Wythe Notes

Over the course of the last 42 years, Anne and I have had some pretty serendipitous times involving food and drink. As a young newlywed couple in 1969, we got lost toodling around and stumbled upon a tiny, remote village in Germany’s Black Forest. We later discovered we were the first outsiders to visit the little hamlet since the end of WWII. The relative poverty of the village was evident from the mud streets and modest houses, but there were two gasthauses (pubs), one Catholic and one Protestant. I’ll leave the implications of that for another time. Since Anne was raised Catholic, that’s the one we chose.  During the 4 hours or so we spent there, we had some good basic German food and excellent beer. Most of the village, which included the mayor, their leading citizen who had won the Bronze Medal on the 1952 German Olympic Shooting Team, and the Protestants, stopped buy to say hello. When we left, the proprietor refused payment.

Emeril Lagasse before he was EMERIL! BAM! sat with us after preparing one of the five best meals I’ve ever eaten. We drank a little wine and talked about the vagaries of a chef’s life. Another night we sat sipping beer in the darkened bar at the Chester Hotel in New Jersey while the flugelhorn and lead trumpet player for the Benny Goodman Orchestra gave us a private after-hours  concert. Following a party for Congressman Charlie Wilson (Charlie Wilson’s War) at a club in Georgetown, The Kingston Trio tried to convince us, well mostly Anne, to go to New York with them.

Our dinner Wednesday night at Chef Michael Gucciardo’s new restaurant in Floyd, Mickey G’s Bistro and Pizzeria, now joins our list of memories. Prior to Wednesday, I had never met Michael, but I knew him by reputation. My aunt and uncle, Hilda and Buck Melton who live Fayetteville, N.C., still talk about the meal they had years ago when he was the chef at the Pine Tavern. Michael is the real deal: a trained chef with over three decades of experience in the restaurant business.

Michael and son, Luca

We had been warned to get there early if we wanted a table in the small, 35-seat dining room, so we got there at 4:15 Wednesday afternoon. A few minutes later we were joined by our friend Doug Thompson, and sure enough, the place was full by 4:45. Our charming and very efficient server, Nicolas, delivered our drink order within minutes of seating, and the three of us chatted while we awaited the arrival of Doug’s wife Amy. Looking around, I saw people eating, laughing, greeting friends, standing and chatting while they waited for tables or takeout orders, so I took the opportunity to stroll around and take a few pictures.

As you can see, the restaurant contained a pretty good cross section of Floydians. Around 5 p.m., Amy called to say she was running late, so we ordered some garlic knots to snack on and placed our dinner orders. Shortly after the delicious little garlicky morsels of herbaceous pizza dough, which we topped with freshly grated Parmesan, were delivered hot from the oven, the fun began.

Earlier I had introduced myself to Chef Michael, and both he and Nicolas remembered my name from a comment I left on BlueRidgeMuse a couple of weeks ago. Doug has known Michael for years and is a huge fan of his food. There was a lot of give and take from our table as Michael came out of the kitchen occasionally to greet customers and inquire after their meals. Nicolas and I had established a pretty good rapport and joked with each other, one pro to another, as he went about his duties.

Around 5:15 p.m., Nicolas sheepishly approached our table to tell us that the kitchen would be unable to prepare the rest of our meal because they had run out of propane. He said, “I wanted to inform you first because I knew you’d be the most understanding, and I need to practice what I have to tell the rest of our guests.”

After a few moments of initial disappointment, Anne and I shrugged at each other and decided to go with the flow. Doug had to leave to cover the local high school basketball game for the Floyd Press, but as he went out the door, Amy came in and took his place at the table.  Amy is one of the more adventurous people we know, so she was pretty nonplussed when we explained the situation.

The restaurant slowly emptied out as the lucky people who had received their food finished and left, and most of the people arriving elected to come back another time.We decided to order from the cold side of the menu and devoured a Caesar Salad and cold antipasto when they arrived. Michael sent out some pizza slices and focaccia warmed by residual heat in the pizza oven. We finished up with espresso and a couple of house-made desserts.

What made this evening so special was the warmth and conviviality we experienced from Chef Michael and his staff under some very trying conditions. I was struck, and I must admit envious, at how quickly Floyd has embraced this restaurant and how quickly it has become THE gathering place in town for both locals and visitors alike.Where else could I have a discussion with a member of the infamous Pagan MC about the difficulties of dealing with an aging parent? Amy was floored, but not exactly surprised, when she discovered the lady at the next table turned out to be from her hometown of Belleview, Il. Her best friend was Amy’s first cousin, and she was in the same class as Amy’s best friend. They knew nothing about each other until that night. By the time we were ready to leave, an emergency propane delivery had been made, and the restaurant started to fill up again. As we went out the door, Michael had the kitchen ready to turn and burn, and folks were buzzing with anticipation.

My review of the food we did have? Michael makes a kick-ass Caesar Salad. His pizza and foccacia  are hands down the best I’ve had in Southwest Virginia. The picture of the cold antipasto speaks for itself. We can hardly wait for the weather to clear, so we can go back for a proper meal. I urge those of you who can to get to Mickey G’s before the weather warms. Otherwise, you’re going to have to pack a lunch just to have lunch.

Buon Appetito!

We’ve been in Columbia, MD for the last week or so making arrangements for the care of Anne’s ailing mother. It doesn’t take long to remember why we moved to Wythe County in the first place. The DC metropolitan area is maddening enough to make a Baptist preacher take up drinkin’ and cussin’. Thank goodness we’re headed home later today. I did have one really great day though.  Sunday I went with the Heir Apparent and his dad to the model train show at the Dulles Convention Center. I’m here to tell you it was fun with a capital F!

Billed as the “World’s Greatest Hobby,” model trains have changed a great deal since I was a kid. Some of the layouts were almost unbelievable. In addition to the trains, there were working miniature carnivals replete with lighted carousels, roller coasters, and bumper cars. There were tableaux of European villages, turn of the century mountain towns, and New York City in the 1940s. One of the largest displays had dozens of trains circling the tracks (one train contained an aquarium car with live goldfish.) There were aficionados of all make and manner dressed as engineers, conductors, and porters.

Ultimately, this was a family day. Grandparents, parents and children of all ages coming together to enjoy what just might be the world’s greatest hobby.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been as entertained by winter as I care to be. I’m thinking of changing Chestnut Ridge’s name to Par Mountain because right now, dern near everything around here is below par.

Our humble little cottage is semi-ice bound because I didn’t get the snow guards installed on our nifty tin roof before the pre-Christmas snow storm hit. That led to 3 1/2 feet of snow that slid from the roof stacked against the back of the house and the front porch, which turned into a solid block of ice while we were away for the holidays.  That’s a round about way of saying we haven’t been able to get out the back door since December 18 . That’s not a ski run in the picture above, it’s the front steps.

Speaking of the holidays, we spent some of the time with our son-in-law Jon and the Heir Apparent, which included a trip to the National Aquarium in Baltimore. If you’ve never been, I highly recommend it.  Cost of admission; $20 per ticket. Lunch: around $40. Watching the excitement and delight of a 6-year-old grandson: Priceless.

P.S. We found Nemo!

I’d like to thank all the people Anne and I have heard from in the past ten months for their love and support. Considering everything we’ve been through, to say that this has been an awful year gives new meaning to the word “understatement”. We will never get over the loss of our beloved Beth. In October,  Anne lost her job 2 1/2 years before retirement. A week later, we had to have Tasha, our 14-year-old Keeshond  put to sleep. At times we felt like we were trapped inside a really bad movie and couldn’t get out. There were days when it was a major effort just to get out of bed. But we did, and continue to do so….and we’re doing better. So to all the folks who have urged me to start blogging again, thanks for hanging in there.