7:05. Already late, I sat at the red light on the off ramp from 75 onto 14th. My phone buzzed. The text - "I'm here".
Just a few minutes later, I parked and walked through the beautiful street nightlife scenes until I saw the entrance. I caught my breath and walked up the stairs into the entry way to Joia.
The room was wide open, with a bar to the right, a dance floor/ sitting area straight ahead and dining room to the left. The lighting was dimmed, suitable for the dinner hour. The hostess greeted me, and as I told her my name, she said "she's right over there".
As I turned, I saw her silhouette that was caused by the candle glowing on the table, and had to catch my breath again. My first impression was right. As we sat and talked, I realized that she was both captivating in appearance and conversation.
We talked about "old Atlanta". The urban jazz softly embraced the conversation. She told me of all the restaurants and places she and her family would frequent, and which places had stood the test of time.
There was a perfect couple just across from us. He in his dark suit and she in her dinner dress that was complimented by perfect make-up and hair. They sat there, framed by the picture window that completed the scene with the view of the streetlight gently cutting through the leaves of the trees.
The mood of the room was soft, comfortable and private. There was no din to shout over. The servers stood as sentries, just far enough away to not intrude. Our server was perfect. She brought our drinks and smiled as she offered us a choice of appetizers.
M ordered the mussels, and rightfully so. No fishy taste here, these mussels were done up just right. Salty enough to make you want one more, subtly seasoned so you don't regret the decision.
We also tried the Gemilli Pasta. This tasty dish is wonderful. It doesn't have to be a side dish, it can stand on its own. Filling, creamy and delicious, its purpose is more than served.
As we dined, our conversation became more familiar. The introductory nervousness was gone, aided along by the atmosphere and comfort of the surroundings. Our main course arrived. The braised ribs and vegetables were as good as any I'd had before. I was swept by scent and taste into the favorite kitchens of my past.
I have never had ribs that tasted so much like roast in my life! Chuck Taylor (Joia's chef) had outdone my every expectation.
After trying the ribs, it hit me. I was comfortable. I was dining with someone I had met but once, and I felt comfortable. The atmosphere changed as the night waned on. The median age of the patrons went down, and the music got a little less soft. The people began to mingle near the bar or sit in the plush chairs that surrounded a soon to be dance floor.
I realized, with those observations, that this is the consummate date spot. A comfortable dinner enhanced by casual conversation that would give way to drinks and music and maybe dancing. All in one place.
Growing up, my parents would throw dinner parties. My mother would prepare her very best food. Prior to dining, the guests would gather in the living room and slowly move to the dining room. The soft music was a backdrop to casual conversation. The meal would be served, and everything would get quiet for a while as the guests savored the effect on their senses.
As the meal progressed, those who might not know one another grew more familiar. Invariably, as the meal drew to a close, someone would suggest retiring to another room, where the music would play. Later, the laughter would grow, and some guests would dance.
It was a fun place. There was no need to go somewhere else. The party had all that was required for a complete evening.
That was how I felt at Joia. It had all an evening required. No awkward, uncertain "Where would you like to go now?" decisions. This place offers more than a dinner date. It offers a dinner party.
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