Ethel* and I met last year at a friend’s birthday party. Life strikes when you least expect. We only shared a few words, but she left enough of an impression that I’d intermittently make small extra efforts to say hi in the dining hall. Beyond that, I let it be. Spring faded.
December came around, and I used this column — as I said I would— as an excuse to ask her out. I picked her up on a snowy evening in a friend’s scruffy Toyota pick-up truck, a grimy ride to a fancy place: Tourterelle.
If you haven’t been, go! Christine and Bill Snell, the owner-chefs, run a fabulous establishment. They serve authentic French cuisine made with local Vermont ingredients. But half of the whole experience is the suave, cozy atmosphere they’ve created in an old country farmhouse. The restaurant isn’t cheap, but the service is flawless and the food is something to write to home about.
I should note, though, that whereas Otter Creek Bakery is a quick and casual spot for a first date, Tourterelle is a bit more of a serious undertaking. Factor in 12 minutes driving each way plus three courses and maybe a digestive coffee, and you’re facing two hours of expository conversation.
Fear not, Ethel and I did it all, and did it smoothly. She told wonderfully entertaining stories; good because her own story is so convoluted. I felt bad laughing at her recent misfortune with frostbite (and I subsequently got frostbitten the next week) but she’d recounted the incident with a very enlightened and comical resignation.
There’s something about being with an elegant woman at a nice place that will get any chump like me sitting up straight and smiling.
On my side of the table, many of the nerves I had to navigate on my previous date with Belinda had dissipated. More comfortable with the inevitable first-date uncertainties, I felt less entangled by the need to react perfectly in each conversational exchange and freer to consider the broader direction of our interaction. In earlier dates, I would only respond to the last thing said. With Ethel, I could remember to ask questions after longish periods of being inevitably side-tracked.
I also felt less concerned about getting everything just right. I tried a self-deprecating joke, the surest way to get an easy laugh, describing my little brother as a natural charmer: “At least someone in our family is good with girls.” Ethel loved that one, maybe a little too much. It was a funny to sit wondering if she was thinking, “It’s funny because it’s true!”
To my experience thus far, the adage that ‘practice makes perfect’ is incompatible with casual first dates. First dates at their finest are a little rough around the edges. Repetition just makes it a little easier to ride out the bumps. So does taking out a girl like Ethel to a place like Tourterelle.
*name changed
Artwork by TAMIR WILLIAMS
