Sunday Supper

On Sunday night I cooked for M. This was a first -- actually it was a second. In the entire eighteen months of our relationship I have never made a meal for him. I've baked oodles of sweets, but he doesn't care for cookies, brownies or other sugary delights. I've composed meals for him, sliced fruit and put cereal on top of granola or jam on the toast. But only once have I made a meal. That was last March. I whipped up goat cheese quesadillas and homemade mango salsa for a Saturday lunch. It went over well, for the most part.
My apartment is so small it was nearly physically imposible for M to not hover. I suggested he lie down or hide in the closet. Instead he made a phone call. When we finally ate he deemed it a success, and said he liked it when someone else did the cooking.
Nearly a year later, I decided to try again. I was saved in part by the fact that we ate a late brunch and were not ravenously hungry. All I had to do was make a simple pasta. No meat required, no salad even. I decided on fresh pasta in a truly simple sauce -- fresh Meyer lemon juice and zest, creme fresh, good salt and pepper and parm. The recipe called for arugula to be tossed in and wilted but the store was out. Instead I bought baby asparagus, brushed it with olive oil and sprinkled it with salt and pepper. I roasted it in the oven for 5 minutes, about as long as the pasta took to cook.
M was more calm this time, sort of. He found a project (a leaky toilet) and in the few minutes I spent making dinner he fixed the toilet and drove to the store for supplies. He's a busy guy. Apparently he was also scared.
I served plates, he poured wine (a Heidi Shrock Muscat). He took a bite and said it was good. Eventually he asked for more, even though he swore off seconds in 2007. I thought he was being nice, or perhaps he was just plain hungry. He was quiet for a moment and then said, "This is good. Really good."
"Really?" I said.
"Really. Much better than the first meal you made me."
"So you were nervous?" I said. "Scared?"
"No. But now maybe I'll let you do it again sometime."
We'll see.

When I was in college Wednesday was called Hump Day. I hardly ever celebrated it because I didn't find it hard to make it through the week. Now I understand. Wednesday mornings I can't get out of bed. It has become the day that I wear comfy jeans and cozy turtleneck sweaters to the office. Wednesdays I buy lattes and delay getting to work by running silly errands like stopping at Target just to walk down the endless aisles and buy kleenex. I am always hungry on Wednesdays -- I want banana bread at 10AM, a veggie panini for lunch. I start dreaming about what to fix for dinner before lunch is even over. Wednesday is the day that nothing seems right. I am tired of my leftovers, but it is too soon to go back to the grocery store, too soon to justify eating out or ordering in. Wednesdays are the days I wish I had someone to cook with, eat with, sit with. To dissect the week and make plans for what needs to be done in the next few days. I'm sure half this need comes from lonliness and the other half from laziness -- I want someone else to worry about what to eat and doing the dishes and standing in line at the grocery store. I want to come home and have a meal waiting for me at my house, something I didn't have to think about or plan. A hot plate of food to savor and help me make it through the rest of the week.

Since my last posting was October 30, 2006 and it is now January 21, 2007 it seems I have quite a lot of explaining to do. I could say that nothing new or exciting happened in those almost three months, but that wouldn't be true. I turned 29, made two visits to the snowy winter wonderland of my birth, and ate countless holiday meals with family, friends, and all by my sweet lonesome.
Winter is one of the best times to cook. When the days are cold I feel most inspired. I want warm foods, meaty foods, bready foods like pasta and muffins and cookies. I have been pouring over my cookbooks and constantly making grocery lists. Tonight's meal will be one of winter simplicity, created to help my body cleanse and balance after a sugar and alcohol rich weekend with girlfriends. After visiting the market for my weekly does of eggs and fruit, bread, vegetables and maybe a bit of something sweet, I will cook.
First I will make brown rice, my favorite kind. But this recipe calls for cooking the rice in part water, part unsweetened coconut milk. This is my favorite part, the part that made me pick this recipe. I imagine brown rice rich with creamy, off-sweet coconut milk. Similar to risotto, but this rice will be a base for a very simple stir fry. Next comes shrimp, lime, and garlic, followed by green onions and cilantro. Glasses and glasses of water or perhaps hot tea-- no more wine for this girl! Simple food for a cold, clear, and dark January night.
But one can't be too good. Suddenly I remember my souvenir from the weekend: perfect chocolate cupcakes, made from scratch. Of course I will have one, and I'll almost feel good doing it -- when we ate the cupcakes on Saturday night they were topped with warm chocolate sauce and chocolate espresso mousse. I'll eat mine plain, simple and plain. It was almost a meal of monastic perfection. Almost.
For now, I vow to write more. At least for the next month. A month that will take me all across this big wide country to Boston, New York City, and (???) Imagine the adventures.