Never mind the fact that I have three essays due tomorrow, only one of which is finished, or the rather more pertinent fact that I have forty ninth-graders dreading not one but TWO test scores that I’ve not handed back yet.
No, our old pal James Lileks had to include something cute about his daughter and Italian food, and I’m off.
One of the things I miss most about my favorite cities—besides the grand department stores and pretty movie palaces—is the wealth of great restaurants that once called Baltimore and Richmond home. Ask anyone who visited Baltimore between 1935 and 1999, and Haussner’s will probably be involved in the equation somewhere. Visitors to Richmond will most likely recall one of the grand hotels—and there were so many! It might have been the staid Hotel Richmond or the garrulous Murphy’s that they recall, or the elegant but prosaic John Marshall—but the lucky few will remember the “Jeff”, the gigantic, over-the-top emblem of both Southern hospitality and fin-de-siecle magnificence, the Hotel Jefferson.
The “Jeff” is still around, of course, notwithstanding its years of ‘70s darkness. Would that, like the Hotel, we could all just sleep through the 1970s and pretend that they’d never happened! And, would that we could all spend the late ‘80s as I did at the Hotel, with plentiful gin and bourbon and always a careful eye to those traversing the world-famous Grand Staircase.
It is not, however, of the Jeff that I wish to speak now, nor of the abundant new—and tasty, but inelegant—restaurants that Richmond now boasts.
One of the old guard stands out in my memory because it was so good to me when I lived in that sainted city, and because it has held out against all odds to earn a spot in culinary and congeniality circles.
When in Richmond, dine—I beg you, dine—at Julian’s.
Julian’s is of the old school, and that’s saying something. When Baltimore had “wop” restaurants by the dozens, Richmond had precisely one, and it was Julian’s. Back in those days the place was way down in the financial district—yes, Richmond’s own little skyscraper canyon around 10th and Main. It must have been good, even back then, because they got up the silver to move uptown, out to Broad street right across from the big new Broad Street Station, right next to the elegant Capitol Theatre and the fashionable Hotel William Byrd.
Fashion comes and goes, but good food remains the same. The lovely old Hotel Byrd faded and died but for its barbershop, where I still have my tonsillory rectitude upon visits to the Holy City. The pretty Capitol, home of the South’s first talkie, was torn down eight years ago. Julian’s moved a block west—but it lives on. It lives on in an old bank building, but oh boy—it’s just as good as ever.
The fashion these days in Italian food is something called “Northern Italian”, which bears a lot of resemblance to California and little to Italy. I am fully aware of this because my Italian family is FROM Northern Italy—Bergamo, to be precise, the hometown of Verdi—and listen, we’ve never heard of ANY of this crap they’re pawning off as Northern Italian.
Julian’s serves a kind of food that will never be called the Very Latest Thing, but is it ever good! And even if their food should ever lack a bit of luster, they get my vote for hospitality on two counts:
First, their kid’s menu is written in Italo-Kidspeak. You can actually order Pasghetti.
Second, one night about twelve years ago I showed up completely bombed and despairing over a lost amour. My waitress showed up, told me what I wanted to eat, and said “He’s not worth it. Eat your lasagne.” And she brought me a Manhattan—on the house.
If the Tobacco Company ever closes, a slice of the 1970s in Richmond will be gone forever. If Julian’s ever closes—and the saints forbid that it does—a slice of Richmond herself will be gone forever.
No, our old pal James Lileks had to include something cute about his daughter and Italian food, and I’m off.
One of the things I miss most about my favorite cities—besides the grand department stores and pretty movie palaces—is the wealth of great restaurants that once called Baltimore and Richmond home. Ask anyone who visited Baltimore between 1935 and 1999, and Haussner’s will probably be involved in the equation somewhere. Visitors to Richmond will most likely recall one of the grand hotels—and there were so many! It might have been the staid Hotel Richmond or the garrulous Murphy’s that they recall, or the elegant but prosaic John Marshall—but the lucky few will remember the “Jeff”, the gigantic, over-the-top emblem of both Southern hospitality and fin-de-siecle magnificence, the Hotel Jefferson.
The “Jeff” is still around, of course, notwithstanding its years of ‘70s darkness. Would that, like the Hotel, we could all just sleep through the 1970s and pretend that they’d never happened! And, would that we could all spend the late ‘80s as I did at the Hotel, with plentiful gin and bourbon and always a careful eye to those traversing the world-famous Grand Staircase.
It is not, however, of the Jeff that I wish to speak now, nor of the abundant new—and tasty, but inelegant—restaurants that Richmond now boasts.
One of the old guard stands out in my memory because it was so good to me when I lived in that sainted city, and because it has held out against all odds to earn a spot in culinary and congeniality circles.
When in Richmond, dine—I beg you, dine—at Julian’s.
Julian’s is of the old school, and that’s saying something. When Baltimore had “wop” restaurants by the dozens, Richmond had precisely one, and it was Julian’s. Back in those days the place was way down in the financial district—yes, Richmond’s own little skyscraper canyon around 10th and Main. It must have been good, even back then, because they got up the silver to move uptown, out to Broad street right across from the big new Broad Street Station, right next to the elegant Capitol Theatre and the fashionable Hotel William Byrd.
Fashion comes and goes, but good food remains the same. The lovely old Hotel Byrd faded and died but for its barbershop, where I still have my tonsillory rectitude upon visits to the Holy City. The pretty Capitol, home of the South’s first talkie, was torn down eight years ago. Julian’s moved a block west—but it lives on. It lives on in an old bank building, but oh boy—it’s just as good as ever.
The fashion these days in Italian food is something called “Northern Italian”, which bears a lot of resemblance to California and little to Italy. I am fully aware of this because my Italian family is FROM Northern Italy—Bergamo, to be precise, the hometown of Verdi—and listen, we’ve never heard of ANY of this crap they’re pawning off as Northern Italian.
Julian’s serves a kind of food that will never be called the Very Latest Thing, but is it ever good! And even if their food should ever lack a bit of luster, they get my vote for hospitality on two counts:
First, their kid’s menu is written in Italo-Kidspeak. You can actually order Pasghetti.
Second, one night about twelve years ago I showed up completely bombed and despairing over a lost amour. My waitress showed up, told me what I wanted to eat, and said “He’s not worth it. Eat your lasagne.” And she brought me a Manhattan—on the house.
If the Tobacco Company ever closes, a slice of the 1970s in Richmond will be gone forever. If Julian’s ever closes—and the saints forbid that it does—a slice of Richmond herself will be gone forever.
posted by Daniel | 12:26 AM
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