Valentine's Day has some significance for almost everyone. I know I have experienced practically every variation of this day of Cupid throughout my life. I can still remember running home from elementary school with my arms overflowing with those precious little cards with illustrations like squirrels saying, “I'm pining for you!,” signed by each kid in my class. And, of course, the little candy hearts with the text... 'Be Mine'.
My dad always tried to step up on
Valentine's Day. One year, I was about thirteen, he gave me a red
rose and a postcard with an image of The Beatles that read;
'Scooterhead, Happy V Day from the Fab Four! Love, Big D.' Oh,
Daaaad... As an adult, there have been traditional romantic
dinners and getaways with loved ones, the anti-Valentine's Days with
friends, vodka and Absolutely
Fabulous marathons, and just as significant, a year (maybe
more than one) single and snuggled up tightly with my dog, Besito,
watching An Affair
to Remember (ok, The
Notebook), with a bottle of Bordeaux and a box of chocolates
(a pupcake for Besito). Sobbing. (Well, it is THE most romantic movie
EVER.)
In hindsight they all seem equally
poignant, equally romantic. But don't tell that to the twenty-seven
year-old me that threw all of the heart-shaped cookies I made onto
the sidewalk and stomped them into powder because my boyfriend gave
me socks and then went out to meet a pal at a bar down the street.
What I didn't seem to consider at that time was how much he loved
socks. And me. (And, well, he did work at that bar.) Hindsight, I
tell you.
These days I see Valentine's Day not
unlike New Year's Eve: Amateur Night – at least for dining out.
Every restaurant is packed solid and offering prix fixe menus –
that they are, almost always, assembly-line pumping out. Even my
favorite restaurant in LA, with my favorite chef at the helm in the
kitchen, served me a memorably mediocre Valentine's dinner a few
years back. Ever since then I have chosen to dine in, even if 'in' is
in a little cabin on the Tomales Bay or right 'in' my own cozy
kitchen.
I mean, really, what's more romantic,
more intimate, than cooking together? Just the two of you, dim the
lights, light a candle (or ten), get some music swirling out of the
speakers, pour yourselves a little bubbly and get chopping. Keep it
simple in both prep, execution and clean up, and keep it rich, bold
and classic in the flavor profiles and textures. Or even go straight
sexy with some aphrodisiac foods, like oysters, chocolate, and red
wine. Oh, and most certainly leave the clean up for the next morning
or afternoon. Make the whole process, the experience, the memory.
The first two Valentine's Days Fred and
I were together we went up to his family cabin in Inverness, on the
Tomales Bay with our dogs. We grilled oysters, sipped wine, sat by
the fire and snuggled. Last year, our first in Virginia, I was
pregnant so we stayed home. But Fred did something pretty amazing –
he built me a fire pit in the backyard. And there, with our dogs, we
grilled oysters (I only had one!) and sipped wine (I only had a sip!)
and sat by the fire and snuggled.
This year however, we have the
opportunity to bring the new to the old and the old to the new. We
will be spending the weekend in a cabin nestled in the Blue Ridge
Mountains. It belongs to a friend, the husband of my dear, dear
Breeda who passed away two years ago. It was theirs together and it
was her favorite place. What could be more special? This year, like
the last three, Fred and I, with our dogs, will cook dinner -
probably grill oysters, definitely sip wine and snuggle by the
fireplace. But this year we will also have Emerson, the love of both
of our lives. So while there may not be quite as much wine sipping,
there will be exponentially more snuggling.
A side dish we plan on preparing is one I learned about through my good friends at Little House Green Grocery. It is so simple, so simple, that you think, 'sure, that's probably just fine and all, but...' But, let me just tell you this; it is brilliant. BRILLIANT. It would work well alongside steak, lamb, chicken, fish, um... everything. I compel you to make it. And then make out.
Happy Valentine's Day!
A side dish we plan on preparing is one I learned about through my good friends at Little House Green Grocery. It is so simple, so simple, that you think, 'sure, that's probably just fine and all, but...' But, let me just tell you this; it is brilliant. BRILLIANT. It would work well alongside steak, lamb, chicken, fish, um... everything. I compel you to make it. And then make out.
Happy Valentine's Day!
Braised Fennel
(Recipe adapted from Gray Carson)
(Recipe adapted from Gray Carson)
Serves 2 as a side dish
INGREDIENTS
1 large head of fennel (or 2
small/medium heads)
2 Tablespoons unsalted butter
¼ cup vegetable stock (or chicken
stock)
¼ cup water
Finishing salt and fresh cracked pepper
to taste
Optional garnishes: honey, balsamic
vinegar or orange zest
DIRECTIONS
Cut about 1 inch above the fennel bulb
and remove stalks. Cut a few of the bright green fronds from the
stalks to save as a garnish (to keep the fronds fresh, rinse them in
cold water). Slice bulb in half lengthwise and then, depending on the
size the bulb, cut each half lengthwise into 2 to 4 pieces so that
each wedge is about ½ to ¾ of an inch in diameter. Be careful to
leave the core intact.
In a medium sauté pan, heat butter on
medium heat. Add fennel slices and cook until golden brown (about 5-7
minutes).
Reduce heat to low and add stock and
water. Continue to simmer on low until most of the liquid has
evaporated (about 15 minutes).
Salt and pepper to taste, garnish with
chopped fennel fronds and serve immediately.
Optional: top with a drizzle of
honey, balsamic vinegar or a little orange zest.
One year ago: Cheddar-Apple Hand Pies
Two years ago: Mimi's Baked Broccoli
Three years ago: Grilled Oysters with Garlicky, Lemony, Buttery Sauce
Four years ago: Celeriac Soup with Sunchoke 'Croutons'
Five years ago: French Red Pepper Soup (Potage Aux Poivrons Rouges)
Seven years ago: Yang Chow
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