Remember when Valentine's Day was the day you brought cards for all your classmates to school? It was about Sweetheart and red hot candies and seeing if the boy or girl you liked wrote something cryptic in that Scooby Doo valentine that might, just maybe, indicate that he or she liked you.
It was stressful only to the extent that you worried you might not get any Valentines, or you might not get the right Valentine from the right boy or girl. But it was also kind of an exciting day because you never knew what kind of crushes might get revealed, and, perhaps more importantly, sometimes there were cupcakes in class.
I remember in fifth grade a boy who lived down the street from us gave me a little box of chocolates: his way of telling me he liked me. I didn't really like him back, but it was thrilling to have made this discovery and I kept that heart shaped box long after the chocolates were gone.
It was stressful only to the extent that you worried you might not get any Valentines, or you might not get the right Valentine from the right boy or girl. But it was also kind of an exciting day because you never knew what kind of crushes might get revealed, and, perhaps more importantly, sometimes there were cupcakes in class.
I remember in fifth grade a boy who lived down the street from us gave me a little box of chocolates: his way of telling me he liked me. I didn't really like him back, but it was thrilling to have made this discovery and I kept that heart shaped box long after the chocolates were gone.
Somehow, in adulthood, Valentine's Day became less fun. We stopped giving cards to everyone in class, and replaced sock hops with a host of expectations and resentments. My Facebook wall feels like a battleground between the singles and the couples today. Maybe it's just my friends, but it has me missing the old days where we gave valentines to everyone.
On the surface, I always agreed with the cynics who dismissed Feb 14th as a bullshit Hallmark Holiday, dictating arbitrary means by which we are supposed to express our love.
BUT.. another part of me never stopped loving the idea of a day of love notes and chocolates and flowers and declarations of desire.
If you are single, then, sure, eff this holiday. But if you have a love, the secret is to be on the same page, whatever that page may be.
It took me and Husband a few years to get on the same page. No matter how much I proclaimed my love for the holiday, he refused to see me as anything but the kind of girl who didn't give a damn about Hallmark sentimentality. I took this as a compliment, but still wanted my holiday. I like holidays. All holidays. Eventually we began a tradition that I LOVE LOVE LOVE.
We may or may not buy each other treats, depending on the year and our circumstances, and no gifts are ever expected, but we always plan a special meal to cook together. We usually indulge in our food selections but the real treat is spending the evening in the kitchen together, working and playing as a team. It’s always a lot of fun. It's perfect.
On the surface, I always agreed with the cynics who dismissed Feb 14th as a bullshit Hallmark Holiday, dictating arbitrary means by which we are supposed to express our love.
BUT.. another part of me never stopped loving the idea of a day of love notes and chocolates and flowers and declarations of desire.
If you are single, then, sure, eff this holiday. But if you have a love, the secret is to be on the same page, whatever that page may be.
It took me and Husband a few years to get on the same page. No matter how much I proclaimed my love for the holiday, he refused to see me as anything but the kind of girl who didn't give a damn about Hallmark sentimentality. I took this as a compliment, but still wanted my holiday. I like holidays. All holidays. Eventually we began a tradition that I LOVE LOVE LOVE.
We may or may not buy each other treats, depending on the year and our circumstances, and no gifts are ever expected, but we always plan a special meal to cook together. We usually indulge in our food selections but the real treat is spending the evening in the kitchen together, working and playing as a team. It’s always a lot of fun. It's perfect.
Steak seems to have become an annual tradition, I guess
mostly because it’s not something we cook often and therefore feels like a
special splurge. And maybe there’s something sexy about steak? I think so. As
long as you don’t over eat. There is nothing sexy about an overly full tummy.
Anyway, this year we decided to make a steak topped with herbed butter. A good steak is best left simple: salt and pepper, a fast sear on a very hot frying pan and then into a hot oven for a quick, even finish. YUM.
We also made a spinach, goat cheese and strawberry salad, which felt very
festive and holiday appropriate.
Husband had a full day of classes, so I set the table and
left out a trio of goat cheeses and some crackers to snack on before we started
cooking.
Post script: I have to admit I wasn’t a huge fan of the pea puree. Maybe
we chose a bad recipe, because I have been seeing pea puree everywhere and
everyone raving, like it's the must-eat spring food, but this... wasn't the jam. I’m going to have to leave this one to the professionals –for now.
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