A Scrapbook of Good Food
Our tenth wedding anniversary is next week. We have a little adventure planned for the weekend but I've been scheming a small little dinner with our family of four for the day of. I'm reflecting on the memorable meals we've shared, trying to think of some sentimental culinary goodness for that night. I come from a family that celebrates life with good food. It's part of my heritage, maybe even my genetic make up.
I think of tortilla soup on our first date. A lunch date at Azteca. I can remember exactly what he wore as we walked down the strip mall sidewalk to the front door of the restaurant. Last year, I saved that long sleeve gray shirt with the waffle fabric and Dragon logo on the front from banishment to the bowels of the Goodwill so I could show the girls when they care someday. He was tall and confident and...not hungry. I ordered a burrito combo meal with rice and beans and ate every bite. He ordered a bowl of tortilla soup and didn't finish it. Later I found out it was nerves that kept him from eating much and I still think that may be the sweetest thing ever.
I think of cans of Stagg chili when he surprised me with a trip to San Juan Island on my birthday. We were 22 or 23 maybe? He planned the whole thing; a big, fun surprise and one of the first of our many road trips together. He packed all of the camping gear himself, even food for dinner around the campfire that first night. Two cans of chili, but he forgot the can opener and we hacked those cans to pieces with a pocket knife to get to our meal.
I think of our second Valentine's Day when he made me dinner at his apartment. I didn't know he could cook anything beyond an omelet and I was wary. I arrived and there were rose petals everywhere and a five course meal amidst candlelight. Little Smokies in BBQ sauce for an appetizer, canned green beans, iceberg lettuce salad, clam chowder in between and a show stopping lasagna for the main course. I was very impressed with that lasagna. I found out later his mom had dropped off some lasagna leftovers for her sweet grown boy that morning. I didn't really matter, I was still impressed.
I think of foods that became our foods, silly things like the candy corn pumpkins at Halloween and popcorn flavored Jelly Belly jellybeans. Long Island Ice Tea and beer bread. Of how we discovered beer together beyond the Kokanee we drank when we first dated and now have a deep, abiding love for porters and stouts.
I think of trips we've taken. The ill-fated first marriage proposal attempt that began with a hasty stop at Panda Express in Kihei, picking up sticky sweet orange chicken and chow mein in styrofoam to go boxes while trying to catch the sunset. Our proposal story became far more memorable then Dallas had planned but just as special.
I think of the many baskets of fish and chips we ate while in England visiting friends. Crispy, oily beer battered fish served with a side of mushy peas and accompanied by thick, warm beer from the bar tap. That trip also makes me think of yorkshire pudding at the neighborhood pub and Jack Daniel's cocktails served with some silly voodoo doll key chain as a very out of place promotion. I can see the forest green velvet of the chairs and feel the small open fire and hear the bartender having a friendly argument with a regular over some word's meaning, dictionary in hand.
I think of ahi poke served at our wedding reception in the tiki torch lit back garden of the Maui restaurant and many, many lava flows drunk during our honeymoon. I think of coconut wedding cake served at our best friends' surprise wedding on Oahu three days later. It was flown in from another island and we ate it while laughing at Dallas' manly carpenter roommate daintily sipping his drink from a coconut husk complete with pink paper umbrella.
I think of the first year of our marriage when I was obsessed with the cooking channel in general and Giada Laurentis in particular. I discovered olive oil. I sautéed steak and roughly chopped vegetables and garlic. We dipped torn pieces of freshly baked french bread in olive oil and balsamic vinegar nearly nightly. I felt housewifely and worldly and then we gained ten pounds and we dropped the olive oil and bread routine.
There were the oyster shooters we ate at Elliot's on the Seattle pier to celebrate our first anniversary and the crab jalapeño poppers at Darcy's Pub on our second anniversary in Victoria, BC. And the four course sunset dinner we ate at Anthony's restaurant on our fifth anniversary. I was one day over due with Darby and so uncomfortable and hugely pregnant. We walked along the marina that night, hoping to make some progress even though I really didn't want her to be born on our wedding anniversary. I shouldn't have worried, she wouldn't come for eight more days.
When the babies came, there were many generously given meals, some good, some not as good, but all very appreciated. There were many granola bars eaten during middle of the night feedings. Pureed food in plastic containers became a fixture in our fridge when our girls graduated to solid foods and I gloried in making homemade baby food. Both girls started with squash and sweet potatoes and there is forever a good feeling for me when I smell those veggies baking in the oven.
We've created some holiday traditions over the years. Christmas breakfast means the egg bake Dallas grew up with and Pillsbury cinnamon rolls that I fondly recall from many teenage Christmas mornings. When I get a say, Christmas Eve dinner is homemade clam chowder and really good bread, a tradition borrowed from my dear co-worker Cheryl who became a friend and a mother mentor. I've yet to discover my signature Thanksgiving dishes and we're still establishing our favorite holiday cookie recipes. Without fail, St. Patrick's Day means corned beef and cabbage and a bottle of Guiness. Our house reeks for a week but every bite of that savory corned beef from the first night to the third day of leftovers is worth it.
I think of all these meals and I see a life that we've built, a whole adulthood spent together making and sharing memories. I see us growing up together, discovering what we like and dislike, changing our minds about some things and outgrowing others. I'm so thankful for an abundant life, even in the lean times and a husband who is open to my cooking machinations and quiet about my mistakes. And I wonder if those two kindnesses he's always shown me are keys to the success of our marriage.
I think of tortilla soup on our first date. A lunch date at Azteca. I can remember exactly what he wore as we walked down the strip mall sidewalk to the front door of the restaurant. Last year, I saved that long sleeve gray shirt with the waffle fabric and Dragon logo on the front from banishment to the bowels of the Goodwill so I could show the girls when they care someday. He was tall and confident and...not hungry. I ordered a burrito combo meal with rice and beans and ate every bite. He ordered a bowl of tortilla soup and didn't finish it. Later I found out it was nerves that kept him from eating much and I still think that may be the sweetest thing ever.
I think of cans of Stagg chili when he surprised me with a trip to San Juan Island on my birthday. We were 22 or 23 maybe? He planned the whole thing; a big, fun surprise and one of the first of our many road trips together. He packed all of the camping gear himself, even food for dinner around the campfire that first night. Two cans of chili, but he forgot the can opener and we hacked those cans to pieces with a pocket knife to get to our meal.
I think of our second Valentine's Day when he made me dinner at his apartment. I didn't know he could cook anything beyond an omelet and I was wary. I arrived and there were rose petals everywhere and a five course meal amidst candlelight. Little Smokies in BBQ sauce for an appetizer, canned green beans, iceberg lettuce salad, clam chowder in between and a show stopping lasagna for the main course. I was very impressed with that lasagna. I found out later his mom had dropped off some lasagna leftovers for her sweet grown boy that morning. I didn't really matter, I was still impressed.
I think of foods that became our foods, silly things like the candy corn pumpkins at Halloween and popcorn flavored Jelly Belly jellybeans. Long Island Ice Tea and beer bread. Of how we discovered beer together beyond the Kokanee we drank when we first dated and now have a deep, abiding love for porters and stouts.
I think of trips we've taken. The ill-fated first marriage proposal attempt that began with a hasty stop at Panda Express in Kihei, picking up sticky sweet orange chicken and chow mein in styrofoam to go boxes while trying to catch the sunset. Our proposal story became far more memorable then Dallas had planned but just as special.
I think of the many baskets of fish and chips we ate while in England visiting friends. Crispy, oily beer battered fish served with a side of mushy peas and accompanied by thick, warm beer from the bar tap. That trip also makes me think of yorkshire pudding at the neighborhood pub and Jack Daniel's cocktails served with some silly voodoo doll key chain as a very out of place promotion. I can see the forest green velvet of the chairs and feel the small open fire and hear the bartender having a friendly argument with a regular over some word's meaning, dictionary in hand.
I think of ahi poke served at our wedding reception in the tiki torch lit back garden of the Maui restaurant and many, many lava flows drunk during our honeymoon. I think of coconut wedding cake served at our best friends' surprise wedding on Oahu three days later. It was flown in from another island and we ate it while laughing at Dallas' manly carpenter roommate daintily sipping his drink from a coconut husk complete with pink paper umbrella.
I think of the first year of our marriage when I was obsessed with the cooking channel in general and Giada Laurentis in particular. I discovered olive oil. I sautéed steak and roughly chopped vegetables and garlic. We dipped torn pieces of freshly baked french bread in olive oil and balsamic vinegar nearly nightly. I felt housewifely and worldly and then we gained ten pounds and we dropped the olive oil and bread routine.
There were the oyster shooters we ate at Elliot's on the Seattle pier to celebrate our first anniversary and the crab jalapeño poppers at Darcy's Pub on our second anniversary in Victoria, BC. And the four course sunset dinner we ate at Anthony's restaurant on our fifth anniversary. I was one day over due with Darby and so uncomfortable and hugely pregnant. We walked along the marina that night, hoping to make some progress even though I really didn't want her to be born on our wedding anniversary. I shouldn't have worried, she wouldn't come for eight more days.
When the babies came, there were many generously given meals, some good, some not as good, but all very appreciated. There were many granola bars eaten during middle of the night feedings. Pureed food in plastic containers became a fixture in our fridge when our girls graduated to solid foods and I gloried in making homemade baby food. Both girls started with squash and sweet potatoes and there is forever a good feeling for me when I smell those veggies baking in the oven.
We've created some holiday traditions over the years. Christmas breakfast means the egg bake Dallas grew up with and Pillsbury cinnamon rolls that I fondly recall from many teenage Christmas mornings. When I get a say, Christmas Eve dinner is homemade clam chowder and really good bread, a tradition borrowed from my dear co-worker Cheryl who became a friend and a mother mentor. I've yet to discover my signature Thanksgiving dishes and we're still establishing our favorite holiday cookie recipes. Without fail, St. Patrick's Day means corned beef and cabbage and a bottle of Guiness. Our house reeks for a week but every bite of that savory corned beef from the first night to the third day of leftovers is worth it.
I think of all these meals and I see a life that we've built, a whole adulthood spent together making and sharing memories. I see us growing up together, discovering what we like and dislike, changing our minds about some things and outgrowing others. I'm so thankful for an abundant life, even in the lean times and a husband who is open to my cooking machinations and quiet about my mistakes. And I wonder if those two kindnesses he's always shown me are keys to the success of our marriage.
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