The Pork Boys Do Valentine's Day

M. P. set the prettiest table you ever saw for our Sunday dinner, and picked out the flowers especially to go with the candles and tablecloth:  pink roses, white hydrangea, and a bit of purple stattice to give it verve.

We haven't always done anything special for Valentine's Day, but this year, inspired by the culinary and decorative possibilities of the occasion, M. P. pulled out all the stops for our Sunday feast--and it was grand indeed.  Just wait till I show you.

But first I must tell you that for last Saturday's "blue-plate special" dinner, M. P. made a truckload of his famous Chicken Enchiladas, enough to fill a large baking dish and two smaller ones, which we put in the freezer for later use.

Sure, you've had regular old beef enchiladas - but chicken enchiladas are even more delightful, enveloped in a creamy cheese sauce and topped with green onions, black olives, and grated white and yellow cheddar cheeses.  

Of course M. P. made his deluxe frijoles refritos to go with the enchiladas - with a little sour cream added.  And you can't eat enchiladas without some Spanish rice, cooked in chicken-tomato bouillon.  Ay caramba, que delicioso!

For Sunday night's dinner, M. P. took care of everything, including place settings.  My sole contribution to dinner was to uncork the wine, our usual White Zin.

Our feast began with a really scrumptious broccoli-and-carrot soup, M. P.'s own variation on Julia Child's broccoli soup, made from a leek and potato base, and here garnished with shredded Swiss cheese and some homemade croutons.  Luscious!

And here is what the main course looked like:  M. P. surprised me with a fabulous Surf 'n' Turf dinner, with which he took especial pains to make everything nice and tender so I could eat it without dental difficulties.  From the 6 o'clock position, going clockwise:  Rock lobster tail, broiled in butter; ribeye steak (seared in a skillet, then baked low and slow in a covered pan till it was falling apart); Just Bread (explanation follows); a lovely big baked potato, loaded with butter and sour cream; stuffed yellow squash, filled with minced onion, mushrooms, and crumbled Ritz crackers; fried red tomatoes; and tender little asparagus tips underneath M. P.'s marvelous homemade Hollandaise sauce.  One of M. P.'s most magnificent dinners ever, and certainly the most beautiful.  I loved it, and savored every single bite.

M. P. made this huge loaf of soft, tasty bread to go with our dinner.  When I asked him what the name of it was, he answered, "Just bread."  In between all the other preparations, he simply mixed up some yeast dough, sprinkled it with sesame and poppy seeds, and baked it without consulting any recipes.  Nameless or not, it was mighty fine bread.  I tell you what.

And finally, the piece de resistance--a superbly concocted Chocolate Mousse, tasting more chocolate-y than anything you've ever had before, and with such perfect texture that it would not fall from an upturned spoon.  I know because we made the experiment ourselves.  But shhh, fellas - don't tell anyone.  People would be breaking the door down if they knew we had something this good in the house.  And yes, there are several more glasses of mousse left for us to enjoy this week.

As you can see, though the world in general may be racing headlong to hell, the Pork Boys are undaunted, manfully keeping up the best traditions of civilized life to the utmost of our strength.  We are both gratefully aware of how lucky we are, he to cook and me to eat (and wash up), and both of us to enjoy these wonderful meals--which are, in fact, just about our only recreation.  Getting by on a limited, somewhat precarious income, we never go out to movies, plays, concerts, or nightclubs, and we eat out only once a year, for one birthday or the other.  But why should we go out to eat, when we can eat so well, and so cheaply, at home?

Dat mousse!

And so with such a perfect ending to such a perfect meal, I bid you fellas goodnight and wish you all bon appetit! at your own tables.