This is a recipe.  You may not be inclined to believe that, but I kid you not.  All that you need to understand is that this is what it means to be a Larry.

Valentine’s Day can be a challenge.  Reservations are hard, flowers are expensive and typically you’re going to work that day or the next.  I’m lucky – my wife and I have agreed that we can do things on other days, and with our wedding anniversary on President’s Day we get to do it all over again anyway. So, with Super Bowl and all, we’ll just stay home and have dinner like usual when she comes home from work at 6:30(ish). No big deal.

But, of course, I had to go a-thinkin’, which is always, always a mistake. She puts up with me, so I owe her something. This is where it all goes very, very wrong.

I hatch the plan. Like all basic science-fiction movies I think “what can go wrong?” I have all day to do something romantic for the one person who is willing to be with an idiot like me. The plan goes like this:

• I’ll make a nice dish for the two of us. I settle on Polenta, the most romantic of all the basic starch groups.
• I’ll pull out a nice bottle of wine.
• I’ll clear the table, set down our wedding china and stemware. Her cards will be ready for her at the table.
• Candlelight will be provided in the matched pair of artistic candlesticks our daughter gave us as a gift from her trip to Israel. That way she’s with us.
• I’ll get dinner in the oven at 5:30.
• I’ll change clothes, put on a nice shirt and maybe even make a cocktail.
• She’ll walk in at 6:30 and dinner will be ready.

At first, this all seems to be working out perfectly. I get the dishes down from the cabinets, a nice bottle of French Chablis is in the fridge, ingredients at the ready (not really, but it sounds good. In reality, I make it up as I go.)  I’m actually ahead of schedule.  I think I’ll get out of the house a bit for a walk at the pier.

Or so I thought. As soon as I get to the pier, the text “I’m coming home early” arrives. This never happens, but it will today. OK, I can still do this.  If I leave now, I’ll get back around 5:15. I can start getting things in the oven, sign the cards and try to change before she gets home at 6pm. 

Except she arrives at 5:45. My wife, who is always 10 minutes late to everything (its a genetic thing) is early.  I’m slicing, I’m dicing, the table is not completely set, I look like a wreck.  So, instead of a nice surprise to a romantic dinner, my wife has to pitch in, finishing up the table and such. That’s ok – by 6:30 we’re ready to go. It’s the thought that counts.

Or so I thought. The table is set, I’ve changed clothes, the food is served, and I pop the cork. We’re so impressed with ourselves that I take the picture you see below. So far, so good.

Of course, the first thing that happens – I spill some sauce on my shirt.  Apparently you can’t take me anywhere, even home. 

Then we hear a “pop”, like a glass breaking.  One of the romantic glass votive candles (in the picture) decides to shatter, sending hot wax all over the table cloth, runner, glasses and us.  Apparently the votive was one of Lizzy’s favorites, too. We clean up the mess, which of course is not possible because candle wax adheres to everything it touches like polenta.

Still, we enjoy the food and the wine and it’s time to open our cards. It’s all downhill from here, I got this now.

Or so I thought. Lizzy opens up her card, that says on the front “On the journey of life it’s not where you’re going but who you’re with that matters.” More or less, that is something I’ve said over all the years – I honestly don’t care what I’m doing, just that I’m doing it with my wife and daughter.  Ok, cue the tissues – aaaawwwwwwe. 

She opens it and says “you didn’t sign it”.  I point out that the pages stick together and she pries them open.  And then she begins to laugh.  Not just laugh, but snort. Uncontrollably.  Tears are coming out of my wife’s eyes.  She hasn’t laughed like this since the day I proposed to her in 1992 (yes, that really happened).

Finally she asks me – did I read the card?  I said yes, but only the first page (heck, I was hurrying when I signed the card and then learned that it had multiple pages.).  She turns the card to me and reads it aloud:

“You’re everything I always wanted in a man.”

Oopsy…….

She sends the card to my daughter, whose response was that “I had to take a solid 30 seconds to wheeze laugh.”

In my defense I can only say this…. She Married Me Anyway.

Polenta with Tomato Cream Sauce and Shrimp

Ingredients Polenta

• ½ cup Polenta (I use regular polenta, not quick-cooking. Use what you want.)
• 1 ¾ cup Water
• Salt and pepper
• Grated Parmesan to taste (optional)

Ingredients:  Tomato Cream Sauce

• 1 medium to large shallot, minced
• ½ carrot, minced
• 1/3 cup fennel, minced
• 2 small garlic cloves, minced
• 1 tablespoon(ish) butter
• 1 tablespoon(ish) olive oil
• 2 cups tomatoes.  I used about ¾ package of grape tomatoes cut in half. You could substitute a 15 oz. can of diced tomatoes.
• 1 sprig rosemary, minced (or substitute dried herbs like oregano or thyme)
• 1/3 cup white wine
• 1/3 cup water
• 1/3 cup half and half

Ingredients:  Shrimp

• 2/3 pound peeled and deveined shrimp
• Seasoning (I like Old Bay)
• 1-2 tablespoon butter

Part 1:  Polenta:  start 1 hour before dinner

OK, here goes the tricky part…. Follow the recipe on the box. Whew…

My box has these steps, which I copy directly (Thank you Golden Pheasant)

1. Mix up ingredients
2. Pour into a 6×6 buttered dish, which will still stick like crazy. Polenta is the superglue of all starchy food products. No amount of butter can change this.
3. Bake at 350 for 50 minutes.
4. Scrape it with a fork, put it back for 10 minutes and done.

Part 2:  Tomato Sauce:  start about 45 minutes before dinner.

After you’ve cut everything up and been all “mise en place” and all, do these things:

1. Heat the pan with butter and oil.
2. Sauté the shallot, carrot and fennel until soft, about 5 minutes. If using dried herbs, I’d add them here.  Season with salt and pepper.
3. Add the garlic, sauté for about 2 minutes more.
4. Add the tomatoes and fresh rosemary. Sauté for about 3 minutes.
5. Add water, wine and let it simmer about dinnertime. If it gets dry, turn it down and add a small amount of water.
6. About 5 minutes before serving, add the cream to heat up.

How to do this romantically:   Note that each step has at least a minute between it.  So, clean all the dishes up as you go so that after dinner you can retire to an after-dinner drink rather than Dawn Dishwashing Liquid.

Part 3:  Shrimp in Brown Butter – about 10 minutes before dinner.

Ok, the sauce may seem complicated, but this is not.  That said, everyone loves to say “brown butter sauce” thinking it’s so gourmet and hence difficult to make.  Here’s how you do it:

1. Put a small pan on the stove
2. Add butter and turn on heat to medium
3. Wait for butter to turn brown (really, how does that Thomas Keller guy do such difficult things as this? Maybe he’s out cleaning the laundry after all.)
4. Add shrimp, wait for it to turn pink and turn the heat off.

Now, so long as your wife (who is not a man, and who is never early except when you’re trying to be all romantic and such) comes home on time you’re all set. Just be sure to read the card before signing it, or she will be laughing at you all night long.

A word to the wise.