Wednesday 20 May 2015

A Date Night

Alone in a house. A fall evening and I've been stood up.

Yes, stood up.

The Captain, the one who never bought curtains for his apartment. The one who smelled of Hugo Boss left me hanging. Bitter? No. Well...okay a little. But also relieved, a little.

Alone in the house an I don't mind at all.

Date night for one ;-)

I peel off the dress I was wearing. I went through the trouble to put on make up too. I'll keep that. I did a good job on it, would be a shame to wash it away. Pulled on my grey yoga pants and a tee. No, a tank top. Hell I'm home, I can wear my prom dress if I wanted to!!

A flashback to my prom. I went with the guy who was voted "Most Likely to Succeed" after high school. I bet HE wouldn't have stood me up! Don't be bitter. Move on.

A violent crack of thunder and the pitter-patter of rain begins. A flash of lightening illuminates the house. I admit, my heart did leap. Thunder and lighting is exciting to me. Something about the world being taken over by itself for a moment and not by anyone else is awe-inspiring. Thunder and lighting can be creepy romantic. Scary and thrilling. 

I hear another sound. A gurgle. My tummy is seeking attention. It too has a mind of its own.

I tip-toe down the stairs and swing around the banister into the kitchen. A flash of lightening flickers through the kitchen window, oooh how lovely and mysterious nature is! 

I turned on the light in the hood of the stove. No need to turn on all the lights and kill the mood. 

I had planned a beautiful menu for that evening. An evening for two. Minus one. So a beautiful menu for one. I had already done my mise en place. Shallots diced, garlic minced, a bottle of Reisling chilling in the fridge. Yes, the wine.  

I mosey over to the china hutch and pull out one of mom's nice wine glasses. You know, the ones for company but not just any company...good company? Ya. Screw it. I'm good company! Cheers to date night!

A glug or two into the glass and plug in my ear buds. iPod, work your magic! The Beatles playlist. A little Twist and Shout on the kitchen tiles should get this party for one rolling.

I turn on the burner and swirl olive oil into the pan and allow it to warm up. I pulled the chicken breast I had marinating from that morning. I laid it in the hot fat and allowed it to sizzle away.  The aroma of woodsy rosemary fills my nose and my mind eats up the air anticipating how wonderful dinner will be.

In another skillet I repeat the process but this time adding shallots. What is it about the pungent smell of onions that evokes hunger? Garlic and mushrooms follow and I push it around with a wooden spoon.  

Arborio rice. Pearls of white grain. I scatter a palm full into the warm pan and swish it around in the infused olive oil. I sip my wine. I look at the glass and and I glance down at the sizzling pan. I tip the wheat coloured Reisling into the pan and the vigorous bubble begins.  I stir again and allow the liquid to absorb.

Risotto gently comes to life on the stove as I enjoy my beverage. The chicken takes her time cooking and growing delicious and brown.

Mmm risotto. It's a therapeutic dish I find. Its a dish that inevitably allows you to think and reflect as you cook it.  Slowly I splash my warm chicken stock over the beads of rice, turning it clockwise, then counterclockwise as it releases itself developing a rice with a lovely creamy consistency.

My mind wonders. What was he doing that was so important that he'd turn down my risotto? I mean, come one...it's risotto! It must be a good reason, I mean he is a Captain. I thought of a loving excuse and carried on swishing and swirling.

I'm Looking Through You, is next on the play list as I pour another glass of wine and simultaneously yank the fridge door out and pull out a wedge of Parmesan cheese.  I gently unwrap it and begin to grate away snowy curls of salty robust cheese. I held the shredded shards in my hand and dust it into a bowl on stand by. The perfume of milky cheese stays on my skin. I don't mind. I'm my date tonight.

The thunder grumbles and the rain pours heavily.  I hear the clinks as the drops smack against the drain pipes. Ting! Ting! Like bells from a dark cloudy heaven. Fresh sweet water trickles down the window pane as the evening turns to night.

My kitty Oreo S's her body around my ankles speaking fluent cat love with her meows and purrs. I look down at her lovingly as she sits staring up at me. She always knew precisely when to be around to keep me company. Like that girlfriend who called you right when you had a nasty fight with your boyfriend to say, "Uh, screw it! Let's get our nails done!" just to keep you distracted from the drama of life. Sweet Oreo.


The plump chicken breast waits on a side plate as I spoon in a generous knob of butter into my elegant dish. 

I watch the butter sigh an awe of relief as it melts and tumbles over and through the nooks and caverns of silky rice.  I gently lift and fold, blending the shiny yellow with the pale white watching the satin risotto come together. And as a final flourish I dusted the grated Parmesan cheese. A sweet perfume steamed up to my face and I breathed in deeply.  Decadent, smooth, just al dente. 

A rainy night alone.

I plated my meal, restaurant style. Slices of succulent chicken fanned delicately over a small mountain of risotto. A garnish? Why not, I do deserve a pretty plate.

I lit a candle and placed it on the coffee table and turned the fire place on. 

I sat on the floor, gently humming "And I love her" and dined.

Claps of thunder.
Flashes of lightening.
Satin white risotto.

Unexpected date night. 

An evening of storm and rain, alone in this house. Stood up. Yoga pants and candle light. Curled eyelashes and red lipstick. Paul and John whispering in my ear. 

A dinner for one.

xo,

The Girl who Likes to Cook






Wednesday 6 May 2015

If I could...I would

How I would...And I could...if you would...will you let me?

Let's see...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If I could pour all of you into a pristine glass bowl,
Whisking you off your feet, spoiling you
With sugary sweet and perfume of vanilla
Making you feel a happiness as light as air

I would.

If I could peel away your layers of hurt and pain
Shielding you from hellish oven of life, full of scrutiny and sorrow
Polishing and buffing away the parts of your 
Bruised soul that steal your handsome smile 

I would.

If I could light a flame of love underneath you
Driving you the fiery edge of lust undeniable
Igniting your passion, boiling to your hearts brim with desire
Filling you with inspiration delicious beyond compare

I would.

If I could hold you on an ivory white plate
Like the last slice of something sweet
Treasuring you...

Every crack
Every crumb

The smoothness of your hands on my skin
The cherry blush of your lips
The dusty brown coarseness of your hair 
Slipping through my finger tips

If I could savor every last piece of you...

I would.



xo,

The Girl who Likes to Cook