Looking back fifteen to twenty years ago, I am amazed at the weighted significance I placed on Valentine’s Day gift giving. It was forever the holiday filled with potential of making or breaking a relationship. Those feelings all seem so ridiculous and childish now, but then, with very little relationship maturity under my belt, it all made logical sense.
When it came to giving the “right Valentine’s gift” I placed a lot of energy and time concocting my gift giving plan of attack. I completely lost sight of what the celebration was about. Love. Right?
I distinctly recall dating a “certain guy” at the young and clueless age of twenty. We had only been going out for a short time and Valentine’s Day was quickly approaching. I know…the pressure. There is nothing worse than an impending holiday like Valentine’s to put a young relationship to the ultimate test of failure or success. At least that’s what I thought.
I was of course ecstatic. I made this “certain guy” a very clever card, had a picture of us framed, made him my, “Yes, you will fall in love with me Chocolate Chip Cookies” and bought him a shirt. I know the shirt sounds lame, unimaginative and pathetic, but believe me when I tell you it was a very cool shirt. It. Really. Was.
Valentine's Day
Valentines
What We KNOW About Love
As my husband and I celebrated our 14th anniversary, I realized that my first marriage lasted exactly 14 years. Heading into our 15th year, I have every expectation that I will beat my personal best. And things look promising. So after a total of 28 years in marital experience, you would assume I've learned something about love.
I'm not so sure.
A good example is the question I remember asking my mother around age 12: "How will I know when I meet someone, if he is the right one?"
And she answered serenely, as mothers have through the ages, "You'll KNOW."
I KNEW at 28, when I married my first husband. Enough said.
My younger sister Carla asked our mother the same question and got the same answer. Carla KNEW at 15, when she decided her first boyfriend was the love of her life.
And she was right. So you tell me---how did she figure it out?
For Valentine's Day dessert, try Pomme d'Amour
From the LA Times
So often when people plan Valentine's Day dinners, they want to finish with a big, elaborate dessert. I prefer to go in a different direction. To me, nothing expresses love better than a simple dish that is taken to a new level because you've taken extra care in its making.
A perfect example is the very simple custard tart called Pomme d'Amour that is made by Knead Patisserie in San Francisco. Technically, I suppose this should be called a croustade d'oeuf, since it's nothing more than a custard baked in a crust, but I like Knead's version enough to call it by its name.
There are only two elements — the crust and the pastry cream filling — but by making each as good as it can be, you wind up with a dish that, like all perfect pairings, is greater than the sum of its parts.
There are no special tools involved and it doesn't call for any exotic ingredients. Instead, what makes this dessert special is taking the appropriate care with each step.
Love Begins in Winter
There's nothing more cozy than cuddling up on the sofa with a book and a box of chocolates on a chilly Winter day. And it seems I'm not alone in my love of pairing chocolates with a good read. For Valentine's Day this year one of my favorite chocolatiers Richart has combined a big box of chocolates with a book of short stories, from an award-winning writer Simon Von Booy. Even better, there are twelve specific chocolates that pair with passages from the book! The gift is called Love begins in Winter ($75), after the name of the book.
I haven't experienced any of the lovely pairings yet, but I spoke with Benjamin Auzimour in charge of Richart in North America, and he shared one of his favorites:
"Here's an extract that I like, about happiness, to be read while tasting a Petit Richart filled with salted butter caramel coulis, which will enhance the warmth of the feelings created by the scene.
Anti V-Day
Lately it’s been quiet in my place. I’m amazed by how only a week can feel like a lifetime after ending a half-year relationship with the person I was convinced I loved. The red pillow on the other side of my memory foam mattress hasn't been touched, the non-slam toilet seat in my bathroom is permanently up and the only article of clothing that remains folded in my apartment are the green pajama bottoms she borrowed last time she was here.
There is no longer a need for a mutually accepted group to be played on my record console; the more sultry romantic sounds of Elysian Fields, Sergio Mendes & Brasil ’66, Quentin Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds soundtrack have been replaced with the more discordant melodies and raucous noises from Joy Division, Igor Stravinksy and Chet Baker. A new tone has prevailed underneath my spacious ceilings, not a tone of vivacious spirit or luminous activity, but one of concord and settled reconciliation. All these lofty words are used to cover up sorrow with a big cheeky grin because now I can expand my mind opposed to my heart. Oh, who am I kidding?
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