The Most Dangerous Game

Let the record show that I have a couple of new notches on my belt.

I like to think I cut a fine figure cutting part of a field on a riding mower, my skirt flapping in the breeze.

Second, I attended my first hunt club show, watching as two Englishmen graded young hounds on their potential as fox-hunting dogs.

I even spent part of a sunny morning on a ladder picking heirloom apples from a tree.

So while I'm not a country girl, I played one for a couple of days, right down to eating pork chops from a farm where I'd met the parents of the pig who gave his life for the best chops I ever ate.

Needless to say, no one was fooled into thinking I was anything but what I was, an invited guest.

Once back in the city, I found an e-mail from a friend suggesting some play time, so I broke bad and picked up the phone.

Mark the date; it's not something I do very often.

Not 45 minutes later, we were meeting up at Magpie along with hordes of other people who'd apparently had the same idea.

Their popularity worked out well, though, because I soon felt a tap on my shoulder and there was a favorite chef on a rare night off.

With him was a recently-promoted craft beer rep and before long, a favorite restaurateur arrived.

Refusing to acknowledge the fact that Fall arrived yesterday, I ordered Villa Wolf Pinot Gris to go with the '80s music I count on at Magpie.

We ended up being a group of three, so we could get lots of food and share.

Since I'd never seen a burger on their menu before, that was our first priority and it got a thumbs up for its juicy, well-seasoned meat.

Next came one of tonight's specials, rabbit loin with braised kale in a garlic sauce with grilled peppadew peppers and fennel pollen, a winning combo if a bit drier than it should have been.

More wine was in order and our latecomer friend took the reins and acknowledged the weather change simultaneously, ordering a bottle of Domaine Gaget Beaujolais for our next dishes.

The barbecue baby back ribs I'd had here before but this time they came with peanut brittle, one of my personal favorites when it comes to old-fashioned candy.

Because Chef Owen is the sausage master, we also ordered his sausage of the day, this one of pork and Chorizo, making for a deeply-flavored sausage.

When we weren't sucking bones or crunching brittle, we talked about American markets versus European markets, server expectations and restaurant weeks.

But of course once we got into the wine, what everyone really wanted to talk about was my dating life, such as it is.

We came up with what we thought was a brilliant idea, a version of speed dating that was slow rather than fast and focused on wine tasting while getting to know other wine-loving singles one on one.

Goodness knows, there's got to be a better way than some of my attempts.

A friend had written me earlier today,"You’ve had a few close calls and I don’t mean on the mean streets of Jackson Ward. Dating is a dangerous game, full of disappointing revelations. Yelp? Heavens!" about my recent lunch date fail.

I still think it's possible to find the yin to my yang.

It's like that book my friend Holmes has, "Man with Farm Seeks Woman with Tractor," but much simpler.

Woman with words seeks man with same.

And she rides a tractor in a skirt.