A Blithe PALATE

Game Night

Hubby's threshold for Pictionary is exactly three rounds. Beyond that and his blood pressure shoots to 149/89. The first time we played, we were vacationing with his sister and her in-laws in North Carolina. He elected to draw on the first round and drew a big, blobby, misshappen oval with four circles underneath and a circle extending from the back. How was I supposed to derive that this was an animal?

But I did and I even managed to figure out it was a bear. Hubby nodded vigorously when I yelped, "Bear!" However, he kept stabbing at the picture with his pen, urging me on.

"Bear! I said bear! I said bear! It's a bear it's a bear it's a bear it's a bear, I said it's a bear it's a bear!"

Slowly, the sands in the hourglass trickled to an end.

Hubby turned to me and said calmly, "Grizzly bear." Then, inhaling deeply, "IF IT WASN'T A BEAR THE FIRST 23 TIMES YOU SAID IT, WHY DID YOU THINK IT WOULD BE A BEAR ON THE 24TH TIME?"

Now, if you watch "Family Guy," you will find an episode featuring Stewie and a Pictionary board horrifyingly and hilariously familiar. It's not the first time cartoon and Emil have emulated each other: there's also a scene out of "Screwed the Pooch" when Brian wails along with a baby in a restaurant that...well, never mind.

So, we lost that round. On the second round, I served as the artist. The word was "seaweed." I drew a sushi platter with chopsticks, intending to point out the nori. Okay, see what happens when you have a foodie try to draw? Emil's sister drew an eye and a weed. Needless to say, we lost.

Next round, Hubby drew. We lost, yet again.

"ANGRY!" he roared. "ANGRY!"

"Yes, I know you are!"

"THE ANSWER! THE ANSWER WAS ANGRY!"

"Well then you should have drawn an arrow and pointed it at yourself!"

So, we do not play Pictionary well as a team.

We hosted a group of friends for board games last Saturday and began the night with Pictionary. Of course, several of us spent fifteen minutes looking for the "grizzly bear" card to lay it on top as a gift for Hubby. He figured out he was being had. Hubby does not like Pictionary.

Now, sit him in front of a Monopoly board, and he's all smiles. That's because he's one of those Monopoly savants who knows statistics about which properties are the most profitable, and which squares people are more likely to land on. He's also sneaky: he'll offer people "sweetheart" deals which turn out to be useless. Once he's got the orange and red properties, he'll build hotels. It's usually over for most challengers in a few rounds. One secret to a successful marriage: don't own a Monopoly board.

The women went for several rounds of Cranium and far more laughter than was heard from the dining room, where the men had convened to build houses and hotels, and pass Go.

Game nights are casual so we made a platter of sandwiches: avocado slices paired with crisp bacon on grilled sourdough panini; chicken salad sandwiches with white truffle oil, pine nuts and golden raisins; and slices of seared flank steak with horseradish and gorgonzola crumbles in toasted baguettes. Desserts were cream puffs and chocolate dipped strawberries -- finger foods that are easy to pick up and eat in one bite, freeing participants to engage in the normal lunacy of acting out clues, drawing, answering trivial factoids and crushing would-be developers.

SHF #16: V-Day Chocolate Dipped Strawberries

V-Day is not for the weak. It's a holiday that winnows out the inferior foodie. You don't go out on V-Day for dinner unless you have the intestinal fortitude to do battle - with the traffic, the restaurant, the poor, harried servers, the poor, harried cooks, and the worst traits that human beings can muster in one day, in one room, in two hours. And most of all, you don't go out on V-Day for dinner unless you have reservations.

My various restaurant friends tell me it's the day they dread most and the one, other than Mother's Day, that makes them seriously consider giving up the job. I usually make reservations a year in advance; and yes, while I am OCD, this is also a logical thing to do; it gives me options and it's far easier to cancel a Valentine's Day dinner reservation than it is to make one when the time rolls around.

Ah you ask, isn't it Hubby's job to do this? Hell no. I know better than to set the man up for failure. He's already done V-Day penance; he's already proven his ability to make reservations; and since we are now married, I don't feel the need to have him prove he can jump hoops. Plus, he's got more important things to do -- like pick up wine and write my V-Day love letter (a male friend thought this was an easy out gift until I pointed out that picking up a gift is far easier than writing a sincere [because we know when a letter is insincere and woe betide you if it isn't] and thoughtful love letter). No need to further confuse him with trivial things like dinner.

As neither of us were inclined to leave home I cancelled our reservations and we indulged in some of our favorite dishes: lobster risotto, steamed sea bass, chocolate dipped strawberries and a big gorgeous bottle of Oregon pinot noir.

And as it happens, this decision dove-tailed perfectly with joining Sugar High Friday #16, hosted by Jennifer of Taste Everything Once. Now, I'm horribly late to this party -- but Jennifer was kind enough to let me come anyway. Jennifer challenged us to create aphrodisiac-inducing sweets for this edition of SHF; and what better holiday to create stirring desserts than for Valentine's Day?

Chocolate is de rigeur for Valentine's Day. Even cheap drugstore chocolates in heart shaped boxes sell out on Valentine's Day! And why not? Of the 300 chemicals inherent in chocolate, one notable chemical is phenyl ethylamine, an amphetamine that releases natural opiates in the brain -- the same chemical present in the brain when you are falling in love. Lush, fat red strawberries -- which are aphrodisiacs -- feature prominently in most sensual menus. Consider this cover from the book Intercourses: An Aphrodisiac Cookbook.

Thus, my contribution: Chocolate Dipped Strawberries. Boring? Trite? Overused? Absolutely. But some things are classics. Now, just because it's been done before doesn't mean it can't be tweaked for a little fun, right? These strawberries were double dipped -- first in white chocolate, then the "girls" were dipped in a pink-tinted white chocolate for dresses while the "boys" got a second coating in bittersweet chocolate for tuxedos; buttons were dotted on with toothpicks. If you're so inclined and ambitious (I am neither being naturally lazy), you can paint a bow tie on the boys and dot a pink pendant on the girls. I prefer doing only as much as necessary so I can start eating.

Come on. You know you want one...

And while you're at it, check out the Round Up of amazing desserts!

More Than This

Would you indulge me? This isn't the usual fare...

Over a phone line:
She: "When you get here, do you want to pot orchids with me?"
He: "Sure. But I'd rather just hold your hand."

Imagine two people. They have adored, lived, laughed, fought, explored, enjoyed, engaged and tumbled together. They love each other, in their comprehension of that feeling; they say "I love you" frequently, but they sometimes don't remember what it used to mean. It's a cliché now, a habit, invariably followed by the automatic response, "I love you, too." They don't remember any longer the agony, the sheer terror of uttering those words the first time, or the delicate, melting sweetness of hearing the corresponding (and hoped for) answer. They've forgotten the passion of the early months, the stirring, vibrant radiance when they were all nerve endings and feeling. Now used to one another, they sometimes take things for granted; things like respect, and consideration, thoughtfulness and care. They've forgotten that moment when they met, when all the infinite vagaries of "Are you the one?" became the declarative, "You are the one."

But this sort of intensity is not sustainable. Where the hell is there to fall but out when one has fallen in love? Falling in love flames hot but lacks stamina. But to love steadily, on the other hand, quietly consumes everything in its path at measured pace, until it rages into a wildfire.

How can years go by before they comprehend what it means to love, to love, with such force and intoxication and realization? To love with ferocity because they've discovered that in facing a trial, they can wreak havoc and cry surrender; or they can press on and forge themselves in that fire and come out the other side a stronger piece of steel, a marriage folded and pressed upon itself a thousand times until the mettle -- yes, mettle -- is unbreakable, unshatterable?

In the shadow of a tribulation, they discover to their surprise that "I love you" can resonate in different colors, shades that spin in a kaleidescope of meaning. It doesn't blaze with the red hot passion of an earlier part of their love affair; it doesn't fade in mellow pastel shades of occasional indifference and comfortable habit; instead, it grows slowly golden, sparking warmly with the embers of their collective history, gathering with it the force and effect of deeper feelings which have no place in a polite and suppressed society: it is not seemly to be besotted; we are too cynical a world.

Imagine two people...who love each other.

In the dark:
She: "Did you know orchids are edible?"
He reaches out and holds her hand.

Bouncing back.

I was asked recently why I haven't been cooking or feeding the blog. I think it took every ounce of willpower not to reach out with both hands and throttle the person asking me. He didn't know, couldn't know that my life in the last four weeks has been a morass of deadlines, manic work days and nights, stressful meetings, and a personal heartbreak.

I love cooking and I love blogging. Alas, as I've mentioned before, the day job intrudes and I knew two months ago that the current roster of projects on the work group's collective M&A platter meant that life's daily pleasures (cooking and blogging) were going to take a momentary back seat. And boy have they. I think the last few entries were written during the rare down times I've been able to enjoy -- a month ago!

Blessedly, thankfully, the end is in sight...so thank you to all the patient friends and readers (L. especially!) for encouraging me and promising not to abandon me (I have abandonment issues, have I mentioned? Nah, not really, but that seemed a good place to stick that comment).

Up next: we re-start the blog with Valentine's Day of course.