My first dating-app date took place at the far end of the bar at the BearTooth Grill. We each ordered one beer. I don’t remember much about the man or the date except that I was nervous, he was kind, and I knew within the first few minutes I wouldn’t see him again.
Over the next seven years, I went on a lot of first dates. I went to bars, to restaurants, coffee shops, breweries, dog parks, ski trails, and once, a hot yoga class (memorable, but not recommended). Through a few dating apps, I met dozens of men I likely never would have crossed paths with otherwise: archaeologists, ski bros, longshoremen, llama breeders (okay, only one of those), outdoor guides, divorcees, dads, doctors, or some combination thereof. Most were pleasant. A good handful made me laugh. A smaller handful warranted more dates.
Anyway, this isn’t a column about dating; it’s a column about food. I learned a lot from all these dates, including what kind of dining experience different types of dates demand.
The First (or blind) Date: “The interview”
For a true first date, I wanted to control the time investment. A full meal was out of the question—sometimes you learn it’s a no in five minutes. The goal there is a graceful exit.
I’m not much of a drinker, so bars weren’t my default, though they’re a good option if both are drinkers. The bartender at Fiori D’italia makes excellent cocktails. And if you like a dive and/or playing darts, I always feel like the female bartenders at Crossroads in midtown have my back.
I usually preferred an activity, such as a dog walk, which could be as long or short as I wanted. If it was going well, I’d suggest a low-stakes bite after that, like nachos in the bar area at Rustic Goat, ice cream at Wild Scoops, or tacos at Serrano’s.
For what it’s worth, while grabbing coffee makes logical sense as a first date, those meet-ups always felt more like networking than dating. I realized just the thought of suggesting coffee told me I wasn’t truly interested.
Finally, I always preferred being next to someone, rather than across from them. Being shoulder to shoulder with someone, like on a walk or seated at a bar, meant we were experiencing the world the same way. Being across from someone felt like an interview, and too easy to overthink eye contact.
If You’ve Been Chatting a While
Once I was genuinely interested, I’d opt for a longer activity or full meal, but not one that would throw any curveballs. That is, nothing super messy, overly spicy, or slurpy. Those aren’t bad qualities in foods, but there is already a lot going on during the first few interactions with someone. For me, I didn’t also want to have to think about spilling or exhaling fire.
This was also the period when I’d watch for food-related red flags. For instance, I once went hiking on a second or third date with someone who pulled out raw broccoli and air fried edamame as a snack at the Raven Glacier atop Crow Pass. I knew right then, as I ate my peanut butter M&Ms, it wouldn’t work out. On the contrary, one guy earned a compliment on his order at So Thai by the owner, leading to a delicious lesson about Thai cuisine and a memorable meal.
Dates Three through Five
By this point, I was usually comfortable enough to suggest whatever I actually craved, which could mean Kami Ramen (delicious, but high splatter likelihood), Sushi & Sushi (unattractively large mouthfuls), or Mandala for Indian (garlicky). I always offered to split or take turns paying the bill.
If they were really special, I’d suggest my all-time favorite date: The Mountain Burrito. This date entails grabbing burritos at Xalos (chicken fajita with chipotle salsa for me), throwing them in a day pack, hiking up a mountain, and having dinner with a view. I can count on one hand the number of men who made it to Mountain Burrito level, and I’m now married to one of them.
I’m Taking Myself on a Date
The world that opens up to you when dining alone is remarkable. I’m more likely to strike up a conversation with a stranger, the staff seem friendlier, and I’m generally more observant of small joys around me. My most frequent self-date is riding my bike somewhere that’ll serve me a little treat, like to Concoction Breads and Provisions on a Saturday morning. In the evening, especially while I’m traveling, I like to sit at the bar with a glass of wine and ask the bartender what dish they recommend. Ginger is a local favorite for this. Sometimes I’ll bring my book or notebook for moral support, but it’s 50/50 if I pull it out.
Once You’re Official
Once you’re deep in your feels for someone, you’ll probably eat out both for convenience and special occasions.
For convenience, I like to try ethnic restaurants in strip malls, which is where Anchorage hides its best food. If you haven’t been to My Shawarma House, this is your sign. For occasions to get dressed up and have longer conversations, I suggest the downstairs bar at Whiskey and Ramen, which serves a full menu while being dark and intimate; or the two-tops on the bar side of Crush Bistro, because their specials are always good and those small tables are somehow more fun.
It was a long road from that nervous first beer, but these days, my favorite food dates are grabbing breakfast burritos at Jerry’s and eating them in the car, “dressed up” in hiking clothes, on the way out of town for an adventure.
Jenny Weis writes for a variety of Alaska nonprofits and causes in between keeping up on Alaska's doughnut scene, sliding on snow, and gawking at cool plants and rocks along local trails.
