It all started one Saturday morning (ok, afternoon) this summer. I was walking my dog, like I did nearly every day, on the Green Belt in Boise. We normally walk about 6 miles. It was hot, over 100 degrees, I was exhausted. Just finishing up physician assistant school, I had just finished a night shift in the ER. I had never pulled an all nighter and had been dreading these shifts from the day I started PA school, more than two years before. It was my first night shift and I had rolled out of bed at about 3 in the afternoon and headed to the park. Not too long after we started walking I ran into a guy, Chuck, out on a run, new to town, and lost. The bridge he normally crossed to get back home was closed for construction and he wanted to know the new shortest way to get home. I told him. I was going the same direction. We walked together for a while, I gave him my phone number, we agreed to have dinner sometime.
The next day, after another grueling night shift, he asked which nights I had available. I had Tuesday and Friday that week. He wanted to get together Tuesday and as soon as he suggested it, I realized that was my volleyball night (sand volleyball at a dive bar). I love playing and since I had very few nights available I told him I forgot I had plans Tuesday and we would need to aim for Friday.
He told me that he likes to cook. I like to cook too. The last guy I dated even told me his favorite place to eat in Boise was my kitchen. Hilarious, right? So instead of going out to dinner, Chuck said he would make dinner at his place. My friends told me I was crazy for going to some guy's house that I hardly knew. I did a drive by ahead of time (when he found out he asked "To make sure I don't live in a box?"), gave my roommate the address (you know, just in case), and headed over for dinner.
His apartment was awesome, had anything I could imagine to drink, a snack plate for me to pick from while he finished making dinner, and a dinner I had to Google how to spell: Fish en Papillote. It was awesome. He said later that he turned to me to ask if I liked it as we were eating, and I had already finished it. Whoops! So delicious.
So dinner wound down and he told me to grab my wine glass and put on my shoes. He snagged the open bottle of wine and his glass and ushered me up to the rooftop deck. We watched the sunset, finished the bottle of wine, and had a great time. This is not my kind of date. Talking about it sounds cheesy. I'm not an overly romantic kind of girl. But it totally worked. Worked to the point that when he went to use the restroom I sneaked my phone out and sent this text to my roommate: "This guy wins. I don't care what the game is... WINNER!" I may have had some wine before this...
So, one amazing meal down and many, many to follow. And I realized that I am NOT a cook. I feel like a kindergartner in the kitchen these days. So I'm learning. He likes when I sit at the counter as he creates these masterpieces. I want to learn. So I bought a little green notebook to take notes and write down his recipes as he cooks. I cook sometimes too and he'll sit at the counter as I do for him. I threatened starting a blog on his behalf, then we just decided to keep track of all of the recipes. Well, I like the blog idea. So here it is.
He doesn't use recipes and we haven't had Fish en Papillote since our first date. It is listed first in the little green notebook but is just a blank page so far. I have them all written down. I fill in the recipes as we repeat meals we had before the little green notebook. Anything new goes right in.
Here's what I'm going to do. I will share the recipes as I acquire them. At first Chuck said they were his "secrets." He quickly added that the recipe is only half of the battle. The other half is execution. I've been taking step by step notes of this execution. I'm learning to add sprinkles of kosher salt often (I didn't even own kosher salt until MONTHS into our relationship) and not to rush the process. Our cooking styles are very different but they work. I'm steering him towards healthier things. He's steering me toward better portion control.
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