Yesterday I asked my son Sam the question I have asked him every February since he started kindergarten. “Is there somebody you want to get a special Valentine for? We could make one, if you want, or we can pick one out when we buy the regular ones….” This year, he embellished on the six-year tradition of polite refusal by rolling his eyes and saying “no” in a tone that translated clearly into “derrrrrr.”
I am not anxious for my twelve-year-old to be in love, or even smitten. In a twisted knot of irony of the type found only in motherhood, I am simultaneously delighted that he is not interested in girls, and worried that he should be. All around him crushes are blooming, complete with third-party intercession, texting after bedtime, and group movie “dates.” Sam finds the sixth grade romance scene ridiculous, in a benign and pragmatic sort of way. His best friend is a girl, and he listens kindly and without comment to her lengthy, high-volume and rapid-fire proclamations of love for various boys. He is waiting for her to stop talking so that they can do something interesting, like making a video or playing Xbox.
Valentine's Day
Valentines
Lady Baltimore
About ten years ago, after a painting that she’d been working on disappointed her, my mother dragged the canvas out onto the front lawn. Still in her painting clothes, she proceeded to rip it apart with a small hatchet, reducing a 3 by 5 foot work of art to an abundance of 3 by 5 inch works of art. A few weeks later, she sent them, without explanation, to her friends and family for Valentine’s Day. (The whole thing was a little “Vincent’s ear”, and the parallel did not escape her: she did a series of Van Gogh’s disembodied ear the next fall. She also set fire to a couple of those, and then did a painting of them on fire. And yes, I was an anxious child.) The canvas scrap my mother sent to me that Valentine’s contains the original painting’s full signature. Of all the fragments of her destroyed work, each one a tiny relic of perfectionism and mania, I got the one with her name on it!
Receiving the portion with her signature, the veritable corner piece to the puzzle of her insanity, really means something to me. I can see how, when other people opened their valentines that year, they might have felt a vague sense of reproach, instead of the more common Valentine’s message: affection.
Chocolate Lovers Cake
The day after Christmas I went to the supermarket and the Valentine's candy was already out. I have already had a handful of wine orders asking what to pair the wine with for a special Valentine's Day dinner. I have to say I am impressed by the early excitement this holiday is already showing. Let's face it, we all love to celebrate, so why not embrace it.
There’s no denying it, a heartfelt dessert, is one of life’s sweetest ways to say I love you. Offering confectionery to your beloved on Valentine’s Day has been a tradition celebrated and expressed by lovers since the Middle Ages.
Sparkling hearts, winged Cupids and dreamy white doves have always reigned supreme as traditional symbols of Valentine’s Day commemorations, however, for me, chocolate is synonymous with the celebration of this love-filled holiday.
Of course the best Valentine’s Day treats aren’t the ones you buy; they’re the ones you make yourself. This Chocolate Lover’s Cake with Raspberry-Chambord Sauce will remind your sweetheart just how much they mean to you. The cake’s fudge-like center and rich chocolate taste are the perfect ending to a day basking in the glow of love.
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