Valentine's is not a holiday that Chris and I normally celebrate in the normal sense of the word - especially not those we spend apart! Yet, I cannot help but reminisce about this most Hallmark of days that takes me back exactly ten years ago to our tiny apartment at 2000 Alberta Ave, Venice Beach, California.
For it was on this particular Day of Love in the year 2000, after mere months of, as yet, very experimental marriage, that a pivotal part of our relationship was born. With the fourteenth day of the second month of our first year of marriage looming large, we instinctively felt compelled to do something, uh-hum -
romantic. A few phone calls later to some of the restaurants we had overheard our somewhat older, DINK (dual-income no kids) friends talk about, it quickly dawned on the both of us...date nights in West Los Angeles were an expensive undertaking for most, let alone a new immigrant and her single-income, first 'real job' sponsor.
Right, so unless we wanted a 5:30 seating, with an 8pm clear-out in a restaurant with two set-menu options at $100 a head,
not including wine or gratuity (emphasis here), it was either Denny's (which I am sure had a wait list as well) or we were on our own.
Enter my stubborn nature. Fine. Who needs a fancy restaurant on Valentine's anyway. I am sure I can make a romantic dinner for two (doubtful look to self in mirror added here). So I set about searching recipes that include a majority of ingredients I have actually heard of before...enter our affair with
Cooking Light magazine. I searched for recipes that were both 'fancy' enough to be considered 'romantic' while doable for a complete kitchen novice. Here's how novice I was - I chose a menu that included both phyllo dough
and meringues as a central part of my first ever semi-gourmet cooking attempt. Things didn't start to go wrong though until about an hour into my search for Cream of Tartar. How on EARTH was I supposed to know it involved neither
cream nor
tartar - I mean, what is WRONG with these foodie people??
Long story short, after two hours in the local Albertson's on Venice and Lincoln, I finally locate the elusive white powdery substance known as
Cream of Tartar in the SPICE section - not the refrigerator along with every other rendition of either
cream or
tartar (as in 'sauce'). Okay, now that I am two hours late for starting dinner - let me call Chris first and tell him to come up with something else exciting that Environmentalists do to give me more time
On the way home, I get a queasy feeling that perhaps this was not the smartest thing to do...
Alas, at home in our kitchen so small that if one of us had to open the door to the refrigerator, the other had to leave the room, filled with kitchen paraphernalia at least as old as Chris was, courtesy of a rather substantial home remodel by my in-laws the year before, I set to the task. First course was a
Crustillant of Crab with Blackberry Chutney, picked (I am sure) purely out of my love of Chutney (it's a South African thing). Costco provided the Phyllo dough, and Trader Joe's the liquid courage.
Having no idea what kitchen time management entailed, multiple dishes in the oven, more than one course - I was a wreck - but we soldiered on. Next up was to be the show-stopper - the dish that involved the dreaded
Cream (not!) of
Tartar (double not!) - a
Strawberry-Chocolate Meringue Torte complete with home-made meringue...what was I thinking.
With the starter and dessert so overwhelming, it is almost not worth mentioning that I prepared a very respectable seafood
paella as a main. No recipe involved that I can recall - though by that point I was probably hanging on by a string.
And so, ladies and gentlemen - started what would become a tradition in the early years of the Marx-Serjak household - forget overpriced, under-inspired Valentine's dinners - let's rather cook for one another and see who can outdo who.
Dinner was a huge success, and a huge part of our relationship and our future endeavors were born that night.
(Postscript: I would like to point out that I have never,
ever used the cream of tartar again - I am sure it made the move from Venice, to Culver City, to New Haven and now resides in a storage container in Boston - so anyone on the east coast considering Meringues for St. Patrick's Day - look me up).