Truffles, The Variety Pack, and a Perfectly Poached Egg

It's been a crazy two weeks. So much has happened and I am left emotionally drained at the end of it-- like "sitting at home in a hoodie and shorts on Saturday night" drained. There is a breeze, so that's nice. This past week was also Valentine's Day-- or in my case, Valentine's Week.

Some remnants of The Dessert Disaster

In spite of the tumultuousness that was the month of February thus far, Shelley succeeded in taking the term "sweetheart" to a new level. Monday, our bunny Zorro got neutered, we had our nephew Trent for a couple days, and by the time the surgeries and child drops were over it was 9:30 at night, and I had to make a treat for school the next day (I'm a teacher (one of many hats)). Shells suggested this cream cheese and Oreo mixture dipped in chocolate. The plan was to shape them like hearts, dip them in white chocolate dyed pink, and call it a day. The dessert missed the memo. My white chocolate covered Oreo truffles were a major fail-- although my girlfriend tried not to laugh at them, a chuckle escaped as she pulled me into the living room to finish watching Nick be a skeeze ("The Bachelor" is our guilty pleasure).

Broken Hearts 

When I woke up in the morning, she got up with me, went downstairs, and had the idea to cut the sad hearts into squares, cleverly call them Broken Hearts, and serve them that way. They still tasted delicious, for the record, as was evidenced by the fact that they were gone nearly instantly. My co-workers also loved the name.

As I had night class Tuesday, we passed our celebration to Wednesday. She came home from work with groceries and a bouquet of flowers-- beautiful flowers-- chrysanthemums, daisies, carnations, roses, morning glories...  Not just a bouquet of roses or carnations or something. I felt like a child as I exclaimed, "You got me the variety pack!" Wow, nice reaction Rebecca.

The Variety Pack

Then, she prepared dinner. She is a chef in every sense of the word: creative, random, anal, and arrogant (about her food)-- but she has every reason in the world to be, as anyone who has eaten a meal she's made knows. The meal is one that, when it was initially described to me, had me raising an eyebrow-- smoked salmon with sweet potato hash and orange rind, hollandaise sauce, and, quote "a perfectly poached egg". This has since become my favorite meal, paired with a nice Reisling. I received this meal on plates I had said I liked once when we were out-- surprise #2 for me.

The meal was followed by the most sinfully decadent dessert I've ever had. I requested a chocolate cheesecake, something rich, and of course it exceeded any dream: chocolate crust (keeping with the Oreo trend), vanilla and chocolate swirled cheesecake, topped with chocolate ganache (which, as my co-worker Julie said, could make a napkin taste good).

My decadent dessert  on pretty plates 

The dessert's leftovers got taken to work, where my colleagues proceeded to call this cooking and cleaning love of mine "a unicorn" because someone who prefers to do those things is such a rarity. We got a good laugh out of that later.  

The next day, I had a doctor's appointment and I was nervous about it. When I came home (all is well), she had bought me a bigger bookshelf, white like I wanted, and assembled it in my studio alongside a lamp in my favorite color. Finally, a place to house my books. I mentioned offhand that I needed to get one next time we were out, and then it was here. Cut to her detailing my car, Arlandria, this afternoon in the beautiful sunshine, as I sit on the driveway and do my homework and smile because it's adorable. 

The thing of it is, I don't think any of these actions had anything to do with the fact that there was a holiday indicating these things should happen. Instead, this is just how you behave when you love someone. I felt I should mention this because I am not a chef, nor am I particularly good at gifts that aren't memory-type gestures (most notably a trip to the Panthers stadium), but I use my words well and make every attempt to utilize that gift to show people when I appreciate them too.

I went through an angsty phase when I was younger where I tried (key word there) to hate Valentine's Day as a ripoff, money-making, generic pile of garbage. While the "Galentine" phenomenon this year (insert eye roll here) almost brought the angst back, it didn't, because I just love love, in all of its many forms. I love my mum, who was my first valentine. I love my sister. I love all the friends I have made over the course of my life, my other family members, my bunny, and--duh-- my girlfriend. I think the holiday has become overrun with excessive gift giving like it's Christmas, or the pressure to do it perfectly with an expensive meal and lingerie and all of that. I keep it nostalgic-- homemade valentines, some flowers, and the words to represent all the love in my heart. The holiday is all about LOVE, and that is truly something to be celebrated in a world where it seems to so often be forgotten.