Of course, there was also the ex-husband, one of my favorite eating partners. In couples therapy, I felt such a loss, sobbing, “But now who will I eat with?”

And then there was the dinner that elicited the opposite feeling. Decades before any of those men, there was the date with a jazz musician at the now-closed Woodward’s Garden. I was working at a magazine as a food writer. He was handsome, extremely accomplished, smart and creative — everything I would have thought I wanted. But faced with a menu of beautiful things at my favorite restaurant, he ordered the chicken breast. In an instant, my light for him dimmed. 

Surely he doesn’t even recall that evening. But for 20 years, that moment — like a piece of overcooked poultry — has been seared into my brain.

Since then, I have half-joked about my chicken breast theory, a benchmark for dining character and date-ability. Ordering America’s most overused protein has come to signify the kind of man who, when it comes to eating (and maybe other things), might be a bit rigid. A person, who, at the risk of a dry and dull piece of meat, plays it safe.

There are stories of happily ever after too — some focused on the amount of food rather than the food itself. Spencer Horovitz, the chef of Hadeem, met his now-wife, Geena St. Andrew, on a pre-concert first date at Lers Ros. 

“I didn’t want her to see how much I normally overorder — you know restaurant people,” laughed Horovitz. “But it turned out, she was the same way!” They ordered so much they had to leave half the food behind. But the deal was truly sealed after the concert, when St. Andrew admitted that she too was still hungry. Horovitz swooned, and they headed to Grubstake for round two. He ordered an Oreo milkshake. She ordered chicken fingers “with a gallon of different dipping sauces” (and didn’t share).

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Some people are willing to play the long game and are proof it can work out. “An upside to marrying someone who has a very narrow palate is that I can see my influence over the long term,” said Miriam Wrobel, a SF native who grew up in a foodcentric family that dined at the likes of Chez Panisse. “When I started dating my husband 25 years ago, he only ate Red Delicious apples. And now he gets excited about new varietals. And whereas he used to order Curry Up Now, today he and the kids will even order from Pakwan without me.” (Wrobel proudly adds that she’s also gotten him to go from being a Republican to a Democrat.) 

Shannon Lundgren, CEO of Shannon’s Circle Matchmaking (opens in new tab), knows that food is a litmus test for many — to the point that she is adding the question of whether someone considers themselves a “foodie” to her client questionnaire. “It can be a deal breaker for a person who doesn’t want to spend the rest of their life having to navigate a partner who’s lactose intolerant or gluten-free,” she said. 

Lundgren had never heard that chicken breast could be a deal breaker, but she validated my concern. She’s a fan of the Big Five Personality Traits (opens in new tab), also known as OCEAN (Openness, Conscientiousness, Extraversion, Agreeableness, and Neuroticism), and says my theory indicates I’m looking for someone who’s open — maybe, like me, neurotically so. “Food choice can be a good proxy for adventure and palette,” she said. 

She also pointed out that I’m probably eliminating some of the wealthiest men in San Francisco. “There are some brilliant entrepreneurs who eat the same thing for breakfast, lunch, and dinner because it allows them to think less. It’s like Steve Jobs and his black turtleneck.” Financial stability be damned, I’d still rather date a food adventurer. 

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After mulling all of this over, I decided to get back in touch with the jazz musician, who’s now a friend, to see if he even remembered our date way back then. Maybe he had a “chicken breast of jazz” theory of his own. It’s very possible I admitted during the date that I was obsessed with Beyoncé, and he’d gotten the ick. 

As I figured, he had zero recollection of that evening’s order. Nor had he passed judgment about my own musical taste. “But when I was younger, there was definitely a time when I was a puritanical asshole, musically,” he admitted. “There was no pop music, there was no other music than jazz. But I would say I’m totally different now. After you live a while, you don’t have such superficial prejudgments.” 

Of course, I would never be so superficial. Starting now, that is. 

Also, there’s an update — and proof that people change. The jazz musician hasn’t had chicken since, well, possibly that very date decades ago. He’s a vegetarian now.