Yesterday, I called my good friend Jonathan to see if he’d like to have dinner with me after my free Tuesday night yoga class. (Free yoga = awesome!)
He replied, “Sure! Do you want to go out to dinner, or should I cook?”
Now, I know Jonathan LOVES to cook and is really good at it, too. However, I didn’t want to impose on him.
“It’s up to you, dude,” I replied.
“OK, I’ll cook!” He said, with a smile in his voice. “I’ve been wanting to try this one Julia Child fish recipe, anyway.”
“Great, I’ll stop by after yoga!” I said, knowing that whatever he cooked, it was bound to be good. He’s a wonderful chef who has been on a Julia Child kick for the past few months (check out his Julia Child blog!)—and Iwanski and I have often been the very lucky recipients of his delightful French creations.
So anyway, after an hour of bends and twists and downward dog poses, I stopped by the grocery store for some bagged salad (Miss Healthypants always needs her salad!) and then traipsed over to Jonathan’s apartment, excited to discover the culinary pleasures that awaited me.
And I was hungry. Like, ravenously hungry. Actually, there is no other kind of hunger for me. I tend to go from zero to ravenous in approximately one and a half minutes. (Iwanski is more like a food camel. He can not eat all day, and not even realize it until about 5 PM or so. He thinks it’s a little crazy, how quickly my hunger hits me.)
So being the ravenous crazypants that I am, I walked into Jonathan’s apartment and immediately assessed the situation to see how long it would be until I could stuff some food down my gullet. Well, it turns out that Jonathan still needed to create the sauce for the meal, so I knew it would be a little while before the main course was ready.
Luckily, Miss Healthypants was prepared for such a food emergency. Remember, I had bought bagged lettuce—so while Jonathan stirred and whisked away in the kitchen, I settled down and had myself a big ole’ salad.
While I devoured my salad, I heard lots and lots and LOTS of whisking going on in the kitchen. Never have I heard so much whisking happening, and for so long. My curiosity was getting the better of me.
“What are we having, dude?” I asked. “Did you say you were making fish?”
“No, not fish,” He replied.
“Oh, are we having chicken?” I asked.
“Nope, not chicken. It’s a surprise.” He said with a gleam in his eye.
“Is it beef?” I guessed. “Or pork?”
“Nope, not beef and not pork.”
“Pasta?” I asked.
“No, not pasta,” he smiled.
What the heck? I was all out of guesses. I sat there and thought for a minute.
Then suddenly, this amazing thought came to me. Could it—could it be? Could he be preparing my very favorite type of food in the whole world? The type of food that I consider to be one of God’s greatest gifts to this earth? The type of food that I think is the most succulent, tender, delicious food in the whole world?
“Dude, are you making scallops?” I asked excitedly.
He smiled. “Yep, I’m making scallops,” he replied.
“Really?!” I squealed with delight. “I love scallops so much!”
“I know you do,” he laughed. “That’s why I’m making them.”
Folks, that’s how you know you have a good friend. Not only does he offer to make you a delightful, delectable Julia Child meal—but then he also uses your very favorite type of seafood in the recipe. I was so touched by his thoughtfulness.
And as he lay the plate of scallops in a beurre blanc (white butter) sauce, served over a bed of asparagus with sides of cherry tomatoes and pan roasted, buttery baby Yukon Gold potatoes, right in front of me—well, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.
And the taste? It was out-of-this-world delicious. Even though I had just finished off nearly an entire bag of salad, I wolfed down that entire plate like I hadn’t eaten for days.
And of course, the company was delightful as always, too. Jonathan and I always have a good time together.
Halfway through eating it, he remarked with a devilish grin, “You know, between the two of us, we’re consuming about a stick and a half of butter here.”
How dare he mention that?! But that certainly didn’t stop me from enjoying every bit of it and nearly licking the plate clean.
After dinner, Jonathan asked, “Could we maybe do this once a week?”
I looked at him, surprised. “You want to make dinner for me—for us—every week?”
“Well, sure,” he replied, smiling. “I’d love that.”
“Absolutely!” I replied. Who could pass up an offer like that?
I’m telling you, I feel so lucky to have a friend like Jonathan. He is such a generous and thoughtful person.
And he makes a mean scallop.