Wining and dining

I knew the date was going to be a bad one almost as soon as we were seated at the restaurant. He was the nephew of a coworker who spoke highly of him. I took some convincing (not a fan of blind dates) but after some negotiation, the date was set up. We first met in person when he showed up at my workplace for the date. My coworkers gawked and muttered approvingly. He was a pleasant and fairly attractive man but I wasn't wowed by my first impression. I asked a few questions about his background, his likes and dislikes, and quickly realized that his conversational skills were somewhat limited unless he was speaking about himself. During the cab ride to the restaurant he dominated the conversation, enthusiastically telling me about a wine tasting class he had just taken. The restaurant had been recommended by his teacher because of their extensive wine selection. Despite the mostly one-sided conversation I was intrigued and looking forward to a nice evening.

The restaurant was quite nice, not overly fancy, but clean, and emanating the most delicious food smells . From the outside it looked welcoming - brick walls with sweet scented flowering plants growing, the soft amber light through the windows offering a European flair more family friendly than romantic, which was a relief. We walked through the exterior door. The interior was softly lit. It was still quite light and bright outside and the contrast took me by surprise. I stopped to allow my eyes to adjust. He didn't. The collision knocked me off balance and I stumbled down a small step and bumped into a wall. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back. "Clumsy, aren't you?" he whispered. I started to protest but thought the better and let it go. We were shown to a table. Cloth tablecloth, cloth napkins. Excellent. For a moment things were looking up.

The waiter brought menus and a wine list which was roughly the size of a phone book. The “uh-oh” moment. For what seemed like an eternity, I heard more about the weather in Europe over the last few decades than I care to recall. He reveled in minute details of how it affected the grapes, each variety, every region. I smiled and nodded, and tried in vain to change his monologue into a conversation. It was a relief when the waiter arrived to take our order. After taking our food order the waiter asked what we’d like to drink. “I’d like a glass of merlot” I said, and was immediately overruled. “No, no, no. Please allow ME to order the wine.” Feeling a bit rude (after all he had just taken a wine-tasting class), as well as a bit offended at being publicly chided, I acquiesced. For several minutes he quizzed the waiter about various and sundry details of their wines before finally making a selection. He sipped the sample and swished it around his mouth while contorting his face into a myriad of unidentifiable expressions. All I could think was how much his sloshing and swirling resembled Grandma's old Maytag washer. It took all my resolve to suppress the laughter. The food smells promised delights to come and I was ready to experience them.

The food was as delicious as I expected, but the wine wasn’t. I must have winced when I tasted it because the waiter quickly appeared and asked if everything was all right. Before I could say anything my date declared “this wine has been badly de-corked.” The waiter politely protested and bad date insisted. It escalated. Eyes were upon us. There was nothing I could do except sit back and watch as my date became the floor show. The bad date demanded to speak to the Maitre'd who appeared so suddenly he must have already been en route to the ruckus. “Is there a problem?” “This wine is badly de-corked” “I’m sorry sir, but it can’t be.” Bad date was livid. “Do you mean to tell me that with all the wine you serve here, not one single bottle has ever been improperly de-corked?”. “Of course, it has happened ..." bad date flashed a momentary satisfied smile which instantly disappeared when the Maitre'd finished his sentence, "... but not in this case.” Bad date was red-faced, sputtering, spraying flecks of spittle as he protested. “How can you be so sure?” “Because the wine you selected has a screw on cap, sir.” I bit my lip to avoid laughing out loud. The other diners did not. Bad date was nearly catatonic. The waiter asked “Would you like the merlot now, madam?” I nodded. Not a great date, definitely not a “dream date” but highly entertaining, the food was delicious and the merlot was lovely and complemented the food nicely.