My long-suffering husband and I have been married thirteen pretty wonderful years as of today.
Last night we went out for dinner to celebrate at a local restaurant where the staff spoiled us rotten; they seemed so happy to see us, and were so attentive that it seemed almost ungrateful to quibble over the weak cosmopolitan that had been described (optimistically but, alas, erroneously) on the specialty drinks menu as “The Best Cosmopolitan In the World.” It seemed as if everybody who worked there knew about our special occasion, and even our menu got into the act; at the top of the page there were several “Happy Birthdays” listed and then our jaws dropped slightly when we noticed, “And a special happy anniversary to Mr. and Mrs. T.” How sweet is that?
Tonight, sentimental as I am, I cooked a reprise of one of the first dinners I ever made for my husband when we were dating. We’ll disregard the fact that he had absolutely no recollection of this meal when he saw it again tonight, even though I distinctly remember him making a big fuss over it at the time… and that was, what, a mere 15 years ago? I sauteed jumbo shrimp until they were just firm, and served them blanketed in a sauce of finely minced onion, lime juice, white wine, butter and heavy cream, with lime zest scattered over all. Not diet-friendly, but absolutely delicious over a blend of black, red, and brown rice.
And with a centerpiece of flowers from the garden, what more could we ask? Well, another 40 good years would be much appreciated.