Tonight we celebrated 13 years of marriage. As tradition holds, we dined at a French Restaurant. This year, we chose Le Rendezvous as our restaurant of choice. After reading some reviews, it ranked as one of Dallas' most romantic restaurants. Perfect!
We should have known that it would be entertaining the minute we went to look for their website in early December to make a reservation. Their website which had dazzled us in October had lapsed and was now up for purchase. Nonetheless, Scott found the phone number, called, talked to someone with a Spanish accent, and made a reservation.
By all accounts, the decor of the restaurant was charming. We walked into "La Vie en Rose" and were seated in a corner table. Only two other tables were occupied. Our server, Miguel, probably the same hispanic man who took our reservations, called me "Senorita" and provided us with a wine list. Have I mentioned that this is a French restaurant?
We chose wine and ordered our meal. Usually, we can order in French if the menu is in French and English, but our waiter didn't understand a word of French and asked if we could tell him in English. As we waited for our food we started paying closer attention to the music. From "That's the way, uh-huh, uh-huh I like it" to "Imagine" to "Sugar, Sugar" to "Please, Mr. Please" to songs in Spanish, we definitely got an eclectic variety of musical numbers. At one point, we heard a piano song to which I knew French words, but that was the extent of the French music for the evening.
As we were almost done, three gentlemen walked in, one as if he owned the place. he actually had Miguel lower the lights a bit. At first, we thought maybe he was an owner, but after awhile, we came to the conclusion that he was probably just a regular. A very wealthy regular judging by the three orders of Chataubriand that he ordered for his guests and the discussion of a $100 tip from his last visit. He asked Miguel if he had split it with his coworkers. At this point, our dessert had come and all conversation between Scott and I ceased as we eavesdropped. Not that it was hard, the men spoke loudly which apparently alerted the two ladies next to us who had been speaking loudly as well that maybe they should quiet down a bit.
At one point, the lead gentleman lit up a cigarette. Yes, Dallas is a non-smoking restaurant city. Miguel quickly leaned over and said something to him to which he replied, "I know. I'm going outside." as he got up and left. Still, the smoke eventually made its way over to our table, so I was glad that we were mostly done.
Scott went to the restroom, and I was entertained by a story of how the men didn't speak any French at all, but they had learned how waving a 50 Euro note could communicate very well in French if there was a problem or if they needed attention. I also learned about one man's wife and his girlfriends. The word "s#%@" was a commonly dropped word. Apparently, the didn't know French, but they were well versed with English slang. By the time Scott returned from the restroom, I was actually holding back hysterical laughter.
Miguel came back over, took a picture for me (not this one), and asked what the special occaision was that called for a photo. We told him it was our 13th wedding anniversary and he looked a little shocked for a moment--as most people do. He said we didn't look like we possibly were old enough to have been married for 13 years. I'm quite certan he things we got married when we were twelve. He wasn't done with us though. After many hearty congratulations, he proceeded to tell us that we looked like we were very much in love and very happy. He said that with a bit of surprise in his voice. I guess he feels that when is married at the age of twelve, they must not love each other 13 years later!
We finally paid our bill, laughed at the three gentlemen a bit longer, and left. We always have entertaining dinners for our anniversary. I suppose it is because we celebrate during the holidays. People are more laid back or something. Regardless, the food was good, but I don't get the impression that we will be returning. Perhaps the atmosphere was lacking for us what with the odd selection of music and the very hispanic servers who didn't know French at all, but I don't really see how on earth it can be considered the most romantic restaurant in Dallas. Perhaps when it first opened, but I think it might need Chef Ramsey to give it a revamp. At least we smiled and laughed a lot which is probably why Miguel thinks that we are far too young and happy to have been married for 13 years.
Love you, dear. Here's to many more. Perhaps a real French restaurant on our 20th Anniversary. What do they call French restaurants in France? Oh, yeah. They just call them restaurants.
