Happy Jerk Appreciation Day
If Stuart gave me flowers or chocolate on the 14th of February, I would take his temperature and ask him those standard questions you get asked after a car wreck. You know, like "When's your birthday?" and "Who's the president?" and "Does your head hurt?"
Valentine's Day doesn't hold that much appeal for me, not in the Hallmark Card sense. It might have something to do with a particularly memorable Valentine's Day date that didn't start well and ended worse (we had an argument and then later the fella in question - not Stu - got food poisoning; nothing like sitting in a skanky dorm listening to a guy puke for four hours). It might also have something to do with a friend of mine and Stu's who re-named V-day "Jerk Appreciation Day." The logic goes something like this:
1. There are a lot of guys out there who are jerks.
2. There are plenty of gals out there who date those jerks and know they are jerks.
3. Valentine's Day gives those jerks the opportunity to buy expensive gifts, for which they are forgiven for being jerks and treated like kings.
4. Ergo, Valentine's Day is really Jerk Appreciation Day.
5. And if #4 is true, it follows logically that acknowledging Valentine's Day in any way automatically means you're a jerk. At least, this has been Stuart's justification for blowing off the holiday altogether.
Frankly, I don't mind. I am certainly not the type of person to whom feelings are proved one way or the other by the purchase of flowers or candy (not that I would ever turn down good chocolate) or some contrived romantic evening. I didn't even think about today being Valentine's Day at all until I read this post on the Yarn Harlot's blog about the nature of love and the skewed emphasis our society places on "you complete me" relationships and how we need to combat that by celebrating deeper love, like what you have (hopefully) for your family, the lasting kind of love. That's the kind of love worth celebrating.
So anyway, in the spirit of "Whole Wheat sort of love" (if you read her post, you'd know what I'm talking about), I made whole wheat sourdough bread. Not terribly festive, but practical and delicious. I also decided to bake something festive, something fun, something I'd never tried before, something fancy-pants and French-sounding. Something like "Heart Shaped Peanut Butter Chocolates with Ganache," the recipe on the package of a Williams-Sonoma flexible baking thingy that was a Christmas present.
Something about trying new recipes makes me messier than usual in the kitchen. It's like I can't contain myself. This time was no different. I dropped an egg on the floor, I spilled cream on the table, I poured melted chocolate and peanut butter on the counter in a moment of absent-mindedness when I was trying to transfer it to a bowl, I dropped chocolate shavings on the floor, I spattered the egg-sugar-vanilla mixture as I furiously whipped it into a light, frothy state. I'm surprised none of this stuff got in my hair or up my sleeve or down my pants (it's happened, people.)
The result was totally worth it:
Valentine's Day doesn't hold that much appeal for me, not in the Hallmark Card sense. It might have something to do with a particularly memorable Valentine's Day date that didn't start well and ended worse (we had an argument and then later the fella in question - not Stu - got food poisoning; nothing like sitting in a skanky dorm listening to a guy puke for four hours). It might also have something to do with a friend of mine and Stu's who re-named V-day "Jerk Appreciation Day." The logic goes something like this:
1. There are a lot of guys out there who are jerks.
2. There are plenty of gals out there who date those jerks and know they are jerks.
3. Valentine's Day gives those jerks the opportunity to buy expensive gifts, for which they are forgiven for being jerks and treated like kings.
4. Ergo, Valentine's Day is really Jerk Appreciation Day.
5. And if #4 is true, it follows logically that acknowledging Valentine's Day in any way automatically means you're a jerk. At least, this has been Stuart's justification for blowing off the holiday altogether.
Frankly, I don't mind. I am certainly not the type of person to whom feelings are proved one way or the other by the purchase of flowers or candy (not that I would ever turn down good chocolate) or some contrived romantic evening. I didn't even think about today being Valentine's Day at all until I read this post on the Yarn Harlot's blog about the nature of love and the skewed emphasis our society places on "you complete me" relationships and how we need to combat that by celebrating deeper love, like what you have (hopefully) for your family, the lasting kind of love. That's the kind of love worth celebrating.
So anyway, in the spirit of "Whole Wheat sort of love" (if you read her post, you'd know what I'm talking about), I made whole wheat sourdough bread. Not terribly festive, but practical and delicious. I also decided to bake something festive, something fun, something I'd never tried before, something fancy-pants and French-sounding. Something like "Heart Shaped Peanut Butter Chocolates with Ganache," the recipe on the package of a Williams-Sonoma flexible baking thingy that was a Christmas present.
Something about trying new recipes makes me messier than usual in the kitchen. It's like I can't contain myself. This time was no different. I dropped an egg on the floor, I spilled cream on the table, I poured melted chocolate and peanut butter on the counter in a moment of absent-mindedness when I was trying to transfer it to a bowl, I dropped chocolate shavings on the floor, I spattered the egg-sugar-vanilla mixture as I furiously whipped it into a light, frothy state. I'm surprised none of this stuff got in my hair or up my sleeve or down my pants (it's happened, people.)
The result was totally worth it:
Comments
Somebody asked Eric if we were going to have a "romantic dinner" tonight and he said we have a romantic dinner every night. by which he meant we, you know, cook.
Your father gave your mother neither roses nor chocolates, but something she really appreciated, and watched last night, and it was on sale.
A messy kitchen? You take after your mother. (Including the fine results afterwards.) She agreed to do Wednesday Supper at Church which happened last night (postponed a week because of weather) and the results are still in the kitchen. Plus she is hosting bridge tonight. Guess where I will be spending my day.
-Chanterelle
Tess made me realize there's a middle ground, and that is to use the day as an excuse to have a little celebration in the dull, dreary cold of February, when your holiday toys are getting a little stale but the warmth of spring seems like an eternity away. Little presents (CERTAINLY no heart-shaped box of chocolate) and each other's company. Great stuff.
This year we didn't do much beyond a few little doofy Valentine cards for the kids, largely thanks to a killer cold on my part. I'm not fussed about it, though.
Well, much. This year Caz was making noise about getting me a gift from Lakeside Fibers... be still my acquisitive little woollen heart!