a little hiccup

hi all.

a short reprieve from the usual contemporary, pseudo-chi-chi, retrospective posts. let's talk about something else than the usual moan and groan about schoolwork (though i'm itching to do so). can't think of anything offhand besides the upcoming valentine's day (kornehwoman..... look at the look on your face....) and my sojourn in hospital for the past week, and how i survivied day one back in school today.
let's not talk about hospitals... i've had enough of them to last me for a while without breaking out into massive urticaria-ish little red histamine-mediated bumps. (say that in five seconds and i'll give you a prize)
valentine's day it is then. sitting here instead of sleeping (as I should, i know, and fool is the one who bemoans the lack of time to sleep in one's usual life but slovenly mistakes blessedly given sleeping time as blogging time) and pecking away at my keyboard with 2 stubby fingers... remarkedly unromantic.
am dreaming of dinner in a very very exclusively 2-people kind of space, with clean, white tablecloth, fresh, succulent red petals from a freshly plucked rose scattered over the fine linen, and 2 tall wineglasses of sauvignon blanc with the glass stems beaded with dew from the cold chilled wine. me in a nice, semi-casual little black dress and managing to look half-civilised. and my partner opposite me in a nice, no-tie full-sleeved shirt and pants, and smiling. we're bathed in nice, ambient warm lighting and soothed by nice classical music. (not stupid, jerky, repetitive plays of weird, cheesy drama theme songs)
the appetizer arrives. it's a salad of nettled greens and purples, bursting bittersweet juicy goodness within every leaf. a generous vinaigrette of apple cidar and basil-tarragon with the merest hint of pepprcorns adorns the salad greens bashfully. there's no thousand island sauce to be seen. a delicate silver skewer pierces a full broiled prawn (NOT half a miserable prawn) and an understated, thick curl of smoked norwegian salmon, the entire thing balanced precariously on the salad. we plunge our salad forks into the quivering tower and tuck in.
next is the hot soup. it's a puree of carrot, tomatoes and peas in double chicken stock, accompanied by hearty chunks of chicken breast and miniature cubes of carrots. Fluffy, hot mildgrain bread comes together with the soup, and lots of creamy butter to go along with it.
the waiter approaches the table and asks him for permission to serve the merlot. he tastes the full-bodied wine, lets it linger in his mouth for a while, nods his head slightly, and allows the waiter to pour for both of us. we sip the wine and smile across the table wordlessly.
the service is seamless and impeccable. the entree arrives almost immediately after the soup disappears. we're sharing a single main course, and it's a full rack of lamb in herb-mint sauce. the cut of lamb is almost incredibly generous, as thick and large as a pair of clasped hands. the centre is barely touched by the grill, retaining a tiny ooze of red goodness. the outside is perfectly seared and glazed with plenty of herbs, and the entire dish comes served in a miniature pool of consomme sauce that has been broiled for 10 hours. the aroma is indescribable. he cuts effortlessly into the lamb and the meat falls apart with the slightest teasing, releasing a puff of steam and the earthy, garden-filled, beautiful smell of hours of tireless marination. he places a mouth-sized morsel onto his fork, puts sauce on it, and feeds me gently. i skewer a baby carrot from the side, pat pure sour cream onto it, and feeds him that. we're both taken by each other and thoroughly engrossed in the amazing textures and flavors in our mouths.
we leave the merlot and go on to the rose wine. it's a beautiful vintage and extremely flavorsome in its fruity bouquet. we each take a sip, glance at each other, and kiss each other on the lips as the passion of the moment demands. i can taste not just the wine, but also his cologne and the minty aftertaste of the lamb. it's a very complicated and attractive flavor, and i can't ever forget it. he puts his head at my neck and breaths in the hint of perfume i'm wearing. we both can't wait for dessert.
it arrives. it's a hot chocolate cake, hollowed out in the centre and filled to the brim with melted chocolate of the best quality. i do the honours of cutting the cake open, allowing the bosom full of dark sin to flow out unadulterated onto the pristine white dish adorned with a single sprig of mint. the soft cake yields without much resistance to the sea of chocolate, and i hurriedly scoop a huge mouthful and offer it to him. he reaches out a hand and holds mine, and chocolate drips from the cake onto the white tablecloth like ebony blood. he lowers his head and bites off half the piece of cake on the fork, and when he looks up his lips are dark with sweet, sweet temptation. i cannot resist and lean over to lick it all off, slowly. we ignore the cake, still dripping, on the fork, which slowly falls to the table.

ok i'd better not write the last part of this story... it might get a little too steamy for the little girls reading this haha :D ahem. but i hope it helps to conjure the image of a romantic valentine's for you, and it IS a good suggestion as to what you can do with your gf/bf this coming v-day! :D the story just gets you started... and the point here being, a good dinner is a very sensual experience indeed! try it if you don't believe me :)