The Chicken for Two at Le Pichet
It happens to everyone. You are in love with someone. This person is not in love with you. Maybe it makes no sense for you to be in love with this person, maybe this person is in love with someone else, maybe this person isn’t even gay. No matter. A feeling is a feeling, and unrequited love is one of the hungriest.
He took me to Le Pichet for dinner. I will never forget it. It was my birthday, which explains why he paid for it. (In my imagination, he paid for it for other reasons.) Le Pichet is a small, bustling French restaurant on First Avenue, with tiled floors and mirrors on the walls. A chalkboard publicizes the day’s cheeses and desserts, and the customers and servers look chic and sometimes speak French. But it’s not pretentious and it’s not stuffy. It’s my favorite restaurant in the world…