Foodie House (which I was granted permission to shamelessly plug) and I will be doing a bit of “babysitting” around here while Pam is off gallivanting around the hills of New Zealand, wine-tasting and forgetting about the rest of us (as she should), for her much anticipated honeymoon.
Foodie House is a food blog of recipes and stories of either food-crafting or motherhood, but always something I’m inspired to write about. If the previous two things don’t fit the bill of inspiration, I will write about whatever does. I’m a storyteller and my joy is to bring food to life with humorous narrative and thoughtful photography.
When Pam asked me to do this “blog foster care”, as she calls it, I was thrilled. Pam is one very special lady. She’s well-spoken, witty and can review wine like nobody’s business. She keeps me laughing with her sense of humor and outlook on life. And if I could visit anybody’s backyard, in these 50 great states, it would be hers. I’m hoping someday we can crack open a choice bottle of wine and shoot the breeze in her well-cultivated garden. So here’s to you Pam, dear! I thoroughly hope you and your hubby are enjoying the rolling green hills, vineyards and wines of
. New Zealand
So let’s get romantic, shall we? Since I am feeling inspired by Pam’s wedding and honeymoon, I thought I would share a snippet of the night the Hubs and I got engaged, accompanied by a wine review and some snacks. Who doesn’t love snacks?
Over the past eleven years of marriage, the Hubs and I have been through a lot together. We’ve lived many places. We’ve adopted children and had one the old-fashioned way. We’ve had adventures together (parenting being the greatest), made bad choices, made good choices; have had yelling matches and making-up matches. We agree that we are each other’s best friend and help-mate. We give each other a boost when we need it and a chewing out when we need that too. All in all, we love each other.
We had dated a mere 4 months and he popped the question. We were head over heals for one another. We knew after a month of dating that we were destined to tie the knot…and we were only 21 years old.
Some thought us crazy and we were kinda freaked out by it too. I mean, we had just met. We were not even friends before we dated. It was like, “Hi. I think I love you.”
The first week of November of 1998, the Hubs (then, “the Boyfriend”), broke his arm playing football with a bunch of his buddies. He broke it bad enough that he had to have a plate and screws put in. I played nursemaid to him, giving him his medications and letting him crash at my place. There’s nothing a man loves more than a woman taking care of him- that and a delicious meal.
About a week later, he tells me he wants to take me out for a nice dinner on the Plaza (we were living in
at the time). I was excited as it had been a rough week with his broken arm and I had just started cosmetology school the same week. Oh, and I also had a horrible case of laryngitis. So, I could barely speak. Not so great when your have to answer the most important question of your life! Kansas City
He took me to a special little restaurant called the Classic Cup. It’s my kind of place- crisp white tablecloths, shimmering stemware and excellent service. I ordered the vegetable lasagna and he ordered the shrimp Diablo. (Why I remember that, when I can’t even remember if I took my vitamins this morning, I will never know.) We were chatting and having a good time. Supposedly he was extremely nervous. I can’t say that I thought he was acting weird or anything. He did, however, look funny with his giant cast and wonkster arm sling. Now that I think about it, he did have a couple drinks before dinner. It would be easy to assume the proposal happened because of a lapse in judgment due to a whiskey sour and some pain medication, but that wouldn’t be very romantic, now would it?
We had talked about getting engaged here and there. In the past he had mentioned getting engaged when he had enough money to buy a ring, so he was shooting for the summer. During dinner that night, I remember asking him how we could even afford to do it in the summer and he answered me, “Just like this.” He came over to my side of the table, got down on one knee and with his arm in a sling, he told me how much he loved me, showed me the ring he hand-picked and asked me to marry him. I was crying so hard and barely had a voice that it was hard to squeak out a “yes”. I was so completely surprised. I didn’t see it coming at all. That’s what made it so great. It was incredibly special and one of the best nights of my life. When we came back to my house (my parent’s actually) I was announcing it like it was news to them, but they already knew all about it.
Chocolate Dipped Strawberries
12 ripe strawberries
4 oz. good quality chocolate ( I used 60% cacao Ghirardelli chocolate)
2 large slices of rustic Italian bread, thinly sliced
2 large slices of multi-grain seeded bread, thinly sliced
(really, just use whatever bread you like)
Extra Virgin Olive Oil
I figured what better to go with cheese than a nice handful of grapes? So I piled those on with the salty cheese, herbaceous crostini with the sweet strawberries on the side. Lit a few candles, poured the wine and…
The Hubs thought it was, “Spicy, citrus-y and peppery.” He was thoroughly enjoying our snacking together, regardless of how un-sexy it was. Oh, and when I asked him what he would rate it on a scale of 1-10, he gave it a 7. I would gladly give it an 8.5. Really good.
This wine went perfectly with the richness of the olive oil on the crostini and the crumbly, buttery-ness of the
. I had to stop myself. It was going from wine tasting to wine grazing. gouda
Love ya, Foodies!