There are evenings that feed the soul. And then there are evenings that feed the soul and make your taste buds sing a Broadway medley under a twilight sky. My recent visit to Half Moon, perched gracefully along the Hudson River in Dobbs Ferry, NY, was exactly that—a romantic escapade that began with cocktails and ended with a sparkling glass of Prosecco and slightly watery eyes (yes, from emotion, not from the horseradish crema).
Raising a Glass to Love and Charred Octopus: A Romantic Date Night at Half Moon on Hudson – Restaurant Reviews with Photographer Maxwell Alexander – LGBTQ+ Travel – Adventure Travel – Presented by Alluvion Vacations
It was all a surprise from my husband—a thoughtful gesture that began with the words “just drinks” and turned into a culinary adventure that had us both swooning like we were in an episode of Bridgerton, but, you know, gay and slightly tipsy.
Mixology Magic & Starry-Eyed Sips
We started our evening at the bar, which, might I say, could easily qualify as the laboratory of some flavor alchemist. The cocktails were nothing short of sorcery: one vibrant, citrusy elixir garnished with a perfect orange slice, the other glowing gold and humming with notes of summer stone fruits and something delightfully herbal.
Whoever is running the mixology program at Half Moon deserves a Nobel Prize in Date Night Enhancement.
Small Bites, Big Drama
We only meant to stop in for a drink. Really. But then the golden-hour light hit the river just right, casting reflections off the bridge like a promise—and suddenly, hunger felt poetic.
Our table quickly transformed into a gallery of edible sculptures. Each small bite was plated with the kind of architectural precision that made us pause before diving in (but only for a moment—this was no time for restraint). There was a slice of something rich and rustic, topped with a bright pickle and a swirl of tangy mustard—an homage to old-world charcuterie with just enough drama to be modern.
Nearby, golden spheres sat perfectly crisp, hiding a warm, smoky center that offered just the right kick—think paprika and spice wrapped in a crunchy shell. One bite and we were smitten. Elsewhere, a sweet-savory duet of roasted fruit and creamy blue cheese balanced atop charred edges, the kind of pairing that whispers we go way back.
And then there was a flaky little creation topped with tender flakes of something from the sea, kissed with herbs and something citrusy, as if it had just washed ashore with the tide and brought a chef along for the ride.
Each piece was a composition—color, texture, and flavor aligned like a love letter in bite-sized form. This wasn’t just a meal. It was an art show with snacks. And we were very enthusiastic patrons.
But nothing—nothing—could prepare us for the Charred Spanish Octopus. It arrived like a sculpture carved by flame, coiled atop a vivid smear of romesco that was smoky, nutty, and just the right kind of sultry. Scattered with Marcona almonds for a buttery crunch, and nestled into a bed of peppery arugula with a whisper of espelette pepper heat, it was a plate that didn’t just feed us—it flirted with us. Each bite was a Mediterranean love story, told with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing. If Poseidon opened a tapas bar, this would be his signature dish.
We thought we were full. Our buttons said no. Our hearts said burger. And thank the stars we listened.
The Juicy Climax: The Burger
Let me tell you: this burger was not playing around. Juicy, cheesy, and utterly unapologetic, it came stacked with crisp bacon, creamy avocado, and what I believe was a spiritual experience disguised as melted cheddar. The fries? Crisp and golden, with the kind of exterior crunch and interior fluff that could end wars.
The pickle spear on the side was the edible wink that said, “Yes, I’m extra. You’re welcome.”
The Glow-Up Moment
As the meal drew to a close, the sun dipped behind the Palisades, and a glass of Prosecco caught the candlelight like a starlet at a final curtain call. I looked across the table, at the man I’ve shared countless memories with, and found myself tearing up—not just because the food was magnificent (it was), or because the drinks were hypnotic (they were), but because love, when shared in a place this beautiful, feels even more profound.
Half Moon is more than a restaurant—it’s a love letter to the river, to the artisans behind every plate, and to the people who know how to create magic out of a Tuesday night. The romantic ambiance, the glow of string lights, the uninterrupted Hudson River views—it all conspires to make you feel like the most important person in the world.
And if you’re lucky, you’ll end the night with a sparkling flute in hand and someone handsome across from you who makes you cry happy tears.
