My tumbler of pinot. Image: Amy Loeffler

Patience is the virtue featured on the menu at the Armstrong’s most recent adventures in restaurateur-dom. It’s a reference to the necessity to wait for good food that is slow- made and farm-fresh. But I would add humility to the list of admirable qualities that are on display at Virtue as well.

When I talked to Cathal Armstrong about his penchant for using his trusty iPad in the kitchen last year, conversation wandered to the yet-to-be completed project that is now Virtue Feed and Grain.  As a native Alexandrian I told him that while I lamented the demise of the once-upon-a-time indie record store that would become Virtue’s space, it was heartening to know that we wouldn’t have to stomach a corporate, faceless chain restaurant forever inhabiting the former Olson’s skin. But instead of taking credit for rescuing the previous haunt for punky, gothy, nerd, and yes, even normal, NoVa teens, Armstrong expressed dismay and humbly answered, “It’s sad when those places go away,” he said.

Now the space where connoisseurs of local indie rock gathered is again a hot spot for locals, and local fare.

It was difficult not to make mental notes of where the cash register was (now the hostess stand), and the magazine rack where I used to buy NME, or whatever British music rag I thought was the gospel at the time. Where I used to rummage for Dead Kennedys records and ask staff about auditory esoterica (ok, I was not cool enough to rummage for DK vinyl; admittedly I was rummaging for New Order and The Cure), is now the kitchen. Pretty appropriate that the very spot that was the haven for those with discerning musical taste is now the spot where chefs make tasty fare.

Farm-house chicken at Virtue Feed and Grain. Image: Amy Loeffler

The offerings at Virtue are comprised of traditional, and also self-described “weird” entrees (weird=organ meat-based dishes from Ireland). When I visited I opted for the farm-house chicken and chips. Nothing fancy, but satisfying on a fall day. The chicken itself was swaddled in a sauce of chicken stock, mirepoix, and a splash of veal stock that gave the otherwise sheer sauce a bit of depth and heft. Big fries, not quite steak size, were exactly the right implement for soaking up any excess liquid I could not slurp off the meat or the bones.

I wasn’t quite sure about the tumbler that my pinot noir came in, however. At first I thought it was trying too hard to be rustic. As I ate, though, it kind of reminded me of the day after a party when there aren’t any more clean glasses, so you end up drinking whatever wine is leftover in a coffee mug or a preserve jar. Another virtue perhaps? The ability to laugh at yourself in your jammies while drinking out of a kiddie mug?

Taylor Swift, and Cathal and Meshelle Armstrong, don’t take themselves too seriously. Video: Youtube

Cathal and Meshelle don’t take themselves too seriously either, and I would venture to say that if most of the menu copy isn’t written by the missus, she’s had a hand in it; a constant elbow in the ribs of the overuse of the farm-to-table terminology, but still managing to maintain a reverence for the product.

Patience, humility, and the ability to laugh at yourself, are all virtues to practice often. I’m glad that the Armstrong’s, along with Mr. Thrasher, are practicing virtuists.

But first, let’s get something straight.

The name of the band, Bonde do Role, is not pronounced /bond do roll/. In the great and not-celebrated-enough-language of Portuguese it sounds like /bahnjee doo ho-lay/. A bonde in Portuguese is a bus or streetcar, and role, is well, simply put a party. And if this bus-cum-mobile-celebration-factory stops in your town, you should see it.

Image: Domino Records

Seriously, when I saw them at the Local 506 in Chapel Hill I had the most enjoyable time writhing around, waving my arms and jumping up and down to their oft-commented raunchy lyrics.

I had my doubts, though, that the legacy left by Marina Rabitska would hold up to my expectations. In fact, even though I am a huge fan of this band, my expectations were pretty low. It’s no secret in several of her interviews that Rabitska complained of just being plain burnt out, and who knows what nutrient-deprived state she was in by the time she finally called it quits. And no wonder. This band is aural junk food and it can’t be easy to maintain that sugar-sex high night after night. Either founding members Pedro D’eyrot and Rodrigo Gorky made an unconsciously genius decision to deliberately fill Marina’s gap with two women (adorable Ana Bernadino and the Scarlett Johannesque Laura Taylor), or this move was a calculated and well thought out strategy to balance the band both gender and number wise.

It’s clear to me from the clip below, however, even with the Marina going in and out of focus like a hipster apparition, that she really made the band what it was.

Still, the show at Local 506  was as close to the quintessential final scene of a John Hughes movie as you could get. You know, when the unexpected house party that the quietly hip kid from school hosts when his parents are out of town and (miraculously) creates that one night everyone gets along and doesn’t care how silly, sexy or stupid they are? (In fact silliness is encouraged at BDR shows, as is evidenced by the fans that randomly jumped on stage at the show I attended.)

The truth is though that most people either love BDR, or really find them annoyingly tacky like my Brazilian friend, Alex. But if you love this band you owe it to yourself to see them. I couldn’t stop dancing for, like, two days after the show. In fact I am still humming the songs in my head.

And as far as buses go, I don’t think it’s a mistake that the multi-seater in the Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test bore the colors of the Brazilian flag: yellow and green. That was a party bus, too.

Video: You Tube

Happy fall!

–Amy

Photo: roguecipher.wordpress.com