Figs and Dates

My lunch date scored big on two points.

Between his vertigo and my schedule, we'd been trying all week to set up a third date.

When it seemed like nothing was going to work, he cut right to the chase, not mincing words.

"But I so want to see you!"

Suddenly my Friday lunch hour opened up and I suggest Bistro Bobette, a place he's somehow never been.

Then he shows up with The New York Review of Books, eager to discuss Martin Scorsese's article on the language of cinema.

Well done, sir.

When he suggests wine for lunch, I agree based on my friend Pru's theory that wine at lunch is so civilized.

That and a good Rose from Provence is tailor-made for a mid-day date.

We start with a special of charred octopus, chanterelles, bacon, arugula, white beans and red pepper, a dish that could only have been better if eaten on a seaside balcony.

(imagine soft breezes of salty air)

Instead, he tells me about one of his all-time favorite movies, "Paris, Texas," a film that had been showing in Europe on his post-college trip but one he'd waited to see until he got home.

Ah, the mistakes of youth. But I add another Palme d'Or winner to my list of must-see movies.

For my next course, I have another of today's specials, this one a killer salad of heirloom tomatoes, beets and figs in a balsamic reduction.

I will continue to order figs as long as the sweet beauties keep showing up on menus, determined to savor their particular late summer ripeness.

We get off on a tangent about travel because it's been years since he was in Italy and less than a year for me, so he wants my take.

When I tell him about the Vermeer exhibit I saw in Rome, I am surprised at what a Vermeer fan he is and how much he knows about the artist.

This leads to a discussion of Amsterdam, a place he loves and one I've never visited.

Even so, I have been avidly reading about the recently-completed 10-year renovation of the Rijksmusuem there, home to Rembrandt's "Night Watch."

Of all the unlikely topics, he's been keeping up with the re-opening of the museum, too and tells me about his memories of visiting it years ago.

Well, this is going awfully well.

For lunch I have tuna tartare with my Rose, enjoying an Asian-inspired dish in a French bistro almost as much as I'd enjoyed a Dutch artist in an Italian museum.

Too full for dessert, we linger as the dining room begins clearing out, talking about everything and nothing.

"I just love hearing what's in your head and talking to you." he says toward the end of our afternoon.

He sure knows how to ace a third date, that's all I'm saying.