Rookie Cookery

HAVE A SOULFUL NEW YEAR

  

    I love the ritual of making New Year's Resolutions. No matter how many times I fail (and sometimes succeed) in achieving my goals, I love the process of clarifying my vision for how life could be, fulfilling my aspirations to be a better person in all ways. In recent years I have used the "Getting Things Done" process as taught by David Allen, a highly useful tool.
    This being the week between Christmas and New Year's Day, I have the added (and not typical) luxury of being on vacation. Perfect for pulling out the paper and writing my lists and goals.
    Yet as perfect as conditions are, I can't seem to pull it off. The truth is, I am exhausted. Specifically, I am exhausted on a spiritual level.
    There are good reasons for this exhaustion. Because it involves another person, I won't go into details. Suffice it to say, during the last two months I have had the opportunity to be of service while God saved the life of someone I love. This is the answer to prayers over many years-- my own, and others, for this person in need. Finally, after years in the Pit, he was able to let go and say Yes to help, and by the grace of God and perfect timing, I was able to respond and help line up resources for this person. I would do it again in a heartbeat, but I confess the whole process was made much more difficult by my own fear, anxiety, and worry. Despite my willingness to be of service, I can't say there was no static on the line between me and God during all this drama. 
    People, it all came together. And it was a series of miracles that left me bowled over with the knowledge of God's love and Grace in our lives, if we would only trust. So once again in God's economy I see how in being of service I am also being blessed and healed.
    Grace upon Grace, that's all.
    So anyway, I have been reading (providentially) Thomas Moore's new book "A Life At Work: The Joy Of Discovering What You Were Born To Do", in which he shares his insights on the life of the Soul and Spirit as it relates to doing our life Work. He talks about job and career through the lens of finding meaning for a life well lived.
    The terms "Soul" and "Spirit" are often used interchangeably, yet Moore shows us that these are two aspects of self with very different impulses and purpose.
    It is our Soul that connects us to depth of feeling, meaning, personal history, family and community. Soul work is intimate and slow and evolves over time. Soul does not care so much for the Ego concerns of success and failure as defined by society. In the world of work or career, a Soulful job makes us feel nourished by the work, whereas a job without soul makes us feel empty or dead inside.
    It is Spirit within us that is aspirational, where we cultivate a vision for the future and how things could be. Spirit brings energy and vitality, creativity and spark to what we do, either at the job or at home. A Spirit that is satisfied by work has something to contribute. A spirit crushing job is one where creativity is unwelcome, where one feels like a "cog in the machine"--interchangeable and bored.
    As I anticipate the New Year, contemplating this duality of Soul and Spirit brings a welcome perspective to the usual ritual of making "resolutions".  Instead of being frustrated that I cannot charge ahead with my Ego, writing up a laundry list of Things To Do and Be, I see the gift in being just plain too tired.
    I see that the last two months have been deeply tiring to my Spirit, not because it came from my Ego, but because my Ego did not quite trust enough. In other words, while my Spirit was working, my Ego was also trying and interfering and making it Hard. Now that the crisis is over, I see how my Spirit needed to learn this lesson. Does that make sense?
    In these days of Christmas and after, I find myself reflexively doing Soul feeding work, while my Spirit takes a rest. I rest in the bosom of my family. I revel in the presence of my husband and grown sons. I gaze in joy at the nine month old face of Joshua, my nephew's new son. I hold him and feel him push his tiny feet into my abdomen, getting ready to stand and walk someday very soon.
    I bake gingerbread cookies and let their sweet aroma of cinnamon, ginger, and cloves transport me to Christmas both past and present. I look at the lights and familiar ornaments. I hum the carols. I sweep and mop the floors. It is all so very good.
    This year, when my Spirit revives (and it will), there will be new resolutions and a new vision for the Work God has in store for me. I intend to face it with courage and discipline, (virtues I confess I have often lacked).  But this time, as I follow the promptings of Spirit, (and writing this essay is one such prompting), I won't leave the slow, grounded and humbling work of Soul behind. There's been a bit too much Heroics for that, and it simply has not worked for me. The yearnings of my Spirit must be answered if I am to have a full Life. However attending to the balance of Soul and Spirit in my life may make it a little less likely that my Ego will assert itself and hijack the horse I am riding into the sunset. That's my prayer, anyway.
    We'll see.
    Have a Spirit filled, Soulful New Year everyone!

   
  

Rookie Resolutions (for food) 2009

Happy New Year, Rookie Readers!

I love making (and keeping, with various degrees of success or failure) New Year's Resolutions. The whole process of reviewing my values and priorities, and strategizing to optimize my life, is inspiring and invigorating.

For the last few weeks I have been contemplating this little corner of the blogosphere and how my food related resolutions might dovetail with Rookie Cookery. What follows is a list of resolutions for 2009 that I hope to share with you in the year ahead.

In order for these (and other) Resolutions to be successful, I must ask and answer this question for each one: How will I know when I have succeeded?  What benchmarks will I look for, that make the fulfillment of my resolution concrete and measurable?

I don't have an answer to that yet.  But rest assured that as I address each of these resolutions in future posts, I will make those benchmarks explicit to myself and my readers.

And yeah--the list might be too long already. Try not to laugh audibly at me. I promise to spell out the particulars later. But here goes!

Rookie Resolutions (For Food) 2009  (in no particular order)

1. Make Rookie Cookery  blog more useful for myself and others

2. Simplify and streamline food planning and preparation

 3. Zero in on a few distinctive flavors and ingredients that provide delicious variety while avoiding Condiment Clutter.

4. Learn more about spices and herbs

5. Clean out the fridge, freezer and pantry, and learn to love quick grocery shopping trips

6. Explore and cook from my cook books; learn new traditional food favorites, especially Scottish. Add more healthful, nutritious options to the regular rotation.

7. Organize the pantry (again)

8.   Entertain more; small dinner parties or larger informal gatherings-- have food ideas that are easy and good for gatherings

9. Improve my gardening skills, continue to grow some of our food

10. Learn more about quality wines, cheeses, and other artisanal foods

11. Buy or grow organic, fresh and local food as much as I can afford

12. Find a local source of organic eggs and research raising a couple of chickens myself

13. Visit the farmer's market more regularly,  both the local one and ones new to me

14. Bake bread more often

15. Although vegetables will still dominate the plate,  learn about different cuts of meat and how to prepare them

16. Write about food related books I am reading

17. Be available to help teach my son Ethan to cook

18. Don't drink soda.  Drink water instead.

That's it! And those are only the food related resolutions!

Don't worry. No pressure. One of my other resolutions is to be kinder to myself and set myself up for success, not failure. I'll do my best to make these fun and achievable.

What about your food resolutions? Tell me about them in the comments!

California Food Bloggers Block Discriminatory Google Ads

Many of the California food bloggers who have Google Adsense ads on their sites were unpleasantly surprised to discover that ads in support of Proposition 8 were showing up on their sites yesterday.  Prop 8 is a very hotly debated issue in the state, seeking to outlaw marriage between persons of the same sex. Gay marriage rights were recently won in California, and now the social dinosaurs want to turn back the clock and discriminate against consenting adults who want all the legal rights that other committed couples enjoy.

Once the ads were noticed, the word spread quickly on Twitter and from blog readers who complained that their favorite food blog had become offensive to their sense of equality and fair play .  Bloggers quickly took steps to block the ads or remove them entirely from their site, until the election was over.  Many bloggers, who normally avoided getting political on their sites,  were so personally affronted by the ads that they posted their own statements in support of gay marriage rights on their sites in addition to blocking the ads.  (I'm looking at you, Pim! and Kalyn!)  

In these fractious political times, taking a stand can be hazzardous to a blog that depends upon maintaining a positive rapport with their readers. It takes courage to defend the rights of others, when risking one's own position to do so. 

To all you bloggers that took the steps to remove and block the discriminatory ads, I commend you.  You make me proud.  Now I need to  consider how (and if) I will get Google ad code back in my site, albeit with a new found respect for the double edged sword it can represent.

Why A Yes Vote on California Prop 8 Is A Sin

Tomorrow Californians will have the chance to defeat Proposition 8, which would attempt to  remove the recently won right of all persons to marry whom they choose-- even if they are of the same sex.  There are ample, secular reasons to defeat this cruel and unjust proposition. But I want to speak from a theological point of view about why this proposition is a Sin, and must be defeated.

I am a Protestant Christian. We recognize two sacraments:  Baptism and Communion.  Catholics add several more to that list, including the sacrament of Marriage.

A sacrament is "an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace". It is also a means of grace, meaning that if entered into reverently and with faith, a sacrament has the power to bring us closer to God.

Even though I am not a Catholic, I can attest that marriage is a sacrament. I have been married to my husband Jim for 27 years.  Without a doubt, more than any other relationship in my life, knowing Jim has been a means grace for me. Through the love of my husband, I have learned about love, forgiveness, joy, kindness,  and all the other fruits of the spirit that signal the presence of God among us. 

There are those who want to prohibit marriage as a means of grace to persons in same sex unions. That would be a sin. Jesus had strong words of condemnation for people who attempted to place a barrier between sincere people and God. Remember when Jesus took time to talk with little children? The religious and pious types criticized him because children were seen as second class citizens and unworthy of spiritual teaching. But Jesus told them in no uncertain terms, that it would be better to die than to hinder the children from heaven.  I am certain that Jesus would say the same thing to the Yes on 8 people today.  Better you should tie a millstone around your neck than vote yes on 8.

So don't be a hindrance to grace.  Californians Vote NO on Proposition 8.

Dirty Jobs And The Food We Eat

Are you squeemish about preparing food?  Hate to touch raw meat, eggs or dirty produce? My advice to you is GET OVER IT.  

That was harsh, I know.  But few things drive me crazier than learning that more and more, many people are becoming downright phobic about becoming intimate with their food and how it arrived on their plate.  As far as I am concerned, that is the kind of behavior that signals you and your progeny-- assuming you are willing to get dirty enough to invite progeny--are earmarked for being removed from the gene-pool.  Because knowing how to get food is a major skill between us, as a species, and extinction.

I have always been amused by the Star Trek geekified version of getting food. You push a button or voice your order, a little door slides open and Bing! There's your hot meal, downloaded out of thin air.  Maybe that's an infantile  fantasy that hearkens back to the womb:  We float in an ocean of ignorance and the food arrives via invisible umbilical cord into our systems, without needing to know the source.  Only in the Star Trek fantasy,  Science is the ultimate Mom, who does the dishes too. (Note: And yes, I am a fan of Star Trek).

But real food comes from real plants, real animals, and arrives via the effort and knowledge of real people.  And as our society begins to disassemble and reassemble, it behooves us to be curious about the food we eat and where it comes from.

I am preaching to the choir if you are already a "foodie". But if you want to be entertained, enlightened  and occasionally appalled, I recommend you tune in to the Discovery channel tv program called "Dirty Jobs", where the affable host Mike Rowe travels far and wide to be immersed and trained in the world's dirtiest jobs. And many of those jobs involve the production of food.

It's downright fascinating to see how these jobs get done, and Mike Rowe has the sheer moxie and amazing willingness to interview the laborer and be instructed on how to do it himself. The key is, the jobs are dirty, unpleasant, often dangerous and filthy. The show's premise answers the question, "What would it be like to be a sewage plant worker, a pest exterminator, a plumber, a mud driller, a junk yard worker, a tire re-treader...? 

More to the point here, many of the dirtiest jobs have been food related: An incomplete list of the dirty jobs profiled on the program involving food would be: goat farmer, salmon carcass counter, mushroom farmer, wine maker, salt miner, turkey farmer, seaweed harvester, sausage maker, pig farmer, chick sexer.... and the show I saw last night that prompted this post: lamb castrator.

Many of these tasks make me shudder. I am not immune to the Ick reaction, far from it.  However I feel it is part of my responsibility as a citizen to understand how the industrialization of food production has changed the nature of work and our relationship to animals and the land. "Dirty Jobs" gives us a rare, unsanitized glimpse into that world and removes the glamorous curtain so that we can decide just how and why we might want to change things.

Example: The show where Mike Rowe was trained to be a chick sexer bothered me.  A chick sexer picks up a little chick (baby chicken), observes whether it is male or female, then tosses it into the appropriate bin for life as an egg layer or not. I can't recall what happened to the boy chicks, if they were raised for meat or simply killed. But what distressed me was the completely detached treatment of these living beings,  as they were tossed like a bit of fluff or a beanbag into their allotted bin. The image of Tribbles (again on Star Trek) comes to mind.  The sheer volume of animals being "processed" demanded this kind of detached insensitivity.

In another show, the same attitude prevailed as Mike Rowe was taught to grab a farmed fish, jab it with a hypodermic needle full of vaccination so it could survive the diseases that proliferate in the close quarters of such an operation, and again toss it aside as if it were an inanimate object.

I'm not saying we need to treat farm animals like Bambi, give them cute names, hold hands and sing Kumbaya before sending them to the abattoir.  But something is wrong when sentient beings are treated like inanimate objects. It requires a kind of detachment that I consider inhumane to both the animals involved, and the workers.

Last night my husband, son and I watched with a mixture of horror and fascination while Mike was taught to castrate very young lambs, and bob their tails and the end of an ear, all without any concern for pain management of the poor critters.  Mike even used his teeth as part of the castration process. I won't go into too much detail here but this was one of those times where he clearly had to override his own reluctance and distaste to get through the "training" process as instructed.  He was grossed out, and let the viewer know. 

The voice-over narration reassured the viewers that this is how it has been done for centuries and is the quickest and least painful way to castrate the lambs. But I wondered... Says who?  What if this were a small family farm?  How do rural communities elsewhere handle their livestock? To be fair, at least the sheep farmers  ate the "fries" (fried testicles) which is the least they can do. 

I greatly admire Mike Rowe. Not only is he incredibly gracious, willing and brave, but he is a very funny and humble man.  His blog makes for fascinating reading on the topic of work and society in general. 

Despite the sometimes appalling work conditions and practices of industrial farming,  I also have respect for the people who labor there.  Much like a soldier in the armed forces, they work under conditions many of us refuse to acknowledge or appreciate on a daily basis, often powerless to change their own circumstances and doing what society demands yet also scorns. That's not fair.  And while we work to change those conditions into something much more equitable and respectful,  we at least owe them our attention long enough to try to understand their life and perspective.

So I commend to you "Dirty Jobs". Watch it on the Discovery channel or look in your local library or buy the episodes on Amazon.  You'll never look at a shrink wrapped, styrofoam plated, box of mushrooms or chicken thighs the same way again.

Naroe's East-West European Bakery and Grocery

I'd like to invite you to join me on a little visit to a small local grocery store in my Carmichael neighgborhood. Within a mile of my home, there is a bakery called Naroe's, and right next door is the grocery store where they sell their fresh bread and other provisions: Naroe's East-West Europen Bakery and Grocery.

We must have driven past Naroe's a thousand times before we finally decided to stop and look inside. It was a few years ago, and we were going on a Letterboxing outing and needed some picnic style foods such as bread, cheese, salamie and drinks.  Once inside we were captivated by the old world charm and very different selection of foods that are popular with recent European immigrants to our country. 

The shelves bore jars, bags and boxes of many different foods, some we could recognize and others that mystified us.

The jars of jams were easy, because we could see the pictures of fruit on the labels. I have done very little traveling outside the USA and it gives me a tiny sense of what it must feel like to try and make your way in a foreign country.  Something quite common and necessary like choosing food could become quite a puzzle.

Looking at the shelves of pickled cabbages and vegetables, we could tell that the European diet is not so very different from our own. But not the same.

The dairy case boasts many different kinds of fresh imported cheeses from Greece and the middle east.  There are many intriging foods to try.  But the one place I could not pass up was the fresh bread case!

I confess that whenever I stop at Naroes' it is usually to pick up at least one, and often several, loaves of their delicious fresh bread which is baked at their bakery next door.

There are plastic bags close by to wrap your bread in, and a bread slicing machine that someone will use to slice your bread upon request.

There is also a produce section featuring fresh fruits and vegetables. Usually there are large bins of produce in front of the store as well. There are two cash registers right next to the deli case which features a large display of sausages and specialty meats, many also imported from Europe.  Most of them are described with signs written in a foreign language so I will need to ask about it when ready to make a purchase. I didn't take a picture of the meat case because I didn't want to be too conspicious.

One of the things I like best about Naroe's is its small and cozy size.  Going to a regular grocery store, hiking up and down miles of aisles and shelf after shelf of different products, sometimes feels like more of a chore than a blessing.  I feel kind of jealous of people who can simply walk to a grocery on the corner and pick up a few essentials without it having to be a major outing. Maybe I'm just too romantic.

This was one of the light summer suppers we enjoyed not so long ago: Fresh tomatoes from the garden, sliced up avocados, some home-made fresh hummus, some kind of leftover veggies, and big chunks of Naroe's bread and Afghani flatbread to spread thickly with the hummus.  We also drank from a carton of a cherry juice beverage. Delicious!
Naroe's is located on Fair Oaks Blvd. at the corner of El Camino in Carmichael CA.  If you happen to live in the Sacramento area, follow that impulse to stop and check it out. If you live in another city, I encourage you to explore your own immigrant grocery stores and see what tasty adventures await!

Don't Feed The (Wild) Animals

Pictured above: My husband Jim setting an ingenious trap for the pea hen in the back yard (which you can see in the upper right quadrant of the picture).

So my pal Garrett tells an amusing story about The Bushy Tail Mafia (i.e., squirrels), and the "down side" of feeding wild life.   I thought I'd add this little story about my family's  encounter with a Pea Hen (a female peacock, doncha know) in 2004 at our old house.

At that time, my father in law lived with us, and he insisted on feeding not only wild life, but neighborhoods cats etc.  despite our repeated requests that he stop.  One day a wild pea hen made her way into our neighborhood, which my father in law encouraged bribed  to stay at our home by means of bread crumbs and peanuts.

At first we all admired the bird.  So colorful, so stately! So large. Then we noticed  copious amounts of bird shit all over the property. Lovely.

We tried shooing the bird off, and ignoring it, but it decided to roost in the tree in the back yard.  It even occasionally made it's way to the roof,  and we had a two story home.

Have you ever heard the mating call of a pea hen? It sounds like this:

"Uh--HONK!  Uh-HONK!  Uh-HONK!!!!"

And it is LOUD. Very very LOUD. And it makes this sound at all hours of the day or very very early morning, as our son Ethan discovered since the bird, roosting in the tree, was located just a few feet from his bedroom window on the second story.

We had to get rid of that bird.

I called animal control, and was told several interesting facts. To wit:

1. DO NOT feed  wild animals,  as they become dependent upon it and  it will inspire the birth of more such creatures.

2....AND the food you leave out for the desired, "target" creature,  such as migrating birds,  will also attract  Undesireables, such as rats  and other vermin.   (*Note: Much better to plant trees and bushes to feed  indigenous birds).

3. AND (I found this last point most surprising) IF you feed a wild creature,  you are in fact assuming RESPONSIBILITY for the creature, including the *financial* liability if said creature travels to the neighbor's yard and eats their plants or destroys their property! 

4. Yikes.

Thus enlightened,  I was disappointed to learn from animal control that  "we don't pick up wild animals. We recommend a company that will, for a fee, come and humanely remove the creature from your property."   The nice person on the phone gave me a phone number of a local outfit which I called next. 

The animal removal company  would be happy to come remove the beast.  For over $200 dollars!  Oh, and could we please try to sequester it in the garage for them first?

I politely declined.

Another call to animal control: What happens if we catch the beast ourselves and bring it to them? Will they kill it? (We didn't want it dead, just gone. )  I was told that  No,  they would release the pea hen into the wild, and it would cost fifteen dollars  for them to receive and relocate the bird. 

Allrighty then. We had a goal, now we needed a plan.  Fortunately my husband has a bit of the MacGyver in him, and  he immediately set about constructing a large trap made of a cardboard box,  duct tape  (of course), string and a bit of wood.

It was a thing of beauty, this trap. Simple and of cayote-versus-the-roadrunner ACME company utility and effectiveness.   There was bait: A line of peanuts through the grass and straight into the box.   Prop the  flap-door open, bird walks in,  Jim pulls the string, flap shuts door,  --boom!  Done. 

"She'll never fall for it!" I thought.  "Surely it is all too obvious! Even a bird-brain can see that!"

But that is precisely what happened, dear reader.  Bold as brass, the bird slowly, carefully,  nonchalantly,  strolled into the box.  Even with Jim off to one side,  quiet and unmoving, trying to affect a bored and disinterested attitude.

Once inside, the deed done, Jim pounced on the door and duct taped it shut.  Did the bird freak out, thrash about, squawk with fear and indignation? Nope! Not a peep!

Methinks this bird had been through this before.

Anywho, from there it was easy. We gently ferried the box to the truck bed and down to the animal control office. Inside, we saw several other citizens paying their fifteen dollars for a cat or dog gone astray, perhaps getting their pet out of hock.... nothing unusual.   So it was not without a sense of misguided but sincere suburban pride when we said we were there with a pea hen to deliver. 

We said our good byes to the Not a Pet, not without a little regret.  Don't feed the wild animals, people, because you're in it for the long haul, then. Or at least fifteen dollars.

 

Food and Sadness

Last Saturday my youngest brother Chris died. An hour later I was standing in his kitchen making a pot of chili. My other brother Dan, also emotionally exhausted and sitting at the dining table, gazed at me silently as I stirred the pot on the stove.
"It's something I can do," I said.

Twenty-one years ago, when our first son Evan was born, the women of our local church showed up at our door with fully prepared meals, ready to be heated and eaten, or frozen for dinner another night in the days and weeks ahead. Wrapped in aluminum foil, with tabs of tape and simple instructions, ("Heat for one hour at 350 degrees"), these casseroles were a godsend when my husband and I, ecstatic and nervous new parents, simply had no brain cells left over for cooking, after learning how to care for a tiny infant who riveted our attention and commandeered our lives and hearts.
It was such a surprise, this unexpected blessing of food from other homes and hands. How did they know that the regular, unthinking routines of grocery shopping, cooking and eating were going to be eclipsed and oddly cumbersome, as if we had suddenly forgotten how to brush our teeth? But they did know, just as neighbors and co-workers and communities of all religious faiths have known, ever since the first cave persons brought a torch and a bundle of food to the cave next door. They know because they've been through it too.

Chris was only 49 years old when he lost his battle with cancer. He died peacefully in his home, with his wife Anne and his family by his side. I was blessed to be there, to cook chili and bring cupcakes for the neighbors who would show up and cry with us. Those of us who loved Chris are truly helpless in so many ways, yet we can bring the gift of our presence to one another, and we can feed each other, in body and spirit. We can make a sandwich or bake a cookie or bring a box of take-out from the deli. We can pray, and we can remember. And that counts for something. Indeed, it may be all that counts in the end.

Food is about daily sustenance, celebrations, traditions and pleasure. It is also about comfort, especially in times of grief. And whether the food is served at a picnic or a wake, it is always an offering of love.

"The Divine has no body on earth but yours,
no hands but yours,
no feet but yours,
Yours are the eyes through which the Divine compassion is to look out to the world
Yours are the feet with which he is to go about doing good;
Yours are the hands with which he is to bless men now."
--Teresa of Avila

Grower's Market day

Saturday mornings we like to visit the local farmer's market. There are several here in Sacramento California, but we go to the closest one, located incongruously in the parking lot of a shopping mall. This time I brought my camera. I felt a little silly taking pictures of the produce, but I really enjoyed myself, and was somehow able to manage to hang on to the camera and bags of food without dropping anything. I deserve a medal for that.

There were pumpkins and squash of every description, and late harvest tomatoes, including a colorful collection of heirlooms. I bought one of those little boxes of cherry, pear shaped and "chocolate" tomatoes which were delicious in our panzanella that night.

I took many pictures of flowers, and bought a colorful bunch to take home. "Food for the soul as well as the belly" I said to a woman gawking at the blooms. I think she bought a bouquet too.

All the colors seemed to say "Look! Enjoy it all now, even as the summer light is fading". You would never know it to see the sunflowers facing you.

Dinner For Two in the Love Grotto

Last night my husband Jim and I celebrated our twenty-fourth year of marriage with a romantic dinner for two. I will share the menu with you, but first allow me to set the scene.

We are blessed with a secluded garden at our home. With a little help from our two sons, Evan (19) and Ethan (15), I set about to transform the garden in to a Love Grotto where Jim and I could dine in privacy.

My first challenge was to find a flat enough place on the flagstones to place table and chairs. It took some hunting until I found the right spot. (I hate a wobbly table). Because I don't have a small cafe table, I was able to put two little fold up tray tables together and cover them with a burnished gold cloth. If you look closely, you can see the strings of colorful lights we looped from the eaves over to the table area, creating drama, mystery, and potential choking hazard for my surprised husband as he came home from work. (The walkway to the front door leads one to the fenced garden area, and this is where the lights began their journey to the grotto.) For further definition of the table area, we draped white tulle in the tree boughs, which wafted gently in the cooling breeze with the wind chimes.

Finally, a word about our menu. I broiled salmon served with garlic-rosemary butter, seasoned potatoe wedges, and (slightly overcooked) steamed beans and carrots. In addition I served a beet and gorgonzola salad with a shallot and lemon vinagrett. A glass of merlot was perfect with the rich salmon and cold beet salad. For dessert we ate a three berry compote, deliciously sweetened with Stevia.

A home cooked and special meal is more romantic than a hundred such meals eaten out...but then again, I remain smitten with a guy who is truly my best friend and still the sexiest man I have ever met. After dinner, he even read me poetry! (Swoon). (Even typing it out makes me weepy). Whether dining out or in, sharing food remains one of the most pleasurable ways to say I Love You.