I Forgot How to Date My Wife
Plancha
931 Franklin Ave
Garden City, NY 11530
516-246-9459
Overall Rating: 4.5 / 5 Plates of Bacon
A spot that’s perfect for conversation over great food
Parents will understand this; my wife and I don’t get to go out on dates much anymore. We have three boys and with three boys, comes three boys’ activities, three boys’ sports, and the incessant exhaustion that comes with being a parent of… three boys.
I love my sons infinitely; however, I have missed being a couple and doing couple things, like going out on dates regularly. When my mother-in-law offered to take the kids out to a pizzeria for dinner, we found ourselves with a Friday night sans kids (for a couple of hours, at least).
So, we drove to the Franklin Ave. area of Garden City, NY, which has a plethora of date night-worthy restaurants to choose from. We had a limited time to work with (about an hour and a half). We also didn’t want to eat too much, as it was on the earlier side of the evening. A place that offers small portions would be optimal.
I knew there was a tapas joint on Franklin, because we’ve wanted to go for a while, I just forgot the name. A quick search on Google Maps and a moment later we pulled into the the parking lot, took a quick selfie (#DateNight), and walked into Plancha.
We walked into the dimly lit restaurant and were greeted immediately. We were offered a two-seat high-top table adjacent to the bar, which was perfectly fine for us.
There was a QR Code printed on a slip of paper for us to scan and view the evening’s menu on our phones.
We perused the wine list, beer list, tapas and plates. As it was early evening, we were able to enjoy half-priced beverages, thanks to happy hour, which ended at 6 PM.
My wife ordered herself a red wine and I inquired about the beer offerings; ultimately settling on a bottle of Hofbräu Oktoberfestbier, which is one of my all-time favorite beers.
Before I get into the menu and anything else we ordered, and enjoyed, I want to spend some time on the design of the restaurant.
Plancha’s footprint is small. In relation to the other restaurants on the strip, it may be the smallest. There’s limited table seating, a couple of high-tops, and the bar.
In that regard, we were lucky to have been offered the high-top—it’s been a while and I forgot about making reservations on date nights.
That being said, my date night blunders were just getting started, but I digress; the décor was indicative of a Spanish bar. It’s very well-designed and planned. Yellow-paint on plaster walls, light wood, exposed brick, and thick, white candles on handcrafted, wooden sconces.
Beyond the bar lies an area that I would describe as a deli counter and kitchenet. The staff are able to slice hams and other cured or dried meats and cook food in the griddle or fryer, while more intricate dishes are crafted in the kitchen-proper.
In my opinion, the atmosphere was perfect for a date.
We could talk low to one another and hear each other just fine. There wasn’t any annoyingly-loud background music to set the restaurant’s mood. The other patrons were speaking in low tones to one another as well. Occasionally, a laugh would break the silence, but it was wonderful to sit down at a place with amazing smells, conversational white noise, and just talk to my wife.
We toasted to date night… my second blunder occurred here, with a noteworthy foot-in-mouth moment; “To our first date night in years,” I proclaimed, but the meaning behind my words was, “I was happy to have time with you, alone.”
“I don’t appreciate you saying that,” she replied, with candor in her voice. She wasn’t being argumentative, simply stating that I didn’t say the right thing, with the honest tone of a thoughtful friend. When it comes to communicating with my wife, I tend to eloquently say the wrong words, despite the right intentions.
Let me describe our food, as I don’t want you to think that the only thing I had in my mouth was my foot… although, it will enter my mouth once more this night.
We ordered two tapas and two chef’s plates; mine was one of the evening’s specials.
We started with a French onion tart, my wife’s choice, and the pan con jamon. We chose well.
The French onion tart is a puff-pastry tart with caramelized onions, crisp pancetta and taleggio, topped with fried rosemary and a drizzle of balsamic honey.
The pan con jamon is a toasted flatbread that was more of a thin crostini topped with a piquillo pepper salsa and serrano ham.
French Onion Tart
Pan con Jamon
They were absolutely delicious. Full stop.
The French onion tart was everything you love about French onion soup, without the embarrassing slurping noises.
The pan con jamon was bright, with just the right amount of acid to elevate the dish, fatty from the serrano ham, and briny—but in a way that enhances the bite without being too salty—it was almost like the salt came from capers or olives. The toast was cooked just right. Not overly toasted. It was the perfect delivery vehicle for the flavors that were expertly placed atop.
Our meal was off to a great start.
Then my idiot mouth decided it wanted more foot.
Trying to find something complementary to say, instead of simply complementing my wife, I took her hand in mine and looked at the ring she wore. “Did I get that for you?” I stupidly ask.
Well, her reply came in the form of a look that said, “you idiot.”
“I did?”
“Is that your final answer?” She decided to have some fun at my expense.
“I didn’t,” I panicked. “I didn’t get you a ring.” (other than our engagement and wedding rings, of course)
“This was an anniversary present!” She said, while ending her statement in her mind with “you moron!” Continuing, she said, “You threw it into a photo album you made for me, while I was looking at the pictures.”
Busted!
Full confession, totally forgot I did that—we’ve been together for over twenty years; married for sixteen, but thankfully she remembered that gesture and her recounting my romantic gesture jogged my memory. That was a fun one.
Not so fun to forget it on date night, though.
Our food came to my rescue and I was able to remove my foot and replace it with the steak pintxos, a Peruvian-style marinated wagyu steak on skewers with aji Amarillo mayo, fried chulpe corn, pickled red onions, micro cilantro cress, and toasted flatbread. It tasted much better than my foot.
My wonderful, and forgiving, wife ordered the gnocchi—a house-made ricotta gnocchi in a brown butter sage cream.
Steak Pintxos
Gnocchi
The steak was cooked rare, which is was fine; however, I prefer my steak cooked medium rare, but cheating towards medium. Regardless, it was still tender enough to cut with the butter knife from my table setting. A steak knife would have been preferable, tenderness aside. The steak cubes were seasoned well and it tasted like a delicious steak, on its own. The aji Amarillo mayo had a pleasant kick; not overly-spicy, but it was warm and exciting. The fried chulpe corn kernels were reminiscent of Corn Nuts, but much better and added a fun, textural pop. The cilantro cress was more than just a garnish; it blessed the bite with subtle notes of greens—the bites left me with a, “hmm… I know that flavor, what is it?” and I loved every moment of confusion.
My wife’s gnocchi were equally delicious and unique. The pillows were soft, not gummy, and they were seared. I’ve never had a seared gnocchi before. The textural difference was surprising and it worked so well. The sauce was creamy, salty, cheesy, and decadent.
We enjoyed every bite of food on our date, and aside from a few embarrassingly stupid things that came out of my mouth, it felt so amazing to connect with my wife on a social level again.
The food, the atmosphere, and the service led me to bestow a hearty 4.5 out of 5 plates of bacon, to Plancha. I feel like if I were asked how I like my steak cooked, and I received my steak cooked to my preferred doneness, I would have given this a perfect score of 5 plates of bacon—it didn’t need much to get there. This place was fantastic and I will return again.
I really hope we have the opportunity to go on more frequent dates, so I can practice dating my wife again and [hopefully] only put food in my mouth, and not my foot.
If you’re married with kids, how often are you able to connect with your partner? Let me know in the comments.
If you want to read about another fun, ethnic eatery, check out my review of Shelby’s Legendary Shawarma.
