Dolce Vita Wine Bar

Great food, great ambiance and environment, but poor service last night. Waiter rarely checked on us, forgot to bring us a beer we ordered, so we ended up just asking for the check. I'll still come back, but was disappointed last night.

On one of these gorgeous late-winter / early-spring days Charlotte has been enjoying recently, I found myself wandering aimlessly around the neighborhood. Typically, my evenings take me where I'm supposed to be without my having to plan for any cause or direction. I kinda just let the dull rumble of scrolling traffic and chilled breeze of dusklit air guide me... and, inexorably, to Dolce Vita I was drawn.
Dolce's "my place", in regards to Charlotte watering holes. It was the first bar I got comfortable in when I moved here. It's the place my friends and I always default to when we don't know where else to go. It's casually cozy, it's subtly artsy, it's predictably fabulous... and it seems no matter what day or time or how empty or how full, there's always this one tattered chair there waiting for me.
Around 7pm, on this particular Tuesday night, there was no one there. No one but me. I don't typically drink alone (well, that's not true... I don't typically drink alone in a public place), but Dolce is as much my living room as any other place so it didn't even cross my mind.
I strolled in and hunkered down in the middle of the bar, right in front of the primary flat-screen, which tends to run Animal Planet programming about 90% of the time. I watched a promo for the upcoming episode of River Monsters. It just made sense.
In due haste, Evan came from the back room behind the bar. He's a handsome bastard; well built with a strong voice. The sorta guy you want to jealously dislike the moment you see him, but then can't help but bro-out with once you're three sentences in. He's a charmer. I ordered a gin n tonic; there wasn't much debate. Evan absconded to fetch a bottle of gin from the store room.
Dolce used to be all wine, with some beer. Then the beer offerings swelled. Later, and not at all long ago, they introduced liquor drinks... and things went from here (hand held at neck height) to here (hand extended high above head). It's as if they did it all just for me...
I have all these marked moments in my Dolce memory, like the notches of a child's growth against his bedroom doorframe... First it was swilling half-priced reds and laughing with my cronies on the oversized ratty sofa in the back corner. Then it was soulful conversations by the window over glasses of Riesling and pints of oatmeal stouts. On holiday nights it's piggy-back rides and jello shots... or New Year's kisses and tiny squints in small light that capture every flutter of that one girl's batted lashes. Its unfinished cement is a gently rolling ocean beneath my drunken feet. Its flat-barrel tables and thrift store sofa-chairs are my boats and my buoys. Its red walls and spotted ceilings are my searing horizon. When I'm gone, I get found here. When I wanna be deep in the drink, this is where I do it. All the faces are familiar and beautiful. And there's never a story told that you've already heard before.
Evan brought me my gin and we started up a chat. He talked to me about the new liquor offerings and what he was trying out for the menu. He spoke to me, enthusiastically, about this roasted beet puree drink he had concocted. I was more than intrigued. "Would it put you out to make one of those right now?" I asked. "I think have enough for just one more," he replied. Sometimes it just all works out.
What Evan presented me wasn't a drink so much as it was a journey. Served tall and cold in a wine glass, garnished fancily and fitted to the brim. Roasted beets, blended, with gin, lemon, zest of lemon, and ginger beer on top. At first you get the beets... rich and earthy and simply sweet - but not too sweet - and underneath that you feel the gin, warming your throat from within the cold slush as it swallows down. Then, after you gulp, the ginger rises up through your nose and tickles out like a breathless exhale. My eyebrows raised high. "Wow..." I stammered. "That was quite a process... I just took a trip."
Evan nodded. "Yeah, I like to do that double-hit. You get one thing up front, and then something else after."
I smiled. "Yup."
He started mashing some apples into a bowl. "I got these fresh apples at the market. I'm trying to do something with their juice." He wiped his hands and moved toward me down the bar. "And I got this vanilla-infused honey from a vendor earlier. Wanna try?" I sampled it... it blew my mind.
A friend called me for dinner, so I had to cut away. As we ate, I spoke to them of the beet drink and the journey it had taken me on. I managed to convince my crew to swing back by for one quick round after we finished our meal.
By 9pm, Dolce was full up with life and light and laughter. Evan was behind the bar, shaker in hands, eyes wide, smiling tall as he broke words and commanded his station. I sidled up. "Figure out that apple drink?" I asked.
"That's what I'm making right now."
"Bring us three when you get a chance."
One round turned into two, three, five... and I sank deep into a spectacular evening.

So before I moved to the mountains I decided to try this place one more time....without the crazy X......and it was a lot more fun.

I continue to find the staff on the ball here and selection continues to change.

It was great to try this place one more time.......without the drama of basket droppers.