I almost didn't want to do this post.
It's in gray territory, in a vein related to a topic that I banned from my blog after the New Year (no, I didn't tell any of you about the ban. I didn't think it was that relevant. Drop me an e-mail if you're curious).
A discussion Saturday night prompted me to consider the topic - so here goes.
I started mulling over the idea of The Perfect Date eons ago. For some people, the perfect date is a rich extravaganza of champagne and exclusive restaurants with French menus that are missing entree prices. Others dream of hot mugs of cocoa after a long night of ice skating. Still others would enjoy a beer and a brat at the ballpark.
Those outings sound wonderful, but my idea of a Perfect Date is a bit different.
I love low key. I love intimate. I love an occasion that lets things simmer.
My perfect date would be on a Spring or Summer evening. A warm sunset would be splashed across the sky and Billie Holiday's gentle moaning tunes would waft through the air. I would be sitting at a table sipping on a balloon goblet full of the most glorious ruby red wine (likely a merlot or a pinot noir), dressed casually in a strappy cotton top and jeans.
My date would be the one wearing an apron.
He would stand there, laboring over a hot stove or oven, evenly dividing his attention on our conversation and the saute pan filled with a culinary surprise. The rest of the night would be full of good food, good laughs and conversation and good wine.
That sounds perfect to me...