It's About Me

I’ve been getting ready for our annual Valentines day dinner. This is one holiday that is dedicated to The Hunka. I usually get taken pretty good care of the rest of the year so I’ve always made it a point to do something big for Valentine’s just for my babe.

The meal for this annual event is a French one I found in this tiny little ‘French’ cookbook I bought back in 1992 for a dollar. In 1994 (both girls were living with us at the time) I had planned this awesome dinner for my honey and had asked the girls to get home late that night. They didn’t.

Worse yet The Hunka got home very late from work too. I was lucky to have been able to keep the food going as long as I did but in doing so I changed the recipe. Drastically. And it was good. Oh so good. Good enough we’ve had it every Valentine;s day since, and I have to try and remember all the chain of events of that night so I get it right.

The recipe starts off with chicken fried in a bit of oil, and then cooked in a port wine sauce. However, since The Hunka was so late, I had used all the port, and had to wind up using some sherry I had on hand. Anything to keep the sauce a sauce and not a crispy goo on the bottom of the pan. By the end of the night I had a bottle of port and a bottle of sherry in that pot.

Did I mention I drank some of that port? I drank some of the sherry too.

By the time my Hunka came home, I don’t remember the full details of the recipe. But I remember that the food was divine. I also made asparagus filled crepes with a sauteed onions and mushroom sauce to put on it. Divine. It’s the only word you need to describe it all.

The kids got home that night in time for dinner and my middle one – my darling child – she put ketchup on it. If I ever wanted to kill a kid that would be the time. For that, and the because her sister made sure they got home ‘early’. I could have killed them both.

Tomorrow, me and the Hunka will be eating Chicken in Port Wine Sauce with Asparagus filled Crepes. So will Devon. The kid won’t like it. He’ll make comments. He’ll make faces. He’ll probably drag out the ketchup.

Isn’t it romantic?

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