Life imitates movies

I remember deciding a few years ago to get over going to a good restaurant alone. I was in Vancouver by myself and made a reservation at Le Gavroche, full-on French cuisine, where I was seated upstairs in the renovated Victorian, in front of the fireplace. Determined to have the full solo experience, I ordered the three course dinner, which was a leisurely 2 1/2 hours of service. Bookless, I watched the servers, the other patrons, thought my own thoughts.

The waiter was far more uncomfortable with my situation than I was. He kept popping by, telling feeble jokes, asking how I was...and I was, truly, fine. I enjoyed each dish they presented, I watched the snap-shirted, tight-Wranglered cowboys saunter in and suavely navigate the menu. I watched the hapless man in his out of season white linen suit with his pretty Asian date return from the washroom with toilet paper trailing from his shoe...it was all fascinating, the kind of vignettes you think only happen in movies.

So when Hubby was gone a month ago and I was ready for someone else to cook, I went to neighbourhood foodie joint Brava Bistro and the accommodating hostess asked a larger group at the bar to make room for me. Thank you.

One of the men from the group was very focused...on me. While he never smiled, he had the undistracted stare of a cat in a blinking contest. Ahem. Oh well, I can edit my enjoyment of the room to skip over that group...until 'Bill' came over and introduced himself. "My friend is very shy, but he'd love for you to come over and have a glass of wine with us." "Ummm...thanks, but I have a Skype date. With my husband." Thanks anyway, I guess, please move on now so my neon pink blush doesn't irradiate the room.

So tonight, with Hubby away again, I was ready for a nice little supper made by not-me. Back to Brava. Again, a seat was found for me at the bar, where the service is exactly how I like it and ordered - surprise! - the scallops to start and then the lobster gnocchi. Mid-scallop I start to wonder, does that kind of look like - Bill? You have got to be kidding me. This is is usual Friday night stop! Oh well, he's at the opposite side of the bar talking in the other direction to his friend, I'm hedged in by other diners, I should be safe.

The the waiter swoops in with a glass of wine. "From the gentlemen at the end of the bar." Blast. I've been spotted. Does this really happen outside of movies? So what does Emily Post say about this situation? I nod at the two of them to acknowledge the gift, but then I am distracted from enjoying the sweet pop of the fresh peas in the lobster cream sauce as I wonder - do I have to go speak to them? Surely the nod was enough for a unwanted drink from a stranger? And my beautiful wedding ring is sparkling away. Grrr. I force myself back to my dinner - I need to be sure my potatoes are mashed into silkiness when making gnocchi next time, these are delightfully light - when Bill stops by. He apologizes for the interruption, introduces himself, says his friend is really shy and he'd like me to come over for another glass of wine. I smile politely and decline.

Inwardly I am howling! This is clearly part of his schtick, he doesn't remember me and I wonder if I went back in a month on another Friday night whether he'll do another round with the shy friend overture and elevate this to farce. No more solo dinners at Brava for me - at least on weekends.
http://www.legavroche.ca/default.asp
http://bravabistro.com/