Kitchen Invasion

They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I think I’m going to need a new set of directions, because I clearly am not going to get to B’s heart with my cooking. The good news is that my homemade spaghetti sauce neither killed nor scared him away. The sauce was by no means my best effort, but he politely cleaned his plate and then offered to cook for me next time. I’ll try to believe that he liked it (he said he did) and not read too much into that follow up gesture.


I’ve fully admitted in the past that my foodie status is strictly in the wannabe category. I’m working hard to make it legitimate, but it’s going to be a long journey. Now, I’m dating someone who not only knows so much more about food than I do, but is an infinitely better cook than I am.


B invaded my kitchen this weekend and made me an unbelievable dinner – chicken breast stuffed with spinach, kalamata olives and a goat cheese brie, with garden salad and wild mushroom risotto. I sat humbly by and watched while he prepped and cooked in my tiny little kitchen. There wasn’t much for me to do, so I sat on the counter and drank several glasses of Kendall Jackson Chardonnay while he chopped, sliced, etc. Eventually he broke down and let me stir the risotto. And let me tell you, I stirred the crap out of that risotto. I had to make myself useful after all. Maybe I’ll get close to his heart by being a good sous chef.


Oh, I forgot to mention that he prepared a nice little Italian hot sausage appetizer for us to enjoy while he cooked. Everything was delicious. It was an amazing dinner. (Eat your heart out, Tom Colicchio and Craft. B put your over-salted quail to shame!)


Since my spaghetti sauce was okay, and I’m unable to identify the flavors of various herbs in the many dishes we’ve eaten together, I need to redeem myself somehow. I resorted to baking cookies. High school flashbacks aside (that was probably the last time I baked cookies from scratch for the sole purpose of impressing a boy), it was what I felt was my only viable option on short notice. I will not share this recipe – it’s all I have left in my arsenal – but there is a lovely bag of 3+ dozen, made from scratch, chocolate-peanut butter-toffee chip cookies just waiting for B to enjoy.


And naturally, he’s not hungry. So the bag remains untouched, and we all are left waiting for the final verdict. I feel more confident about these cookies than I do that spaghetti sauce (even though he said he liked it), but alas we must wait for him to get hungry. Do stay tuned, I promise to share the results.


(I just remembered… my manicotti recipe. If the cookies fail, I have one strike left!!)