Love tastes like...

It's finally winter. The snow fell profusely last night, carpeting the manhattan streets with a blanket of virgin white for a good ten to fifteen minutes before the gotham traffic turned it into a sludge of grey. The temperature dropped off the thermostat dramatically. It was definitely a stay in night. It didn't look like it would be busy. Bad news for me since I was scheduled to close last night and I'd rather it be busy as too much time alone with one's thoughts can drive you crazy.

As with all slow nights, I tend to watch my tables more attentively when its slow, not in the name of good service, but for entertainment sake- I think watching people dine is more compelling than watching the slew of reality tv that is in our face 24/7. Tonight I was focused on two couples. Both were on dates but that was all they had in common. The stark differences were apparent at first glance.

The first couple were in the dawn of their relationship. You could see the sun rising in each other's gaze. Searching hands found famiar fingers waiting to weave themselves into underneath the table. Their voices were hushed and secretive, their tones warm and honeyed, a sharp contrast to the wintery stage set around them. I almost didn't want to disturb them, they were like a perfect picture that I didn't want to put my hand on, lest I ruin the artist's handiwork. They ordered without looking at the menus set before them. I was surprised that they took their eyes off of each other long enough to notice me. They later complimented me on the brilliant flavors of the food, the smooth ripeness of their wine, and the modest sweetness of the chocolate souffle. Their perception of everything around them was an exact mirror of each other- flawless, intense, and romanticized. I fell in love just watching them be in love. Watching them was like feeling the first rays of a spring sunrise, it was welcoming.

The second couple were facing the dusk of their union. Overly familiar, they seemed to read too much into each other- and not like what they were reading. There was nothing left to be discovered, no mysteries to uncover between them. They had stars in their eyes. Lights quickly dimming, just a pale reminder of the love that once burned so brightly but now is forever gone. Only the hollow shell of what once was. They held each other's hand, not out of love or desire, more out of habit. A show of solidarity, and consolation- a show that they were not alone in their union of utter misery. Their conversation fluctuated between terse and measured-depending on who was losing their temper. It was sad to watch. I almost wanted to intervene to break the heavy mood that hung around them. When their ire wasn't on each other's short comings, it was focused on me. The wine was bitter, the food was too salty, the dessert too small to fill their appetite for sweetness. They were the embodiment of a winter solstice. Cold, barren, meloncholic.

Truly love (or the lack there of) changes the way we take the world in. I never want to see the world in such bleak colors when there are hues that can not be named and flavors that cannot be described. Love feeds the soul. Bon Appetite.