Romance is easy.
There are ground rules. Methods. Well-established scientific schemes forged over years of intense fieldwork.
But the casual date remains a precarious and often poorly executed excursion.
Here to help keep things simple is Tartinery, a breezy French café opening tomorrow in Nolita.
Built by three French friends who noted a serious lack of authentic Parisian tartines (a sort of open-face sandwich served on razor-thin slices of French bread) in New York, Tartinery has all the ingredients for a Parisian evening of enchantment—charming, sharable French food, Serge Gainsbourg on the radio and a live tree in the middle of the dining room (proper foliage, of course, is crucial for any great date spot).
There are two floors: the food bar/open kitchen on the ground level good for sharing a tartine (go for the Rosbif, Foie Gras or lobster) and some bread (flown in daily from a bakery in Paris)—all prepped by chefs trained in France—while discussing your taste in berets.
But the downstairs is where you'll decamp for cozier moments—every table is a two-top, save for the communal table (for those moments when you can't bear to choose one dining partner). Or ask your garçon for a seat near the double-sided fireplace, a task made easier by the oversized numbers written on every table—be sure to request dix or onze (10 or 11) for maximum fire.
Or, as the French say, "en fuego."
There are ground rules. Methods. Well-established scientific schemes forged over years of intense fieldwork.
But the casual date remains a precarious and often poorly executed excursion.
Here to help keep things simple is Tartinery, a breezy French café opening tomorrow in Nolita.
Built by three French friends who noted a serious lack of authentic Parisian tartines (a sort of open-face sandwich served on razor-thin slices of French bread) in New York, Tartinery has all the ingredients for a Parisian evening of enchantment—charming, sharable French food, Serge Gainsbourg on the radio and a live tree in the middle of the dining room (proper foliage, of course, is crucial for any great date spot).
There are two floors: the food bar/open kitchen on the ground level good for sharing a tartine (go for the Rosbif, Foie Gras or lobster) and some bread (flown in daily from a bakery in Paris)—all prepped by chefs trained in France—while discussing your taste in berets.
But the downstairs is where you'll decamp for cozier moments—every table is a two-top, save for the communal table (for those moments when you can't bear to choose one dining partner). Or ask your garçon for a seat near the double-sided fireplace, a task made easier by the oversized numbers written on every table—be sure to request dix or onze (10 or 11) for maximum fire.
Or, as the French say, "en fuego."
