We go to Palm Court to whisper sweet nothings. This intimate space speaks of yesteryear, a candlelit room framed by picture windows overlooking the golf course, exotic floral displays, the quiet melodies of a Steinway, even a personally engraved matchbook for our party.
It's impossible not to melt in each other's eyes as our tuxedoed server prepares our entrees tableside, au flambé as appropriate. We know what these dishes are without any primer -- steak au poivre with cognac and tricolor peppercorns, duckling aux framboise in raspberry bigarade, lobster Lord Randolph with fresh mushrooms, truffles and Courvoisier. An evening of enchantment begins with escargots Bourguignonne on toasted brioche, and ends with bananas Foster.
Or, if we're really lucky, the evening's just begun.
