For the third time in almost five years, I’m cooking dinner for A tonight.  Valentine’s dinner, no less.  Usually, I’m a firm believer in sticking to what I know.  In my case, that’s baking.  Cookies, cupcakes, wedding cakes – if it involves a mixer and an oven, I can do it.  Cooking, on the other hand, is not my forte.  And really, why bother when I live with a professional.

Valentine’s Day, that’s why.  See, there are certain holidays which, in the restaurant world, are referred to as “amateurs’ nights”.  New Years is a big one, and Mother’s Day as well (brunch in that case).  Likewise Valentine’s.  In the normal course of things, A and I would have made reservations at a cute little restaurant yesterday or tonight, then happily celebrated the actual holiday from the comfort of our couch.

The past few days having been decidedly not normal (due mostly to a family member being ill) and A having to work later tonight than we thought, we missed our chance to do the nice Valentine’s dinner a few days early.

I put the odds at us taking a few bites of dinner and then ordering takeout at 50/50.