France. In October. Just picture it.
The wine. The steak au poivre. The body-baring masses walking around in two-pieces with nary a tan line in sight.
Oh, sorry. We meant South Beach. October in South Beach.
Make some plans for Colette Little French Bistro, a tiny rustic alcove of French staples and date-night-approved glasses of wine on Lincoln Road, now open.
It’s all wood and warm and homey in here. Like a country cottage on the outskirts of the Alps. There’s fully stocked wooden wine racks. An old-timey mailbox out front. Candlelit two-tops. That sort of thing.
All of which equals: a good old-fashioned date spot. First date, second date, third date—doesn’t matter. The movie theater nearby: start there. Afterward, suggest this little gem to your date. While you’re at it, suggest the cozy corner banquette for some mussels and frites. The chef here’s spent some time at Michelin-starred spots in France. That bodes well for your mussels. And your night.
Of course, now that we’ve finally hit patio-dining season, the one out front is a solid option, too. Chilled rosé. Steak tartare. The parade of barely dressed bodies walking by.
Tends to be a pretty fantastic combo.
The wine. The steak au poivre. The body-baring masses walking around in two-pieces with nary a tan line in sight.
Oh, sorry. We meant South Beach. October in South Beach.
Make some plans for Colette Little French Bistro, a tiny rustic alcove of French staples and date-night-approved glasses of wine on Lincoln Road, now open.
It’s all wood and warm and homey in here. Like a country cottage on the outskirts of the Alps. There’s fully stocked wooden wine racks. An old-timey mailbox out front. Candlelit two-tops. That sort of thing.
All of which equals: a good old-fashioned date spot. First date, second date, third date—doesn’t matter. The movie theater nearby: start there. Afterward, suggest this little gem to your date. While you’re at it, suggest the cozy corner banquette for some mussels and frites. The chef here’s spent some time at Michelin-starred spots in France. That bodes well for your mussels. And your night.
Of course, now that we’ve finally hit patio-dining season, the one out front is a solid option, too. Chilled rosé. Steak tartare. The parade of barely dressed bodies walking by.
Tends to be a pretty fantastic combo.
