Anachronistic Cowgirl

My new Blackberry smells like cigarette smoke, because I smoked three cigarettes tonight. I fear I am too sleepy (but admirably dedicated to updating my four loyal readers, right?) to be too coy with my subject line tonight, so I'll cut straight to the chase. My dinner tonight--with good friend and avid reader Andy--at the Cowboy Cafe in Arlington made me realize that dining out can force one to confront both space and time: namely, is it ok to consider myself a modern diner while still enjoying a passe cigarette (or three), and more broadly, is innovation/renovation necessarily improvement? In between puffs of cigarettes over the course of our dinner, my Blackberry would silently clamor for my attention, blinking red anytime I received a phone call, email, text message, or obscure update to my Facebook profile. Electronic distraction simply is not relaxing while smoking a cigarette, the most non-essential food event I really could partake in, and which ultimately is to facilitate relaxation. However, I pine for this new technology at the same time I want to indulge in the dying and maligned practice of smoking.

I value highly the Cowboy Cafe's insistence on still allowing smoking--a dive bar isn't a dive bar without poor ventilation and smoke clouds--but I also have to admit that while it's indulging old-school bar patrons by permitting smoking throughout the restaurant, it's trying to abandon its anachronism, by updating and shedding its historic charm for modernity. The Cowboy Cafe is one of the few bars I've visited in the DC area where an aging frat boy, lonely retiree, deer hunter, aspiring musician, or quirky young professional would all feel at home. However, as Andy and I noted while dining in the renovated "annex" of the Cowboy Cafe, small "improvements"--including new wood floors, brighter lighting, a fake fireplace, and menu items like homemade kielbasa sausage--burnish the repuation of a bar/restaurant that is appealing because its NOT sophisticated and hasn't adapted to the times.

But before I write into the next millennium, what did we eat already? First, I ordered an Abita Restoration Ale. Abita beer, brewed just outside of New Orleans, is the beer that made me like beer. One day, while in New Orleans to watch my proud football team lose another national championship (still bitter), I tried Abita beer and magically liked beer. I remember it fondly, as one nostalgically recalls a first kiss or first car. The Cowboy Cafe has two kinds of Abita beer on tap, and for that, I wish them a fruitful future.

So I had three of those. For dinner, Andy got the Beef Brisket Reuben, which was delicious. Apparently his pickle was also quite tasty, but time passed too fast before I was able to steal a bite.


My dinner was fantastic too. I will even add that this may the first time during my stay in DC I have actively sought out BBQ, and not out of desperation. I ordered BBQ brisket, collard greens, baked beans, and Texas Toast. The brisket was well-flavored (although there wasn't enough BBQ sauce, the meat was fatty, and it was sliced too thick), the beans were tasty (although a bit watery and not nearly sugary enough, but that's my own KC bias), and the Texas Toast could have been called overly-buttered-but-damn-good-toasted-foccacia, because that toast would get laughed out of even Plano. But the collard greens melted in my mouth.

The I ordered dessert, and Andy was kind enought to indulge in helping me. We got Butterfinger bread pudding, and it was pretty amazing. The consistency was most delightful: it had a consistency slightly more solid than marshmellow fluff, and was bready and Butterfingery. Plus, it had the most poofy whipped cream, a succulent strawberry, and drizzled chocolate and caramel sauces: a perfect combination in any century.

Andy, one second after he raised an eyebrow about how surprisingly good the dessert was.

After dessert, we retreated to the main bar, full of smoke clouds, poor lighting, girls with big lower-back tattoos, and tables of men who can smoke cigarettes more consistently than I. We enjoyed really stellar conversation about relationships, the working world, running, smoking (ironic paired together), and creative ventures. Despite the endless effects the ebb and flow of time brings, it's nice to know that good conversation can be constant, regardless of the day's circumstances.