This weekend was filled with boys feeding me delicious things. I know that most people wouldn't be able to tolerate such abuse, but sometimes you have to throw yourself on the grenade and take one for the team.
Saturday morning found Mr. Boy slaving over the pizzelle maker (a present from Dad of Boy!) He was carrying the torch for a family tradition, and as his soon-to-be-wife, I thought it important to be by his side with kind words of encouragement as well as act as an instant taste-tester. His first foray into the Italian Cookie Making was a resounding success. If you stop by the Detective Agency, chances are you will be offered one of the light, crispy, anise-flavored lace cookies. That is, if we haven't polished them off...
However, my gauntlet of gluttony was only just beginning. With a pizzelle and a Coke Zero for the road (I am watching my figure, after all), I pointed my car north to Santa Barbara, where I met my cousin John at his winery. He'd offered to provide the wine for the wedding as his gift to us. While I've had his wine before, I felt like I owed it to the wedding guests to go through a full tasting to make sure that we selected the very best he had to offer. We tasted reds and whites of all kinds. As I had hoped, Christian Garvin had more of the Verdhelo that make me weep with joy last year.
I freaking love this wine.
So let's serve it at your wedding, he told me.
But can I do that? I asked. Isn't it sort of unconventional?
He raised an eyebrow at me. And since when are you worried about that?
If Awesome was an Olympic Sport, my cousin would take the gold. We finished up with a late lunch and I bid him farewell and headed back to Los Angeles, where Mr. Boy announced that not only would we be watching the Mets on Sunday night, but he'd be cooking.
And that's where Sunday found me: sprawled out on the couch with chicken parmagiana over polenta and broccolli (vegetables are important!) watching the Mets beat the Cardinals.
So there you have it, my weekend food and wine tour. Many thanks to Cousin John and Mr. Boy for letting me indulge. Now if you'll excuse me, these leftovers aren't going to eat themselves...
