Valentine's Day

She came highly recommended – like a great book, a fine restaurant, or a good plastic surgeon. Her name was Delilah, and our mutual friend, Nina, wanted to hook us up.

She described Delilah as a great beauty, with intellect and insight.

“She’s your muse,” said Nina.

I wasn’t falling for the hype. I didn’t want to go on a blind date. But Nina wouldn’t let up. She was sure that Delilah and I were perfect for each other.

I sighed and told her I’d think about it.

“Don’t think about it. Call her,” she insisted. “Fate doesn’t wait.”

Rather than a chocolate dessert for Valentine's, I prefer one that's creamy, light, and airy, just like this parfait. Not the layered yogurt concoction in a glass topped with granola and fruit, a parfait is a frozen treat of whipped egg whites and whipped cream flavored with fruit purée. French in origin, the dessert's name, parfait, translates to 'perfect.' Its texture resembles that of mousse, but since it is frozen, it eats much like an ice cream. For this dessert a citrus sponge cake provides the base on which the parfait sits. The blood orange syrup, which is the flavoring and coloring for the parfait, also serves as a drizzle over or alongside the dessert.

A few years ago I tried a parfait for the first time at Pigalle restaurant in New York. In fact it was a blood orange parfait. I was pleasantly surprised that the dessert menu offered this seasonal option as well as a good selection of French classics. I clearly remember it was the dead of winter, so a frozen dessert might not have been most diners' first choice, but for me it was. The parfait was made in a ring mold with a sponge cake bottom and served with syrup. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Ever since then, a blood orange parfait has been on my list of recipes to create. Here I make it for Valentine's Day in heart-shaped form using the most beautiful blood oranges.

Let's just admit to ourselves right now: if you're single on Valentine's Day, it may make you feel bitter. And not in the really good, bitter chocolate kind of way. Valentine's is so heavily commercialized nowadays that it can be difficult to avoid all the signs pointing to the fact that you're alone. The cutesy, overly-decorated cards with sayings you'll never actually say? Check. The restaurants that cater to couples who'll pay for overpriced meals just because everyone else is? Double check.

I don't know about you, but as a single woman on Valentine's Day, I say heck no to that. Just because you may not have someone to make goo-goo eyes at (does anyone still use that phrase?), why should this occasion mean any less for you? What do you have to feel bitter about, when you're already such an amazing, confident and live-life-to-it's-fullest kind of woman? Valentine's Day is just like any other day you'll be single on – although, you'll be more aware of it thanks to the aforementioned signs. Instead of beating ourselves up over such a ridiculous standard, I say it's time we turn that bitterness into the really good, chocolatey goodness kind. You know that bag of candy, piece of cake or heart-shaped cookie you've been eyeing? Go for it. Don't mind the fact that you're buying it for yourself; rather, revel in that.

On this February afternoon two friends are catching up over blended pink drinks. We're in Boston where winter lasts well into April. There is no snow today and the sun is shining but it's cold. We're talking about healthy things that taste good and are easy to make.

We've been working kitchens together longer than we can remember. It started in 4th floor walk-ups across the hall from each other where dinner for seven meant peas, corn and salad with home-made chili, spaghetti with broccoli and garlic bread. We moved on to sharing secrets for perfect matzo balls (don't potchke), cheese plates at the Wine School, salad dressing, brining turkeys and what to serve at the Christmas block party.

Like our hair, our tastes have changed. We nix meat and dairy and drink more red wine. Our mid-day favors drinks whipped in a blender. When I found it last spring, the blender hadn't been used since the last time I crushed ice. That's when I learned that vegetables can be imbibed.