Half Decent Proposal: Part Three

As I knelt in front of my beloved, stupid temporary ring in my outstretched hand, a beautiful broad smile spread across her face. It was an immediate and emphatic “Yes!”

There was, dear reader, a tear in my eye. Just the one tear – I am after all a man, and a proper man with a beard and little interest in moisturiser. For the most part, of course, it was happiness and relief, but it was also frustration and regret that the day hadn’t worked out as I’d imagined. I offered to plan something else when we got home that would be a full on, just like in the movies, one to tell the kids about proposal production.

I am ashamed to report that, in a very unmanly fashion, I had to be consoled, reassured and generally cheered up by Hannah at this point. She said that she was a little disappointed I didn’t have her grandmother’s ring but, by the only measure that means anything, the proposal had been a resounding success – her answer was ‘yes’.

This is but a small insight into why Hannah is so wonderful and why I was here in New York trying to get her to commit the rest of her life to the blubbering dolt in front of her.

With all the weight of secrecy and worry lifted from my shoulders, I pulled myself together and very much enjoyed the rest of the day, revealing the rest of my surprises with much more confidence and élan. We continued, hand in hand, around the park to the lake and literary walk, discussing when we’d get married and when we’d tell people. We decided, for the rest of the day, we’d keep it to ourselves.

In a slightly maverick move for a couple just that moment engaged, we played a game of chess on one of the park’s outdoor stone tables, but it had been one of the things we wanted to do in New York. In a metaphor for our married life together, I thought I knew what was happening but Hannah was thinking two or three moves further ahead than me.

I had told Hannah to bring a pretty frock on holiday with her, and I had brought my sharpest suit, so we put our glad rags on back at the apartment and set out to hit the town. As we arrived at the New York Palace Hotel’s restaurant Gilt, several large men in suits and sunglasses bustled past, forming a ring of muscle around an unseen dignitary. We were suitably impressed that we had been elbowed out of the way by the minders of someone who was obviously very important.

I was delighted that the restaurant chose to display their two Michelin stars on a plaque in the entrance, because it saved me from immodestly and clumsily telling Hannah what an auspicious establishment I’d brought her to. We were a little early so Hannah suggested we have a glass of champagne while we waited. “Never mind that,” said I in celebratory mood “let’s have a glass of champagne EACH, and blow the expense!”

The staff knew this was an engagement dinner and, to their eternal credit, went all out to make it special for us. They had given us the best table in the house and several waiters were keenly but unobtrusively attending to our every whim. There was one chap whose only job was to bring a spoon on a platter, which another waiter used to bathe our food in jus. The style of service was initially a little formal and stiff but they very quickly weighed us up and realised we wanted something more laid back and friendly. When Hannah returned from the bathroom, the head waiter chipped in with a cheeky “She didn’t make a run for it then?”

We went for a seven course tasting menu and I just can’t find enough superlatives for the food. Even familiar things like lamb were an absolute revelation – it wasn’t lamb only a bit tastier, but like nothing we had ever tasted before. I have no hesitation in saying it’s not only the best meal I’ve ever had but one of the best experiences I’ve ever had. By the time the infamous Congratulations Desert arrived, I’m afraid we could only manage a small taste of it.

We also had a wine pairing, which involved the friendly sommelier Patrick coming over with a different bottle for every course, and giving a short but insightful run down of the wine’s origins, production and character. We started the night very attentively taking all this in, saying things like “Mountains of Germany, right. Only 100 bottles a year, really? It is very punchy on the nose, yes,” – but those of you with even basic mathematical skills will have worked out that a different wine for every course, with a seven course menu, is quite a lot of wine. In short, we got hammered, and by the fourth course, I was eagerly greeting the arrival of our sommelier with a cry of “Paddy!” and saying more things like “Another red is it? Fill ‘er up!” Like the food, it was wine I had never tasted the like of before, with mellow, intense, complex flavours that Paddy (tried to) explain so knowledgably.

As we returned, a little unsteadily, to the streets of New York, I guided Hannah a few blocks to Radio City Music Hall. She had noticed a few days earlier that one of our favourite bands, New York’s own Yeah Yeah Yeahs, were playing there but I pointed out with sadness that it was sold out, knowing all the while I had bought tickets before we left London. What a charming devil. So we rocked and indeed rolled the night away with the leather clad New York hipsters, us in a sharp suit and pretty frock respectively, drunk on fine wine and love.

Related Posts:

• She Said Yes (Part 2)
• Half Decent Proposal: Part One
• Vintage Picnics: A Superior Way To Propose
• Mmmbop And Questions Popped – Part 2
• YouTube Proposals