Recent raves The most recent restaurants to receive three or more stars from restaurant reviewer Dana Craig The Black Sheep 901 W. Marshall St.

Back when it was on Lombardy Street, nestled between timeworn row houses and intricate mazes of alleyways, Bogart’s easily conjured up the mystery and moodiness its namesake actor, Humphrey, exuded on screen.  Back then, I went to Bogart’s to grab a booth in its dark and smoky back room, sip on a few pints and take in the sounds of whatever band was playing.

Italian restaurants—every neighborhood has a plethora of carbon-copy iterations, and every neighbor has a favorite.  This is pretty much the case across town, so how does one place become someone’s favorite over another? No shock that it’s usually based on proximity.  For example, I can easily name two spots downtown that many suburbanites would consider some of the best Italian restaurants around. However, “best” doesn’t mean much when the dinner hour is hot on our heels. Everyone needs his or her own special place within a comfortable radius from home.

Doraldo’s Rating:  Where: 13253 Rittenhouse Road (The Village at Swift Creek)

As daily highs begin to tickle the lower end of the 70s and cars of all hues take on Mountain Dew-colored sheens, my annual hunt for Richmond’s outdoor-dining venues begins. 

If you’ve read this column before, you may have noticed I really enjoy geeking out over culinary twists, dashes of creativity or unexpected drizzles of something different. I can’t help it. That’s my M.O. 

Its tagline is “East Meets West. They Party.“ But after two less-than-stellar visits to Kona Grill in Short Pump’s West Broad Village, I’m having problems finding exactly where (or when) this party is. 

Fine, I’ll say it. I like taking pictures of my food. And I don’t feel ashamed admitting it.  I’d much rather fill my iPhoto library with visual documentation of all the wonderful meals I’ve consumed rather than not-as-appetizing photos of, say, family gatherings or friends’ wedding receptions.

Wearing shorts and flip-flops in mid-March while sitting outside with my laptop, I couldn’t be in a better place in which to wax poetic on Papa Ningo. 

Where are you going for dinner tonight?“ a co-worker asked. “My Restaurant,“ I replied. [Insert expected blank stare here.]  “No, no, not my restaurant, My Restaurant,“ I said, trying to clarify things. “It used to be Andre’s Grille, but new management changed the name last October.“

I like wine. He likes beer. I like sampling my way through an array of small plates. He likes sticking to one entrée, preferably without my fork making its way
over for a taste.

If you’ve never heard of Piccola Italy, Pronto Ristorante, Mary Angela’s or Maldini’s, you’re clearly living under a rock. Well, a rock or an Olive Garden.  Like most cities, Richmond isn’t lacking in casual Italian restaurants, but there are only a few names that I equate with good casual Italian, one of those being Lo Presti.

I was shocked when Dale and Aline Reitzer closed Acacia’s original location after a nearly 10-year run of greatness in one of Carytown’s most unusual dining locales. 

As far as notoriety in the world of seafood restaurants goes, Skilligalee doesn’t make many waves outside the realm of having a name I can’t pronounce correctly on a consistent basis. 

You would have thought I was raised in a diner. Anytime my father was left in charge of dinner, we had breakfast or meatloaf. Maybe that’s why I get the occasional, uncontrollable urge for omelets and blocklike meat when the dinner hour nears.