When it comes to romantic dining, the amorous flame of my most perfect dreams would be habitually starry-eyed and hungrily subdued with a couple of barbacoa tortas from a taco truck and a medio litro of Coca-Cola with one straw as Selena’s “Como la Flor” rhapsodizes in the warm background, the hum of the generator powering both the outdoor lights and our newfound passion.
Sadly, that flavorful side of Eros is seemingly best left to the unwritten fiction of my heart as most perspective partners, especially when it comes to celebrations of sentiment, prefer to be dined finely and, let’s be honest, someone in my grotesque position is in no place to argue. So when I was lucky enough to escort a renewed crush to an early Valentine’s dinner, I figured it was time to give the ardor-filled atmosphere of Charleston’s a heart-wrenchingly bathetic try.