Date Night is a multipart road map for everyone who wants a nice evening out, but has no time to plan it. It’s for people who want to do more than just go to one restaurant and call it a night. It’s for overwhelmed parents who don’t get out often; for friends who visit the same three restaurants because they’re too afraid to try someplace new; and for busy folks who keep forgetting all the places they’ve driven past, heard about, seen on social and said, “Let’s remember that place next time we go out.”
Years ago, when my marriage was still in single-digit territory and my child (now a teen) was a toddler, an old friend and I were talking about the ways the years had changed us. When we met, we were young and single: He smoked cigarettes, and I wore miniskirts with chunky black heels. Down the road, we each got married, had a child and became each other’s go-to babysitter.
“Having a kid turns marriage into a small business,” he said casually, as if imparting common knowledge. “Everything becomes about managing logistics and finances. Staying married really comes down to whether or not you can run a small business together successfully.”
At the time, I dismissed his comment outright, as he has a tendency to be cynical and callous. What about love and companionship? And learning how to share a life? With 20 years of wedded bliss now in the rearview mirror, I’ve come to understand how annoyingly right he was. In this season of life, my marriage mostly feels like a small business — except when we’re out, just the two of us, supporting other small businesses.
Soaking pool at Holiday Salon & Bathhouse
Stop 1: Holiday Salon & Bathhouse
The faint scent of indoor pool came to me shortly after my husband Dom and I entered Highland Yards and left the ass-cold night on the other side of the door. It felt a little odd to start a Date Night in our around-the-house clothes with backpacks slung over our shoulders — the factory-model version of ourselves. We’d get gussied up après spa.
In addition to a hair salon and spa services, Holiday — a gorgeous Finnish-inspired salon and bathhouse — offers two spaces to sweat and get wet: The roomy bathhouse, which includes a saltwater soaking pool for up to 10 people, and the soak and sauna room, perfect for one or two people, tops.
I reserved the latter. After a quick shower, per Holiday’s rules, we toweled up and let the heat of the far infrared sauna seep into our skin. It was so quiet in there we could hear Dom’s mysterious digestive system, which was thankfully drowned out by a train rolling by on nearby tracks. There are few sounds that relax me more than a train whistle.
Once we started to drip and droop, we added bath salts to the soaking tub, got in and turned on the jets. Instead of drying off, I lay down on the cedar floor, and even that was heaven. I so rarely lie still.
One hour passed slowly, and we spent our final 10 minutes getting dressed for drinks and dinner. It was a tad too toasty to layer back up after all that soaking and showering, but when we stepped back into the night, the cold didn’t cut into me.
Patio at Rosemary & Beauty Queen
Stop 2: Rosemary & Beauty Queen
“This is the spot,” Dom said of Rosemary & Beauty Queen’s patio during an end-of-fall hangout. It was sunset, and the LED lighting under the benches and railing of the backyard oasis matched the pinkish-purple sky. At the time, it was hard to imagine why anyone would choose to be inside over being amid palm trees, turf and good tunes. It’s easier to imagine in December.
Indoors at RBQ is currently the spot. Specifically, the living-room-like nook of the early-1900s East Nashville cottage between the front window and the (defunct but fantastic) double-sided fireplace, where multicolored Christmas lights, tabletop tea candles and vintage holiday yard decor create the warmest, fuzziest place I’ve parked myself all season.
(Seriously. I took a picture and made it my laptop wallpaper, and every time I minimize a screen, I hear 30 Rock’s Liz Lemon saying, “I want to go to there.”)
Fresh from Holiday, I wasn’t quite ready to replace the toxins I’d just sweat out, which made the Wink & Nod — with blackberry puree, almond syrup, lime and mint — the exact right drink at the exact right time. I straight-up out-ordered Dom, who’s on a mezcal kick lately and went with the spicy paloma. They weren’t kidding about the spice, but he loved the heat. When we’d sipped our way down to nothing but ice, we peeled ourselves off the leather couch, took our empty glasses to the bar and made the three-minute walk to dinner.
Veal Scallopine at Margot Café & Bar
Stop 3: Margot Café & Bar
When plotting our 20-year anniversary dinner, making reservations at new and shiny restaurants didn’t feel right. I wanted to celebrate somewhere that’s been around as long as we have, so I searched the Scene’s Best of Nashville food and restaurant winners from 2005. It was total nostalgia overload of long-gone restaurants I loved — South Street, Yellow Porch and Mirror. Margot Café & Bar, which opened in 2001, was all over the list, placing third behind Mambu and Zola for Best Original Menu and first in the Best Chef and Best Nashville Restaurant categories.
On the heels of the recent news that Margot will serve its last plate of housemade potato chips and aioli in June, reading through the 2005 winners was a much-needed reminder that locally owned restaurants — unlike the small business of marriage — aren’t supposed to last forever. Things change, priorities shift, and even when there are butts in the seats and local produce at the door, it’s not a gentle way to make a living. Good for owner Margot McCormack. She fed us well. It’s bold to let go and imagine a different life for yourself. I will not shake my fist at Nashville’s ever-evolving restaurant landscape; I’ll just make reservations.
Our server was as interesting as anything on the menu: Well-educated on every dish, as all Margot waitstaff tends to be, he was curt and concise, with a rapid-fire delivery of specials and a very specific way of setting plates down to make sure the food was presented just so.
“Y’all forgive my compulsive behavior,” he said as he arranged our artisan cheese plate between us. Dozen Bakery toast in the back, San Simón cheese to the left and pot of plum jam at 3 o’clock. Then he turned my side plate so the rose design was on the left.
When I asked him to bring me a glass of red with dinner, it occurred to me that I trust Margot Café completely. After years of couple’s dinners, big birthday celebrations and sunny patio brunches for two, I know I’m going to be taken care of on every level. Even someone like me, who may or may not wrestle with control issues, could ignore the menu, describe a few preferences and be thrilled with anything executive chef Hadley Long and his staff send out of what looks like 3 square feet of kitchen.
And I would’ve done that, if I wasn’t dead set on the ditalini that night, scattered with leeks and a dollop of pesto on top for me to stir in myself, plus big, impossibly melty local mushrooms and salty hits of cheese throughout. Pasta and cold nights go together like Dom’s medium-rare tri-tip steak with tomato bread pudding croutons. Like maple walnut cheesecake that’s neither too cold nor too room temp. Like French-press coffee and a cup someone has been thoughtful enough to warm.
