Borrowing a Husband at Julep

You know how some childless people say they love interacting with other people's kids because they know they can hand them back? Does the same basic principle hold when I share a meal with someone else's husband? I ask because I have several married friends, all in satisfying relationships, with whom I greatly enjoy hanging out, begging the question would I enjoy them any less if they were single?

Tonight's dinner companion was a perfect example: smart, funny, food savvy, observant and a great conversationalist. We met at Julep where he and the valet watched me park, critiquing all the while. I must have done alright, though, because the valet asked if I was trying to put him out of a job (hmm, possible new career path?).

We arrived sans reservation to a fully reserved restaurant (even well-heeled prom couples) and had to wait a bit for two bar stools to open up. The bartender had called in sick (too much Strawberry Hill, if you know what I'm sayin') so one of the servers was doing double duty, making what seemed to be an endless stream of mint juleps while waiting on a full bar. We assured him we were in no hurry, which he seemed to appreciate.

My friend got his usual bruised martini and I opted for the Domaine du Pagot Sauvignon Blanc, a mid-palate delight without a lot of mineral taste. Friend and I had just about finalized our food choices when we were told that the mussels and calamari had not been up to the chef's standards so were unavailable tonight. Does this really mean they forgot to order them? Inquiring minds want to know. No matter, actually; there were plenty of other good choices.

I had the mixed spring lettuces with applewood smoked bacon, Stilton bleu cheese and pecan hush puppies with lemon-balsamic vinaigrette. The salad was supposed to have cukes too, but they were out of them. Luckily for me, they were the least important ingredient in the salad. My friend started with pan-fried goat cheese fondue with sun dried apricot-black pepper emulsion and crystallized pecan over greens, counting on it not being a true fondue, which it was not.

I'd had the hush puppies before and loved their sweet savoriness, but the crystallized pecan was an unknown entity. It tasted like a pecan meringue, solid and chewy; I loved it. We thought it added a lot to the dish.

Next up he had the Hudson Valley foie gras with pineapple-preserved lemon jam, rice paper crisp, and balsamic beef jus reduction. Verdict: decadent and divine. I scored with the sweet corn griddle cakes with lobster, avocado, Parmesan crisp and lemon-basil aioli. The dish had a generous amount of lobster complemented by perfectly ripe avocado; the crisp was almost overkill.

We were observing the kitchen staff through the window as we chatted and they were a focused bunch. It was almost 9:30 before we heard any laughter or much conversation at all. My friend, who works part-time in a restaurant kitchen, commented on the absence of jocularity and interaction, saying it wouldn't appeal to him. On the other hand they had a full house, so perhaps on slower evenings they enjoy themselves a bit more. Besides, who were we to judge?

And speaking of such, I wouldn't want to judge my friends by their marital status either. I have single male friends whose company I enjoy. But let's face it, my married friends are taken for a reason: they're interesting guys. I don't begrudge the women who got to them first, but I see no reason not to enjoy their company as long as their wives have no problem with it.

You see, I'm just borrowing them for an evening and handing them back. It's not my honey-do list they'll be working on tomorrow.