He said:
Love is patient, love is kind. Unless, that is, you screw up Valentine’s day.
Ladies, a little secret: for us, it’s just another day. But you probably already knew that, didn’t you? And you pretty much don’t care either, right? One of the prices of admission to congress with the fairer sex is making this day important. And part of that is Valentine’s Day dinner.
We’ll be dining in this Valentine’s Day, working on an ambitious attempt at Duck Confit. You’ve probably heard all the stories about Valentine’s Day, along with Mother’s Day and New Year’s Eve, being among the worst times to dine out. Much of that is true: Valentine’s dinner means restaurants packed to the rafters. More importantly, they are packed to the rafters with people who almost never dine out. Otherwise lovely venues are overwhelmed with complaints about portion size, demands that the tuna be cooked medium well, rants about the fact that the sweetbreads aren’t sweet, and sure ain’t bread, and requests that they serve the steak tartar with the tartar on the side.
