You Got a Face with a View

As dinner dates go, it was the best kind.

We ate and drank for hours, the conversation never waned and for the most part, the accompanying music worked.

We began our eating marathon at Secco where I enjoyed Landron "Atmospheres," a sparkling with a long finish, exactly the qualities I want in a date.

Eating commenced with country pork terrine with sundried tomato, lardo and pistachio or "fancy Spam" as my smart-assed date called it...as we ate every bite.

Next came tuna tartare with an olive tapenade while he told me about "War Horse," which he'd seen the night before.

It's interesting, some people I know who saw it loved the first act and the rest swear the second was better.

Our eating continued unabated with an especially beautifully-composed plate of beets, turnips and radish with pine nut-rosemary brittle and mounds of creme fraiche.

I like to think that even my beet-hating mother would have appreciated this sublime combination of flavors.

Secco was doing a brisk business, with people continuing to come in and fill up bar stools and tables.

Given the size of Richmond, it was inevitable that eventually one of them would be a guy I'd had a couple of dates with.

His friend, unaware, tried to sit down next to my date and me, but was quickly reminded by my former date to give us our space.

It wasn't awkward - we'd only gone out twice - but it gave my current date a chance to razz me about how androgynous and conservative he looked.

You know how dates love that.

It was somewhere around then that in the middle of Talking Heads' "This Must Be the Place," a terrifically romantic song and a personal favorite, our server turned it off.

I was not amused. She claimed it was because the kitchen didn't like New Wave and wanted something peppier, but I think she simply did not have an appreciation for what a masterpiece of a love song it is.

I got plenty of time
You got light in your eyes
And you're standing here beside me
I love the passing of time
Never for money
Always for love
Cover up, say goodnight
Say goodnight

She switched the music to the David Bowie channel, not a bad choice, but we were soon hearing a not particularly peppy Zombies song, leaving her motives somewhat suspect.

Bubbles gone, we switched to 2007 von Hovel Scharzhofberger Riesling, done in the true German style with sweetness and good acidity.

The guy next to us had seen it on the chalkboard and been curious but not brave enough to order it and seemed happy to see us doing so.

With it, we had succulent pork cheeks with spaghetti squash and pomegranate pork jus, a dish that screamed Fall to me with its seasonal squash and pomegranate.

Meanwhile, a Psychedelic Furs song came on the radio and I saw our server make a move toward the controls, as if she might change the station again.

Fortunately she didn't for I fear owner Julia would have backhanded her for a transgression like that. Are you new here, miss?

Don't mess with the Furs at Secco.

My former date stopped by on his way out, checking with me to see what I'd been reading lately, but mostly, I think, to check out my present date.

Not that it's any of his business, but I felt sure I'd hear from him again soon.

Tonight's date was about as far from androgynous and conservative as they come, and we lingered over glasses of Domaine Faillenc Sainte Marie Corbieres Rose, full bodied and with the brilliant color of cranberry juice, while having date talk.

Of course, date talk varies from man to man, but in this case, the rapport seemed awfully good, so we ranged from D.C. mixed income housing projects to Latino art to wine tastings.

Personally, I think he liked me because I eat a lot, not something I anticipated being my strong suit.

When we finally left Secco after four hours with both of us running into all kinds of people we knew (small town and all), we saw my former date heading into the Daily. 'Nuff said.

After a walk in Carytown, we ended up at Can Can because my date was craving a big piece of red meat.

We found seats at the end of the bar and ordered animal flesh -cheeseburger frites for me and steak frites for him - and Cabernet Franc whilst an employee began scrubbing down the area behind the bar, not a very appealing thing to smell while eating.

Fortunately, good company and a pile of frites the size of my head compensate for a lot.

The less we say about it, the better
Make it up as we go along
Feet on the ground
Head in the sky
It's okay, I know nothing's wrong
Nothing's wrong

As dates go, last night's was sparkling and had a long finish. Best of all, an invitation for another.

Guess that this must be the place.

Which is exactly what I told Mr. Former Date when he e-mailed me this morning.