Ashley Rodriguez - Date Night In: More than 120 Recipes to Nourish Your Relationship

Copyright 2014 by Ashley Rodriguez

Published by Running Press,

A Member of the Perseus Books Group

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Library of Congress Control Number: 2013951218

E-book ISBN 978-0-7624-5531-7

9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Digit on the right indicates the number of this printing

Photographs by Ashley Rodriguez and Boone Rodriguez

Cover and interior design by Joshua McDonnell

Edited by Kristen Green Wiewora

Typography: Avenir, Bembo, Lato, and Maxwell Slab

Running Press Book Publishers

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To my husband, Gabe.

You always have been and will

continue to be my favorite date.

Contents

G abe and I met when we were young. I noticed him early in my freshman year of college. He was hard not to notice, as he was often surrounded by other girls who were also drawn to his sleek black hair, deep olive skin, and tender smile. I offered casual glances as we passed in the hall, and in return he gave me a smile. It was then that I first noticed his shallow dimples and artistically crafted facial hair that framed his face (he was known for his beard and sideburns, which he changed weekly). I walked away with quickened breath and weak knees, wondering if he thought about me as much as I thought about him.

Undeterred by my competition, I managed to get his instant messaging name by spying over the shoulder of a friend. That same evening, with the flutters of butterfly wings in my stomach making me feel nearly ill, I started a casual conversation with him on instant messenger. It was this conversation that led to his asking me out on our first date.

Each in our separate dorm rooms, we shut off our computers, buttoned up our winter coats, and met for a brisk walk on a cold December evening, making our way to a rundown 7-Eleven just off campus. There we shared a cherry Slurpee, without noticing its icy freeze, and many laughs trying on $5 sunglasses. He wore a navy blue peacoat with the stiff collar pulled up and resting gently against his neck. Rather shyly, I caught a glimpse of him parading around in the convenience store aviators. He looked at me and in an instant I took him all in: his quiet confidence, his ability to laugh at himself, and the way he looked at me with kindness and interest. I was hooked. I went home that night wanting to date Gabe for as long as hed let me.

As our relationship evolved, so did our dates, all of which centered on food. In addition to Gabe, food had become the love of my life. Food and I began courting at my moms apron strings, but our relationship really ignited when I was in college, living and studying in Italy. Gabe and I were engaged in Italy; he gave me a ring and I introduced him to carbonara. Eventually, I went on to train as a professional pastry chef at Spago Beverly Hills and worked in kitchens such as the Essential Baking Company, Ciao Thyme Kitchen and Catering, and Delancey, as well as running my own wedding cake and dessert catering business.

Just out of college and newly married, we had a standing date night every Friday, and I looked forward to it every week. We were new to each other, and new to the appreciation of great food. On one particularly memorable Friday night, we cozied up to the bar at a little French caf downtown, making fast friends with the bartender, who recommended a lovely Champagne and delighted us with Raclette. He served us a bowl of bubbling melted cheese with roasted potatoes, crisp and golden around the edges, and tangy cornichons for dipping (see ). Steam rose as the bubbles broke on the surface, releasing an alpine scent before we descended on it eagerly with forks and fingers.

Later that night, we lingered at the bar over a deep cup of rich, dark chocolate and methodically dipped our spoons into the cool whipped cream before plunging them into the warm, melted chocolate. It was the best thing I had ever tasted. After one last sip of crisp Champagne, we paid the bill and slid off our stools. I tucked my arm into his as we left the restaurant, full, and more in love than when we had first come in.

Those leisurely romantic meals in fabulous restaurants quickly became memories of what felt like a past life as our current life grew full of children, diapers, Legos, laughter, and chaos. We once sipped cocktails at 5 oclock; now thats our family dinnertime. This is our new reality. Its joyful, yes, but life often leaves Gabe and me with little energy and time for each other. We both look forward to the rare quiet hours of the evening when the kids are settled into bed and the house is still.

It was in those quiet hours that I started to notice a very un-romantic routine forming. Gabe would retreat to his computer and I to mine. After a long day spent caring for three small children, I had nothing more to give; I felt like this time was mine. But the neglect to our marriage started to become clear, as we began to feel more like roommates than husband and wife.

As I nursed a newborn, exhausted, I longingly recalled those date nights of the past. I was transported to the memories of pepper-flecked pasta wed shared in Rome over a red-and-white-checked tablecloth () pooling in between the citron-hued leaves at a diner in L.A. Even recalling the simple dates in our dorm rooms with store-bought pizza eaten off paper plates, nacho-flavored chips, and a pint of Ben & Jerrys shared straight from the container reminded me of the fun we had just being together. It wasnt the expense of these meals or the locations that made them memorable, or even the food in some cases; it was the time and experiences we were having together. So, as I sat there caring for our third baby, I felt the desire to re-create those days when we had more time together. Those early dates had nurtured our relationship, and I wanted to make time for us again.