Well, it's Valentine's Day, and that's not a good thing. Or it is, depending on how you look at it.
In our household, Valentine's Day is something of a curse.
First off, I'm a chef, and Valentines is a sorry service to work. Busy as hell with frantic men taking out their women for a night on the town; something that approximates their somewhat skewed view of what romance consists of. So they take the girl out to dinner to a restaurant staffed with an incredibly stressed staff that would rather be fighting the Taliban than serving you food.
Think about that for a moment...
Second, this is The Lady's birthday, and we can't really go out to celebrate it, because of the above. And especially today. We've been on the road. That's right. The Lady, great sport that she is, has been on the road with me on her birthday to Savannah, Georgia. And it's not on vacation or anything like that. No, Chef Mojo had a major catering gig out on Tybee Island, and he needs The Lady to help him pick through 25 pounds or so of crab meat so he can do his job. 450 or so little crab cakes, along with shrimp, asparagus, stuffed tomatoes, tapenade and a cheese display for 150 well heeled Savannahians and Islanders. Jeez. I feel like I'm in the middle of a train wreck...
But all is not lost. Tomorrow, we'll take some time off and do it up right with a birthday dinner at Elizabeth on 37th, perhaps one of the best restaurants on the East Coast. We're going to take a taxi, eat like dukes and drink like kings and pretty much enjoy the hell out of ourselves.
So, thanks, sweetie. For everything. Love you lots.