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...
Sounds perfect to me!!!
It doesn't matter who cooks as long as someone else does the dishes.
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