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Valentine’s Day Dinner

February 15, 2011 Leave a comment

Valentine’s Day is sort of hokie to me. I’ve never been all about over-sized red teddy bears or overpriced bouquets of roses. I love the sentiment, but the gifts seem really odd.

Thankfully, Charles gets it too. We give each other cards throughout the year when we seem compelled to, so getting one on Valentine’s Day is only natural. But that’s pretty much it. There’s actually no way on earth he’d be caught dead trying to make a reservation on February 14. There are just some things that people in the restaurant business refuse to add to!

Otherwise, we do what we’d normally do on a Monday night. He makes me dinner 🙂

Last night his goal was to prepare what he would order if we did happen to go out. He’s had Capital Grille on the mind…so the meal revolved around steak.

He wasn’t about to attempt calamari at home, so we began with a platter of sushi. It was hard to restrain myself from filling up on that.

Next course, the wedge salad. The best part of it, the freshly cooked bacon (no bacon bits for this guy!).

Main course, filet for me (NY strip for him), we split a lobster tail, and each had a couple of shrimp he steamed in the rice cooker. Oh, and our favorite, grands layered biscuits. Anyone who came to Thanksgiving in January knows the awesomeness of those biscuits!

Thankfully, I saved a little room for dessert. I knew he’d gotten ice cream and cookies, but what I didn’t know was that he’d gotten Ben and Jerry’s creme brulee ice cream! I’ve had the Haagen Dazs version of the same flavor, but it was no where near as good as B&Js. The swirls of crunchy caramel are amazing! I skipped on the cookies in favor of more ice cream.

 

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I want my hotdog.

September 3, 2010 1 comment

I didn’t really have any theme planned for today’s post, but I don’t want my aunt to think I’m sick or dying or anything, so I know I have to write something so she has a post to read during her morning cup of coffee.

Writing about Father Bob yesterday, one of the stories I didn’t share was about my hotdog.

Once I started to work with Father Bob post-graduation, he was often eager to remind me that I’m such a nice and sweet person…until I want something! And 99% of the time, I get what I want. Even if it means e-mailing and calling a person every day and reminding them of what I need whenever I see them.

In recent years (after my Dad shared the hotdog story with him when FB told my parents of this trait), Father Bob would remind me “You always want your hotdog!”

You see, when I was 5 or 6 years old, my family visited Mystic Seaport in Conn. Dad had heard rave reviews of the lobster at Abbot’s. The family had to go.

Well, in my young age, I didn’t really like the idea of cracking open a giant bug and eating it’s insides. I, instead, wanted a hotdog.

After everyone ordered, my entire family sat down with steaming lobsters and oyster crackers. “It’ll be just a minute for the hotdog” we were told.

Halfway through their lobsters, and when I was halfway through all the oyster crackers, my father went to ask about the weiner.

“We just have to boil it. It’ll be just a minute”

Ok. But really, shouldn’t lobster take longer to cook than pre-processed…well, I don’t really know (or want to know) what it is.

After all the lobsters (and oyster crackers) were finished…and I was FAMISHED from walking around all morning (my father didn’t believe in sleeping in on vacation…or well, really any other time), I was nearly in tears from hunger.

My father took me with him to the window…in tears…to ask about my hotdog.

Guess what?

It wasn’t ready.

Realizing that we could probably get a hotdog faster if we simply walked to another restaurant, my father laid some stern words on the cooks about his starving daughter, and DRAGGED me away (I was really hungry) to get a hotdog AND icecream nearby.

This experience was rather formative in my life. Whenever I would have to deal with insurance companines, realtors, banks, Sears… really anything I wanted…I would always tell my father (after venting frustrations) “I want my hotdog!!!”

And like my father, I try to be calm and polite the first time or two I have to ask, but when it gets frustrating, I try stern and throw out that word “unacceptable”…but if I don’t get my way, I take my business elsewhere.

But I always get my hotdog.