What's for dessert?

Kirsten and I met at culinary school and, right after discovering that we were both deaf, started spending every day together. It felt nice to finally have someone around you who understood everything you were going through. But that was just the cherry on top. It felt like nothing I ever felt before to help someone else feel understood. After a year I had someone explain that this feeling was love. Something I had never felt before because I had felt no connection similar to Kirsten’s. I confessed my love to her that night over some fresh sushi that I had barely touched; the nervousness held back every passion I felt for the Japanese cuisine. After confessing my love, Kirsten got up right away, paid the bill, and drove us to a mountain. A better description would be a massive hill, that was a remnant of the mining industry that dominated our region’s history.

The drive there was the worst thing I ever had to endure, as Kirsten, in all her euphoria, had not yet reciprocated my feelings to her. Questions clouded my mind, asking what I could have done wrong, or if she was just not interested in women herself. However, up on that mountain, I learned that this woman just had immense trouble expressing her feelings for other people in a normal, healthy way, like everyone else. We sat down on a bench and watched the night sky for hours, while her head rested on my shoulder. On that bench, that night, we had our first kiss and have been in love ever since.

Soon after culinary school, I found out that I had the same problems expressing my feelings Kirsten had. These problems sent our relationship down a spiral, that we barely got out of after we, again, cooked sushi together. A dish that, as I later found out, Kirsten hated with more passion than she could ever show towards me. As I looked at her, cooking my favourite dish just for me, I noticed that food did something for me that words, hugs, gifts and everything else Kirsten tried to save our failing relationship never could achieve. And it was the same for Kirsten. A piece of raw salmon, rolled up in rice, had just saved our relationship, and today, 4 years later, I could not have been happier.

Kirsten and I moved in together. She worked at an expensive restaurant serving local specialities to rich tourists, while I found out that cooking food wasn’t what inspired me. No, I had to find something else. And so I started working from home, writing articles for several worldwide culinary publications. I wrote about the history of different cuisines, the occasional recipes, sometimes I even got paid to eat at other expensive restaurants in the area, to review them, of course. It wasn’t the dream the 16-year-old naive girl had drawn out back in the day, but it wasn’t far from it either. It made me happy, paid the bills and on her days off, I still got to spend time with my lovely girlfriend.

However, that wasn’t enough for me, so today I woke up with determination. I took the day off and waited until Kirsten left for work. Today she would come back home at 6 pm and I wanted to surprise her with a candlelight dinner. Kirsten loved the extravagant lifestyle her guests seemed to live. She loved wearing expensive, elegant, and, I had to admit, gorgeous dresses. To get a reason to take one out of the closet again, she asked me out for a date at least twice a month. I always agreed, however, could never put this much effort into my appearance. I usually went out with tight jeans and a blazer on top. Wearing a dress made me feel seen, and when you already have trouble going out, you at least want to feel invisible. But in return for me jumping over my shadow, I always got to see Kirsten smile and bloom in the luxurious lifestyle she had always dreamed of.

Today, however, was going to be different. We weren’t going out, meaning I could feel seen by the only person who mattered. That meant, however, that I would need to buy a dress. The only dress I had at home was the bridesmaid dress I bought for my sister’s wedding. Not only was this something Kirsten had already seen me in, but it also wasn’t a dress that would scream “I have finally put the same effort into my looks “. So right after she left for work, I got out our cargo bike and cycled to the nearby mall. I looked through every dress available. Mini dresses were too short, maxi dresses too long, most cocktail dresses just didn’t seem to look good on me and to my dismay, I even found the odd denim dress that I got to hang back in disgust.

As I grew more and more desperate, my eyes landed on a wonderful, salmon-coloured sheath dress. To my luck, the skirt felt a bit more open than the usual sheath because of the slit on the right side, although the cleavage was deeper than I would normally have been comfortable with. I still thought I looked beautiful in it and the only person who would see me wear it had already seen me naked, the cleavage should not be a problem. I bought the dress and went to the neighbouring store to buy 3 candles in Kirsten’s favourite shade of blue. On my way back home, I stopped at the weekly market to buy every ingredient for the night as fresh as possible. I arrived late and was worried I wouldn’t be able to find everything I needed. Luckily, however, I came just in time to cross off every item on my shopping list. I took the last eggs the local farmer sold, and found some fresh shallots and crimini mushrooms. I even found the pound of orecchiette, the exact pasta type I was hoping I would find, even if doing so seemed harder in this region next to all the penne, fusilli and spaghetti everyone seemed to love. Satisfied with my haul, I went over my shopping list again, to make sure I had forgotten nothing, and drove home.

I had spent so long finding the perfect dress, the clock started threatening to jump to 6 pm at any moment. Which meant, while I would have loved to take a refreshing bath before I started cooking, a shower afterwards had to be enough if there was enough time.

This meant I had to start cooking right away. I de-stemmed my mushrooms, chopped the parsley and shallots, grated the Parmesan, halved the cherry tomatoes but sliced the large ones. All while keeping an eye on the large pot with water, that was heating up. I fired up the stove and cooked the mushrooms for a while, after which I started cooking my pasta till it was al dente. Some of the pasta water I scooped up and, after letting it cool for a bit, mixed that together with my eggs and the grated cheese, to create a beautiful sauce. After all that was done, the starter seemed to be done in the blink of an eye. I seasoned the cherry tomatoes while the sliced tomatoes laid the foundations on 2 plates and were covered with some torn mozzarella, to pair with them. I then finished up both plates with the cherry tomatoes and basil and took a step back at a job well done. The courses looked beautiful and smelled even better. I taste-tested them one last time, to see if they needed any seasoning and then put a small pot on the stove where I added the ingredients for the dessert. While I let that cook, I went upstairs to look for Kirsten’s favourite dress. I laid it out on our bed, and even added a little extra touch with some pink rose petals.

Back down in the kitchen, I made sure that the dishes stayed warm enough and turned down the heat for the dessert. I then ran, together with my new dress, into the bathroom and took a quick shower. Still wet, I made my hair, threw on the dress and had just enough time to finish my makeup, as I got the message that Kirsten had just arrived at home. Immediately, I stormed out to the front door, kissed her, and before she could even get out of her shoes or admire my amazing dress, hair or makeup, I closed her eyes and led her up to our bedroom. Here, a quick wave toward the dress was enough for her to know what to do next. As I left, I could see the excitement in her eyes; the night was going just as planned.

Downstairs, I put the candles on the table and placed two forks, a knife and a spoon down, next to the Caprese Salad that would be the starter course for tonight. Typical Japanese food saved our relationship and today, Italian food, Kirsten’s favourite cuisine would help me create the perfect date night. I paired the 3-course menu with some Italian Dolcetto and waited for my gorgeous dinner guest to arrive.

Before going back downstairs, I took some time to admire the effort Jessica put into presenting my dress. Soon after, I came down with tears in my eyes, upon seeing the beautiful scene she had just prepared for me. Everything was perfect. She had already set the table, the 3 burning candles in my favourite colour, with the whole room being filled with the smell of what I could only assume to be a wonderful main course. And she rounded the entire scene off. Her dress looked even better than any dress I had in my wardrobe. I think this was the first time I saw Jessica in a dress, that no one forced her to wear. She looked like she had put more effort into her hair and makeup than the excellent-smelling food and most importantly, she looked so happy and in love.

I sat down at the other side of the dinner table, with a freshly prepared Caprese Salad in front of me, and started digging in. A salad made of tomatoes and mozzarella wasn’t anything special or incredible, of course. And it was hard to make that taste terrible, but even harder to make it taste amazing and yet this was the best salad I had ever eaten since it was so much more than just taste. It was her cooking my favourite type of food, going out of her way to look more elegant than I had ever seen her, even compared to her sister’s wedding. All just so I could get that high society feeling I had always dreamed of. It was the effort she put into the night to make it the perfect date night, and it was. I felt like I fell in love for a second time. Throughout the starter, I must have reached out for her hand at least 5 times. I was so overwhelmed with feelings that I had somehow forgotten how to sign “I love you”, so this was my only option. And looking at Jessica’s smile, she got the message.

We cleaned our plates; it was finally time for the main course. Jessica got up and brought back two plates with Mushroom Carbonara. It was this course that engulfed the room with its wonderful aroma, but no matter how good it smelled, I couldn’t stop myself from looking at Jessica sceptically. Not that I hated mushrooms. There just aren’t a lot of dishes where the taste overshadows the weird mouth feeling that mushrooms have.

My complete expression must have changed after the first bite, as Jessica’s did so as well, looking even prouder than before. While the mushrooms still felt weird, the whole taste composition more than made up for that. The garlicky mushrooms, the shallots and pasta, got tied together with a sauce that left a hint of cheese. It was a dish I had never thought I would try, but Jessica must have thought I would love it. And she was right, almost seemed to know me too well. I tried looking into her eyes, which was made significantly harder because I just couldn’t put my fork down and had to take another bite every time I could lock eyes with her. As I got up and filled a second plate, I finally used the chance to get a good look at my beautiful girlfriend. The look I received almost resembled that of a high schooler, thinking she had finally found her one true love. And to give her credit, I think we both did.

I finished my second plate, as I couldn’t wait to see what she had prepared for dessert. She got up, took a deep plate out of the drawers and filled it with something that looked like noodle soup, store-bought, just-heat-me-up noodle soup even. And I wasn’t just seeing things. As she set down the plate, I could look inside, and even smell what she had made. It was soup. Nothing Italian about it, nothing special, no immense amount of work, like the Carbonara must have taken. No, normal soup. Was this a joke? Was there something special to pair up with the soup? When she got back and set down my plate, I got my questions answered as she sat back down and started eating. No. This was it. The perfect date night was topped off with soup. As a dessert! I was a bit, no, tremendously disappointed, as after the first two courses I expected more. Not wanting to be rude, I still took my spoon and started looking down at my plate, preparing my stomach for what I was about to eat.

After taking a good look, it didn’t take long for me to realise what was going on; I got up and jumped into Jessica’s arms, the tears streaming down our cheeks leaving trails of mascara. The night had been what she had hoped it would be. Everything she had planned seemed to have worked out. This was the woman I fell in love with and I have yet to regret it. I hastily nodded in loving acceptance and we started hugging for what felt like 10 minutes. As we did, the contents of my Alphabet Soup started drifting apart. But if you would have looked you still would have been able to read the message, that she had prepared an entire dinner for, just to ask me:

“I love you so much

Will you marry me?”