By Wayne William Cipriano
Whenever Rosalie is getting ready for a solo trip she spends quite a bit of time preparing meals for me that only require nuking in the microwave once they are thawed.
These meals, usually chili, sandwiches, pizza, sloppy joes and the like, when added to a well-balanced program of cigar and beer consumption, adequately fulfill all the nutritional demands of the four or five or whatever food groups, and for which I am very grateful.
There is, however, another less culinary but much more important reason for these prepared meals that supersedes the undeniable facts that left on my own to to cook for myself would result in serious negative consequences beginning with household fires and ending with starvation. That other reason is the age-old exercise of feminine wiles, in this case beyond the “regular ones,” that insure Rosalie’s absence will be keenly understood and most happily ended.
The certain je no sais quoi (but absolutely Rosalie sais quois) is her ability to provide these tasty repasts to be consumed in her absence that don’t quite have the “special” that her everyday meals possess.
That missing “special” is not a function of advanced preparation nor sub-freezing storage, maybe spicing, not the beauty of her presentation, but is, I am sure, some slight alteration that does not immediately call to mind, or taste, some ingredient or technique that has been changed ever so slightly and makes her “live” meals so much better than her advanced prep ones.
Being a gourmand, you’d think that I wouldn’t notice but I do. There is just some tiny difference that disappears when she’s back and adds that much more to my joy at her return.
It’s almost worth her going away just to experience that elevation in culmination when when she’s back. Almost, but not quite.