Happy Valentine’s Day
My wife’s cooking literally brought me to tears tonight. This woman has made me ALOT of amazing dishes over the years, but tonight’s Valentine’s dinner tops them all. I’ve commented and photographed so many of her incredible, wonderful, high-caliber creations, but tonight I realized she is truly a culinary genius, a clairvoyant of cuisine, an artist in the true and the only sense …that or she literally sold her soul to cook like this. I was taken away tonight to another world, another dimension, where I wondered if I was not in a dream. Tonight’s dinner started with Bagna Càuda and sparkling South African Rosé. Fixings included perfectly blanched broccoli and pumpkin, raw daikon (Japanese giant radish), cherry tomatos, carrots. In addition to the veggies, we had fresh home-baked shoku-pan bread that was hovering off the plate it was so fluffy. THEN. Roast Beef, I’m talking hotel-back-room-VIP-roast-beef, sliced-by-guys-in-big-tall-chef-hats-roast-beef, atop a bed of baby greens which was still atop of bed of romain. The roast beef, prior to being seared in salt, pepper, oil and shoyu, and roasted in oven love, it had marinated for several hours in lemon rind, ginger, garlic, new shin-tama onions, soy, red wine, and turned out pink as flamingo. THEN, from beyond, appeared heart-shaped pasta, yes, heart-shaped pasta, drowning in fresh gorgonzola, speckled with crushed black pepper, paired with the Argentinian Toso Cab from Mendoza that I am still sipping, along with the remainder of the Rosé, as well as espresso from the French beans I had roasted this afternoon from the local bean seller, brewed in the friggin’ Dēlonghi pump espresso maker (red) that my Lovely bought and gave to me this morning as a Valentine’s Day present, while nibbling on the densest, black-holiest chocolate cake you have ever even considered, topped with home-whipped cream, blue berries, strawberries, and mint, and of which I had seconds. And it wasn’t just the food, it was the flow. It was beautiful. It was perfect. Everything bled perfectly into the next. A masterpiece. Anybody would have recognized it. It made me say “Hallelujah”!
After all of this, I now know the name of the cookbook I will eventually make: “Its Not Fair.”