Reservation for Two at the Bar

I knew that Condaleeza Rice was in town tonight, which had the potential to interfere with my dining plans and I wasn't having any of it.

A friend and I had planned to meet at Bonvenu at 6:15 and this afternoon it occurred to me that restaurants were going to be slammed early tonight because of the Forum.

What to do, what to do?

To me, the simple solution was to call Bonvenu and ask for a reservation for two at the bar for 6:15.

The woman who answered the phone sounded a bit perplexed since they'd never taken a bar reservation before, but I assured her it was done in other cities.

Since it would be before the official dinner rush, she agreed.

When we arrived, the hostess said several couples had tried to cop our stools and looked disgruntled when told they were reserved.

Sorry about your bad luck, folks, but it pays to plan ahead.

Since this was our first time hanging out together, we started slowly with drinks; I had Vino Verde and he had a martini (which led to me belatedly learning the term "bruised" as it applies to one).

He's a regular blog reader so he took some time to explain how resentful he feels that I don't blog ahead of time about what I'm going to do, the better to alert people like him who can't keep up with the goings-on but want to.

It's not often that a guy wants you to tell him what to do, and it's not like I'm any sort of expert anyway.

We ordered with sharing in mind, the better to taste around the menu; we got the special of escargots in puff pastry, a mixed green salad with blood oranges, Manhattan clam salad and beggars' purses.

The clam salad with caramelized onions was a standout, with its simple but unusual pairing of the two stars of the dish.

As for the special of escargots, they were excellent. We were both expecting them to be surrounded by pastry, but in fact they were sitting atop a small ring of it.

All except one, which had escaped its pastry ring.

I commented to our charming bartender Paul (whom I know from previous conversation has a classic rock bent) that we had a rebel snail.

"Yea, but that'll turn out to be the tastiest one, " he assured me. "The rebels are always the most interesting ones."

At this point, I think we were talking about escargots, but I'm not entirely certain.

During a visit to the subterranean bathroom, one of the owners put her hand on my shoulder and asked if I was the one who had reserved the bar seats.

Affirming that, she complimented my smarts in doing so.

I thanked her for her wisdom in accepting the reservation; I can only hope it's the beginning of a trend.

In the past, they've offered to do it for me at Bistro 27 if I call ahead, so maybe there is a growing acknowledgement for those who prefer eating barside to tableside.

Bonvenu continued to fill up and it got noisy to the point that my friend and I were practically shouting to share stories with each other.

After a few hours of that, we headed down Cary Street to Bin 22 for a glass of after-dinner wine, where the music was stellar (Spoon, Cat Power, Neko Case) and the noise level far more conducive to conversation.

He's an interesting guy whom I met through his work in a local restaurant's kitchen, so he knows all the characters and had loads of good restaurant stories.

But it was talking about the quantum changes in our lifetime that really got us going; I've definitely found another great conversationalist, even if he did have to check in with his wife at 10 p.m. (which was actually kind of charming).

Leaving after our waitress gave us the hint that they were closing, he turned to me and said, "You win."

It seems that every time I went to the bathroom, he'd tried to find a way to engage her in conversation, never getting more than the briefest response.

But toward the end, I'd commented on her iPod's music, which led us to talk of shows we'd both seen and a burst of chatter from her.

"I tried every way to get her to talk, but you got her by talking music," he marveled.

Yea, I do that a lot.