Gourmand Don Juan declares that Strip House is a sure stage for seduction.
"Strip House is the sexiest restaurant in New York,” our pal Francesco announces last week over dinner. “When I take a date to the Strip House I know I’m going to make out.” (Let me call him Francesco to protect his future in the bedroom.) To be quite candid, Francesco is the teflon Romeo, in and out of love constantly, an outright chauvinist pig, in fact, but as a pal, really fun, full of zest and unfailingly loyal. This is not an exposé, This is a service column on seduction…a subject I thought I’d mastered till Francesco spilled all.)
“The Strip House,” I am shocked. “The Strip House for great steak, yes. But romantic? It’s noisy and full of suits gobbling meat. What’s sexy? Photos of strippers? Red flocked walls?”
“When a woman says she wants meat, she’s already telling you something.” he says. She doesn’t mind showing you her appetite. I ask for a two in the back. There’s nothing to intimidate her. She’s comfortable. That’s the secret. You order the rib eye for two. The truffled potatoes. That chocolate cake, of course. She is charmed. You can be sure she’s coming to bed with you.
“Or maybe she only eats fish,” he continues, clearly quite pleased with himself. “I don’t take her to Le Bernardin. Too intimidating. Or Esca. I love Esca. But the crudo and pastas she never heard of might make her uncomfortable. I take her to Aquagrill. It’s still very good, lively, full of people and the menu is familiar. She’s going to be comfortable, easy, open.
“The Modern is very sexy too,” he goes on, watching me take notes. “I should write an article about this but I would make too many enemies.” He sighs. I’ve watched Francesco in two long affairs with seriously smart and accomplished women being his outrageously sexist self wondering why they put up with it. So it’s not that he’s only into the one-night stand, or mindless bimbos. But when he’s dating, it seems, the after-dinner digestif is sex. “Yes, the Modern. A certain kind of girl will be very impressed. She likes art. It’s expensive. She could never go there on her own. It looks out at the Sculpture Garden. You just know she is ready.
“Jean Georges at lunch could not be more sexy. She knows she looks good in that light. That food. The surprising combinations. The incredible tastes. So sensuous. Too much wine. She is transported By three o’clock she doesn’t even remember she is in New York.
“I have given much thought to this question of romantic restaurants. In each case you have to study the girl and find the right restaurant for her. One If by Land, Two If By Sea. Forget it. A joke. The Terrace. Never. Never. The minute you walk in she knows what you have in mind. You might as well write her a note ‘Tonight I expect to do it.’ It’s too obvious.”
Was there ever a man so unabashedly calculated? I find myself mesmerized by the conceit, his irrepressible ego, “And where would you take me?”
He does not hesitate for a nanosecond. “I would take you to Masa, of course, side by side at the bar. All those little tastes…the sighs…the sharing of the textures. Oh yes. No problem. That would be perfect for you.”
I feel myself blushing all over. Is he a sexual terrorist or is he just an unquenchable Don Juan? I can’t help urging him on, proposing possible conquests. A sampling:
A European woman: “Bianca where they know me. The chef will send out extra dishes.
She will like that it is not too expensive. Or maybe I’ll bring her to Tribeca. She will think I am an artist. Blaue Gans. The goulash, the sausages make her comfortable. She feels at home.”
A sophisticated New Yorker: “Some place she can’t get in on her own. The Box would impress her.”
Newly divorced 40-year-old: “Gilt. She will remember when it was Le Cirque and it will be like she never left.”
A Dominican woman: “I don’t take her to the Bronx or Washington Heights. That’s insulting I take her to Paladar. Everyone speaks Spanish. Arun comes out of the kitchen. He flirts with her. It’s a great Latino feeling, food she recognizes. She is comfortable.”
Euro trash: “Asia de Cuba. She would have a funny cocktail and the Philippe Starck look and people she recognizes. She’s at home.
“What if she’s kosher,” he suddenly cries. “Where will I take her?”
“Le Marais is a kosher steakhouse,” I tell him. How about Renee Zellweger?
“I think she wants to talk and be talked to. I would take her to Tia Pol, impossible to get in but I would arrange it. She would be impressed. It’s not expensive but it’s serious food.”
Scarlet Johannsen? “She’s a smoker. So I would have to find her a place where she can smoke. That would impress her.” (Try Cipriani Downtown, I suggest. “They think they’re in Italy.”)
Nicole Kidman? “ L’Impero. It feels sexy, isolated from the city. Food is very good. Not so expensive. Perfect for Nicole Kidman.”
Sharon Stone: “The Four Seasons for lunch in the Grill.”
“But how would you get a table?” I want to know.
“Are you kidding? I’m with Sharon Stone.”
“My problem is Barbra Streisand,” he blurts out. “I have given it a lot of thought. But I can’t find the right place. I thought maybe Elio’s. Politicians go there.”
“Why not the Four Seasons for her too?”
“No, she would not want to be on display.”
“How about a hot dog on the Staten Island ferry,” my guy, The Road Food Warrior suggests.
“I got it,” Francesco suddenly cries. “I got it. “Manducati’s. I would take Barbara Streisand to Manducati’s in Long Island City."
“And where should I take George Clooney?” I ask.
“Robuchon,” he snaps back. “It’s perfect for him. You two sit at the bar side by side, very close…you order. You choose a great red wine. Everything that comes is wonderful. He is impressed. You might want to reserve a room upstairs in advance.”
Francesco is getting to me now. I actually feel like I’ve been unfaithful. Twice. Kind of fun. Like the good old days.
What's your favorite restaurant for seduction? Email me and I'll post it here.
About Gael Greene
Photo: StevenRichter
In her role as restaurant critic of New York Magazine (1968 to January 2002) Detroit-born Gael Greene helped change the way New Yorkers (and many Americans) think about food.
"Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Ice Cream But Were Too Fat To Ask," "The Mafia Guide to Dining Out." and " Nobody Knows the Truffles I've Seen" were early pieces. In more recent years her annual roundup of New York City's dining favorites, Ask Gael, was a gourmand's collectible for many years and she continues to write a weekly Ask Gael column for NYM. Earlier she worked at the New York Post.
As co-founder with James Beard and a continuing force behind Citymeals-on-Wheels as board chair, Ms. Greene has made a significant impact on the city of New York. Citymeals, the largest public/private partnership in the country, has raised $200 million in its twenty-six-year history to help feed the city's frail elderly shut-ins.
Ms. Greene's memoir, "Insatiable, Tales from a Life of Delicious Excess" was published April, 2006. Earlier non-fiction books include "Delicious Sex, A Gourmet Guide for Women and the Men Who Want to Love Them Better" and "BITE: A New York Restaurant Strategy." Her two novels Blue skies, No Candy" and "Doctor Love" were NY Times best sellers.
Gael Greene
Articles used with permission of Gael Greene, Copyright 2010. All rights reserved. Steven Richter's photographs may not be used without permission.
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Sex After Dinner for the Wily Gourmand
