My girlfriend’s boyfriend took me here for my birthday after he learned that my Dummy Boy took me to a Dummy restaurant for my birthday.
The space isn’t as romantic as I’d hoped it’d be — well lit and spacious instead of dark and cozy — which was fine with me because he’s not my boyfriend and I’m not that kind of girl. The food, however, was a perfect balance of romantic and sensual. The salmon tempura and roe amuse bouche was presented as if a corsage, and its unique mix of flavors and textures felt like a first kiss with a boy I like. The scotch egg was similar but more sensual, like a deep kiss with a man I fantasize about — lightly crispy on the outside, rich and savory in the inside. The foie gras terrine was unusual because it was dressed — a top layer of mulled wine gelee and sprinkles of hazelnut on the side — to look like fancy chocolates, which we nibbled at while laughing about something I don’t remember. The butternut squash soup — I usually don’t order soup because spooning soup and bringing it to the mouth makes people look ridiculous — turned out to be more romantic than sloppy because we shared it and he was sweet enough to tip the bowl for me to make it less awkward to get the last delicious spoonful. An elegant beet salad with poached pear reminded us to remain graceful.
I would never bring Dummy Boy here because he eats food like he’s a porn star. At Copine, they want diners to eat like they’re in a soft porn film directed by women. I like that. I also liked getting dressed up because Copine is that kind of place.