progressive, and hip city, Asheville still knows how to hold onto the good ol’ days. Asheville is a wide-open time capsule full of hair feathers, drop-waisted dresses, Fitzgerald novels, and big band music. It’s present even when no one’s dressed in theme and the blues horns hush for the night. That “it” quality hangs around in the delightfully musty scents and subtly ornate ceilings of old 1920s buildings. It’s Ashevillians’ everyday stomping grounds.
48 Biltmore Avenue is no exception. In fact, the ceiling was the first thing I noticed upon walking into Chestnut, a restaurant and lounge here in Asheville. There’s something so romantic about the raised cream-colored tiles, that I later learned to no surprise, are the 1924 originals. I walked over to the bar and hopped up on the stool, going straight for the cocktail menu. The “Saint Graham” suspiciously favors the “Gin Rickey,” Nick Gatsby’s famed favorite drink. Gin and citrus. Just the sound of it makes me take a deeper breath.
One thing about Chestnut I must point out is that it is not themed. That’s perhaps why it’s great. It resurrects the lost generation organically. No fear of finding cheesy posters of This Side of Paradise, or cocktails named something like, “Hemming My Way.” It doesn’t exist, because there’s no need for a theme. This place is real. It’s relaxing; it’s smooth; it’s easy going; it’s new south delicious; it’s all Asheville.
After I devoured my fried green tomatoes, that were somehow the marriage of Grandma’s from the garden and a taste that can only be described as sassy, I chatted with manager, Ken Rethmeier. Much like the restaurant itself, Ken is laid back, inviting, and delighted to have us. He proudly filled us in on the ceilings, and original chestnut fixtures, and I could tell the history of the venue had become part of him as well. When great leadership, awesome service, history, and yummy food meet, the synergy of it all just sizzles. In this case it sizzles quietly, and refreshingly just like that first cocktail I laid eyes on. Gin and citrus everywhere.
I was entranced by the atmosphere, clearly, so I decided to look behind the curtain. I wanted to know what the quality was. Where did this food come from? When I found out it was all local, farm to table, and green, I was sold. This truly is the Asheville poster restaurant.
I asked Rethmeier, “What’s one thing you want me to know that I don’t? What do you want to tell me about this place?”
He replied with a grin, “it’s warm and inviting. You can come taste local craft food and cocktails…and we’re the only place that still hand chops ice.”
Hand chopped ice. I do believe I’ve made my case.
Ceiling
Bar
Cocktails
Beer is getting old in Asheville (well not really) but spicing it up with Tequila sounded like a plan to us. We started this mission at Fig Bistro, and have since tried and tested many other places. The type of beer we used? I liked it with a Catawba Firewater, a shot of Tequila, a splash of fresh lemon and lime, salt, and a lime riding the rim of my glass. Perfectomundo! So good.
At the Cantina at Biltmore Village, we tried it with Negro Modelo, and a White Zombie Ale. Delish. So now, since they have like 50 types of tequila at the bar, we have a lot of beer/tequila pairing and testing to do. Try it, you may like it! This may be a new movement in the works. The Asheville Beerita Culture lol.
When I start to write I want to feel a “yumminess” start to awaken me, trying to coax a story out. I do not sit down with a pen and look at the wall waiting for inspiration. Instead, I breathe in my surroundings, and exhale the thing that tickles me most. When writing about my amazing city, I do it much the same way. If something makes an impression on me, pretty soon, it’s ink spilled all over paper.
This week I could not stop thinking about Vincenzo’s Ristorente and Bistro in downtown Asheville. The first time I ate there was ten years ago when I was only 17. A prom date I soon regretted had taken me there, and at 17 I had no idea the taste of Northern Italy I was about to experience (nor the dose of culture). However, I do remember when I visited the real Italy only a few months later that something in Florence took me back to that pre-prom meal, which was the only good thing my date did that May evening.
I didn’t return for several years until one of girlfriends planned a special bachelorette evening for me the weekend before my wedding. I wish I could remember the name of the server who flattered me when he said every man on Earth would be crying on my wedding day. This is the kind of service women should receive everywhere in town, but I digress. On top of the service, I noticed things I had failed to as a prom-bound teenager, and it was more than just the wine list (which of course is phenomenal). It was the old world charm Asheville is so famous for touting on our rather young side of the pond. Certain parts of this city simply make the best eras stand still, and somehow Vincenzo’s captures more than one of them. First of all, there was the art-deco building that the little trattoria sits in…it was one of the casualties of poverty that left us one of our many pieces of architectural art in town. Moreover, there was a sound pulling me even closer to the jazz age…oh, that may have been the jazz music permeating out of the building. My guess is it was, and it was a smooth, smoky, almost tangible brand of jazz. It was the kind that ushers you right into its arms, clothing you in the cloth of a decade dedicated to music at it’s finest, where instruments and voices where explored and navigated through, only opening doors for what would later become a revolution…yeah I wore it that night, and whatever it was invaded me, and I dug it. Still, it took me a few years to make it back again. It was like the restaurant and I had become long lost lovers, passing in the night only ever so often…but tender are those nights we pass.
My latest venture there was just over a month ago for an old friend’s engagement party. I couldn’t wait. For one, I was still haunted by the ambiance, and two I wanted a reason to wear my new cocktail dress. Really, I wanted to feel fabulous and fussed over. We all did.
This time there was a different feel to restaurant. It was raining outside, and we’d had some unseasonably cool weather for the last few days of August. However, it was summer and still humid. There was a steam floating about the streets, and an eeriness in the air. It was a delicious eeriness however, a cozy one that made me curious.
We sat down at the picturesque table, and I noticed that vibrant drapes that didn’t take me just decades back, but centuries. The décor really looks like the Baroque Era in Europe got in a fight with 1920s America, but it works together harmoniously. I found myself noting ideas for my own writing room. It was yummy.
Still, I felt spooky tonight…maybe because it was later than usual, or maybe because of the cool rain. I didn’t know.
I asked the waiter, “tell me, is there a history to this building?”
“Ohhh yes,” replied the waiter, “it’s said to be haunted. During the Spanish Flu epidemic (in which Asheville lost 25% of the adult population) it was a furniture store that had its basement made into the mortuary when the hospital ran out of room.”
“Yum,” I responded.
I don’t personally believe in ghosts, but now I had a story. Suddenly the spirits in the basement gave this place a heartbeat. The final puzzle piece had come for me: the history. That’s the bone marrow of the things I love. I recommend Vincenzo’s to anyone. It is a great place to eat, drink, socialize, hear music, wear a cocktail dress for sport, and soak in the deliciousness of Asheville at its finest. It’s history, mystery, romance, and wine. It’s the perfect date spot, or place to sit mysteriously in fedora by yourself. Just eat there. Do it as a group, a couple, or individual, but however you do it, give yourself to it completely and become yummy alongside of it.
Photo above: My girlfriends and I standing in front of the mood-lit table and old-fashioned windows just before I ordered the 007-Bombay with a twist. Shaken, not stirred of course.