Lorne looked up at the manager and nodded. "This certainly makes it easier – a no-brainer, actually. Please, let's have the chef do that."

"Excellent! I'll inform your waiter." Michael nodded toward our glasses. "May I send the sommelier in to top up your Champagne?"

I put a hand on top of mine and shook my head as Lorne replied. "We're fine, thank you."

Michael acknowledged, and Lorne continued, "I've been unable to find out who the chef is."

"He wishes to remain in the background until we're well-established – new venture, reputation and all of that."

"Yes, of course."

After Michael had left, Lorne closed the menu, placed it with the other, and laid the list of specials on the table between us. When I had examined it, I said, "Appears not to be arranged in order of service – the foie gras before the snapper."

"Looks like the entrées are listed first, then the mains."

"Yes, of course. But even there, with its richness, the pressed duck might better follow the venison."

"True, unless the foie gras, duxelles and Madeira sauce of the Wellington are richer."

I nodded while finishing a bite of caviar blini and pointing to the list. "The crab ravioli. Isn't that the plate Feenie presented when he beat Morimoto? When he won his Iron Chef."

"Yeah, I was just thinking that. Watched that episode so many times – a real classic. That's what hooked me into reviewing dining."

"Mmmm. The crab was always my choice at Lumière – until the quality changed when Rob left." Oh, God! Then the restaurant failed. Was it part of...

Lorne's words interrupted my thoughts, "My choice, as well. I'd love to have a full serving of it rather than a half – bring back the memories."

"Crazy, isn't it? From owning what was often called Canada's finest restaurant, he descended to running the test kitchen in a chain."

"Part owner. Word is he got squeezed out in a partnership dispute."

I nodded, then smiled as I looked again at the list of specials. "The octopus bacon with the snapper reminds me of C."

"Yeah, Chef Clark's creation – part of the move to sustainable seafood. What amazing innovators he and Harry were. Cutting-edge restaurants with environmental consciousness. Such fond memories of the times we shared in them." Lorne sighed, leaned and kissed my cheek, cupping my left breast as he whispered, "Failed restaurants. Change subject."

I hummed a long moan and pressed my hands onto his for a while before I lifted it away. "Later. Someone may come in."

"Umm, yeah." He sat up and glanced toward the door, then back at the list. "Appears Nuance is following their locally-sourced lead. Wouldn't be surprised if all the accompanying wines are from the Okanagan and the Island."

"Ooh! That would be nice." I looked at my glass of Möet, snickering to myself as I pictured the sommelier scrambling to adjust his wine matches. "But they served an ordinary Champagne rather than a more exciting local choice, so maybe the sommelier is old school."

We carried on our banter while we enjoyed our amuse-gueules, and Lorne finished his Champagne. I slid my unfinished glass across to him, partly to show moderation but mostly because of its lack-lustre nature.

Lorne pursed his lips at it and shook his head. "Thanks, but no. I'm amazed that it remains the world's best-selling Champagne."

I shrugged. "Marketing."

"Yeah. Wouldn't make it on quality, would it? I always marvel at the way it happened. Bond's Champagne choice went from Taittinger to Möet when Hollywood corrupted Ian Fleming and sold marketing placements in the first movie."

"In most of the following Bond movies, as well, and half a century later, Möet still reaps the benefits. The unthinking masses are difficult to –"

I paused at the voice behind us, "Shall I clear these away, sir?"

"Yes, please."

When the busboy had removed the service, the waiter arrived and set a plate in front of each of us, announcing, "Seared Texada scallops with red peppers. Enjoy."

As he left, the sommelier approached and presented a bottle to Lorne. "The 2012 Liquidity Viognier, sir."

"Splendid. One of our favourites."

"I've seen you at some of the tastings but never found an opportunity to introduce myself – I'm Lance."

Lorne nodded. "I prefer anonymity, but K works."

While Lance poured, I examined my scallop dish, leaned forward and gently fanned the aromas toward me. "This smells and looks superb; such creative plating. Who's the executive chef?"

"We keep the front and back separate, and with our size, I've not yet met many of the culinary team. I've heard he's from back east, though."

When the sommelier had finished pouring and left, I raised my glass to Lorne. "To us."

After we had nosed and sipped the wine, Lorne stood and shot photos of his dish, turning it to capture the presentation from different angles. Then he had me slice a piece from a scallop for another series of shots, and I chuckled inwardly at his playing for the webcams.

We finally turned our attention to our eating, and after savouring my first bite, I said, "Absolutely superb! So few manage to perfect this – usually end up a bit rubbery and bland."

"Cooked too long. The secret is a very hot skillet. A minute per end, sear a golden crust and retain the moisture and complex flavours."

"Yeah, any longer; they sweat, toughen and lose their subtlety."

We carried on, enjoying the edgy harmony between the scallops and the peppers and how well the wine accompanied. Shortly after we had finished, the door latch clicked behind us, and the busboy entered.

As he left, the waiter arrived and set our next course in front of us. "Dungeness crab ravioli with truffle beurre blanc. The chef decided to do full portions, dividing three ravioli being too awkward. Bon appétit."

The sommelier replaced the waiter, and he presented a bottle to Lorne. "You'll find this 2013 Fool's Mate Chardonnay a superb match."

"Another of our favourites."

After the sommelier had left, I pointed to our plates as Lorne stood to shoot more food porn photos. "The chef could have done one raviolo, but that would be seen as skimping. Two would lack artistry, so three makes sense."

"Indeed, plating adds to the enjoyment."

A while later, I looked up from savouring a bite. "He got the mayonnaise almost right – missing the touch of Japanese tang I remember with Feenie's – but still superb."

Lorne nodded. "He aced the delicate texture of the pasta."

"Ummm, and the beurre blanc with just the right touch of truffle. Exquisite balance."

We carried on in this manner through the snapper, foie gras and duck, and after our settings had again been cleared, the waiter rolled a trolley up to our table. "The venison Wellington. Do you wish to shoot photos before I begin carving, sir?"

"Oh, yes, please." Lorne stood and shot another series as the waiter carved and plated.

When he sat, the sommelier approached with another bottle and presented it. "The 2016 Martin's Lane Simes Vineyard Pinot Noir, sir. A superb match."

The pinot noir with the venison was a magical pairing, the Madeira sauce adding dimension to the complexity. As with previous courses, Lorne occasionally paused between bites and sips to say a few words into his phone's voice note app.

After our plates and glasses had been cleared away and the tablecloth was cleaned with a mini carpet sweeper, the waiter entered and asked, "May I tell you about the chef's dessert selections?"

I blew out my cheeks and patted my belly. "It would only tempt me to over-indulge." I giggled. "Not that I haven't already."

"And you, sir?"

"As with my wife, thanks."

Wife? Oh, God! But part of the ruse. Then, why did Miss Fanny purr and warm?

"May we bring you a Porto, a Cognac, whatever? Maybe some coffee?"

"Snifters of Armagnac, perhaps." Lorne looked at me, tilting his head.

"One only. I'll take a sip from yours."

The waiter nodded and left. Then Lorne put an arm around my shoulder and leaned his head on mine. "A difficult review to write. I've not before been faced with having to use so many superlatives."

"Ummm. What was your favourite?"

"You." He tilted my head up and toward him, and our lips merged. Half a minute later, as we lip-nibbled, the door latch clicked, and the waiter and sommelier entered while we rearranged ourselves.

The waiter placed a slender pallet on the table between us. "The chef's selection of chocolate and fruit confections. Enjoy."

Setting a large snifter in front of Lorne and turning a bottle's label to show him, the sommelier said as he poured, "Bas Armagnac Darroze 1989."

Then left alone again, Lorne picked up the snifter and cradled it in his large hand, swirling it slowly before placing it under my nose. "Always more pleasure in a fine old brandy's bouquet than in its taste."

I gently inhaled the heady aromas. "Ummm, wonderful. Buttered brioche, figs, baking spices. Hints of truffles, leather and struck flint."

He continued warming and gently swirling the deep amber liquid, pausing from time to time to allow us to enjoy the increasingly wondrous complexity of the bouquet and share nibbles of the confections.

When we were satisfied, Lorne shuffled his chair to nestle against mine, pulled me into a side hug and eased my head to his chest. A brief while later, our blissful bubble burst with the door latch click and Michael's voice, "I'm told you've enjoyed your dinner."

"Ummm, one superb after another the entire evening." Lorne unwrapped his arm from me and straightened up. "Everything. The food, the wines, the service, the ambience."

"We're delighted to have pleased you." He held up a royal blue canvas bag with NUANCE printed on its side in a slightly deeper blue. "In here are the menus and wine list, as well as descriptions and tasting notes for selected menu items you didn't have the opportunity to enjoy. Also, there are links to jpg images that you're free to use with no need to credit their source."

"Thank you." Lorne took the bag by its straps and looked in. "What about information on the specials?"

"Those are constantly changing. Besides, very few of our clients opt for them. Our target market is those who want the refined atmosphere and a sense of quality without the necessarily-high prices of our daily specials."

"Yes, understandable." Lorne pulled out his wallet, spread the pocket and leafed through the contents. "Can you take care of this? Or should I have the waiter do it?"

"No need. It's on the house. Marketing expense."

"For the servers' gratuities, then."

"Also covered."