Like Beaten Egg Whites – This is Just a Post Full of Air

Sorry, but I just don’t have much to say today.  I started another post about the dinner we (well, mostly my husband) made on Sunday, but I just don’t have the enthusiasm for it at the moment. 

I actually suddenly thought – "Another recipe?  People must be getting so bored with that.  Don’t you have anything else going on in your life?"

And well yeah, of course I do.  In fact, I’ll have to go pick up two of them from school/daycare in an hour or so.  Then we’re going to the grocery store to get a few things because – get this – my son wants to learn how to make ratatouille.  Really.  I know.  He’s five.  Well, and a HALF.  But still.  He’s not even all that nuts about the vegetables that go into ratatouille, but he’s willing to forget that in this case.  Thank you Disney/Pixar for this healthy influence on my son.  Because, you know, the only reason he wants us to make this dish is because it’s featured in the movie of the same name.  Pretty funny, huh?

So we’ll pick up some eggplant and zucchini and tomatoes and all that, and later on we’ll make that for dinner, along with the steamed crabmeat dumplings I’d already planned to make.  Interesting blend of cuisines tonight.

And there I go…back to food. 

I’ve also got other cooking "projects" under way…I’m actually gearing up for a pre-Valentine’s day recipe series.  To begin on Feb 1st, or at least that’s the plan.  So I’m doing the food prep ahead of time, so I can have all the images ready to go.  At times I think I’m a looney.  But it’s fun. 

And I’m not even really all THAT into Valentine’s Day, either.  The enforced giving of valentines to all your classmates…the ugly, loser feeling if you don’t get as many as other kids…ugh.  Horrible pressure.  And it just escalates from there.  I like romance well enough, but I don’t like to have it scheduled for me by Hallmark and FTD.  And roses on Valentine’s day?  Please.  It’s inSANE what they cost.  Just crazy.  I’d rather have a new toaster if you’re going to buy me something.  Actually, Bill knows that (plus the cat tries to eat the baby’s breath if there is any in a bouquet of roses, and usually also ends up knocking over the vase in the process, and then later hacking up a mess of tiny half-digested white flowers.  Now there’s some mood music for you.) – and the best Valentine’s Day gift he gave me one year were some Godiva chocolates – inside a 14 inch All-Clad sauce pan – with lid!  Nothing says "I love you" like – "here’s a big pan, go make me something."  But see, actually, that IS what it says to me.  That’s why we are married.   

Another thing about Valentine’s Day that bugs me is the people out there who say Valentime‘s Day.  No, it’s not "Time for Valen’s Day."  It’s not Valen TIME.  It’s ValenTINE.  TINE.  Like as in the tines of a fork.  Which, unsurprisingly, brings us back to food again.

We don’t go out to eat on ValentiNe’s Day.  There’s no fun in it.  You have a long wait – even with reservations – in an overcrowded restaurant with stressed waitstaff and you are just SUPPOSED to have the best meal of your life…and you don’t. 

I’d rather we cook it ourselves, after the kids have gone to bed, and dine quietly and peacefully and without any waiting patrons eyeing our table to see if we’ve paid the check yet.

To me, there is romance in preparing a meal for someone.  Food isn’t love – it’s the preparing of it that’s love.  You make a meal – any kind of a meal – for someone else…something you know they will enjoy and appreciate – that’s romantic.  That’s love.  And so that’s kind of what I want to convey in the February posts leading up to Valentine’s Day.  There will definitely be some fancy-schmancy things – particularly desserts – but they’re really not that hard – they just take some planning and preparation. 

But there are the simple things, too.  Nothing, for example, says "I love you" to my husband like a grilled cheese sandwich.  And not some fancy gruyere on a baguette grilled cheese, either.  I’m talking sliced American cheese on white bread, with yellow mustard, fried crisp golden brown on the outside/warm and melty and goopy on the inside – in plenty of butter.  That’s it. 

I guess what I’m really trying to say, in my babbling, rambling, run-on sentence sort of way…….

…….is that it is apparently impossible for me to write about anything anymore without turning it into a piece about food.

So I think I’ll end this post now and go peruse my cookbooks for a ratatouille recipe.


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