Savoring La Dolce Vita

Shortly after I returned to the States after being in Venice on my honeymoon alone, the doorbell rang. It was him!  The gorgeous gentleman who bought me flowers in Venice.  In his arms were dozens of roses and a skillet.  And, he didn’t even know about my culinary reputation as of yet.  He just wanted to reunite with me and steam things up in the kitchen.

I was speechless.  Who spontaneously arrives with flowers and cooking utensils?  A girl needs time to primp and prepare and I had all of a nano-second to run my fingers through my wavy hair and bat my mascara laden lashes at him.  Him!  He was here. We hugged and looked at each other for the longest time.  I couldn’t believe how romantic he was, and we weren’t even in Italy where romance probably evolved.  Romance in Tucson?  Things like this only happen in the movies.

I looked at the skillet and then at him.  “You want to cook?”

 “I’d like to heat things up a little,” he chuckled.

“You sure know how to sweep a girl off her feet.”

He took me in his arms and kissed me tenderly.  His strong embrace and kiss made my legs limp, like a slinky. 

He pulled back and smiled.  “Okay, where is the kitchen.  No more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for you!”

He followed me as I deliberately sashayed to the kitchen. Walking is for nuns. Sashaying is for girls who wear red dresses. If I had more notice, I would have blasted through my crowded closet in search of that dress…but alas, with no notice, jeans and a T-shirt would have to be the provocative clothing du jour.

“Do you have spaghetti?”

I gave him the look.  “Of course!”

“Fresh jumbo shrimp?”

“How’s frozen bay shrimp?”

He groaned.

Wrong answer, I thought.  Figures.  I’d have to take after my father who didn’t know you needed to boil spaghetti in order to cook it.  I still don’t understand his logic.  Like what could you do with hard noodles besides break a tooth?  That really takes al dente to a whole new level.

“What’s wrong with frozen shrimp?”

“If I have to explain this to you, you’ll just never get it!”

Good thing he was tall, dark and handsome…and kidding…sort of.

“Okay, I hope you have garlic, olive oil, onions, fresh basil and tomatoes.”

I looked in the pantry and refrigerator and nodded. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I only had dried basil.  But, basil is basil, right?  What’s the difference?

“White wine?”

I showed him my extensive list of one.

He wrinkled his nose at the brand.  “I guess this will have to do.  Oh!  Do you have fresh Parmigiano Reggiano?”

“Does it count if it’s from Costco and it’s already grated?”

I can still hear his laughter in my ears.  I guess that was a no. What can I say?  I was a novice, but willing to learn and if combining romance with Italian food was what I had to do…I was willing to make that sacrifice.

He walked me through all the steps of dicing, chopping, sautéing, and making fresh pasta sauce for my anemic and anorexic bay shrimp.

Who knew Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome could cook?  He sure heated up my kitchen that night and for many more months to come.

Something was cooking in the kitchen—-and it certainly wasn’t shrimp and pasta!