First Date

“I make the greatest grilled cheese you have ever tasted.”

“You think to seduce me with a grilled cheese sandwich?”

“First of all, I said the greatest grilled cheese you have ever tasted. Secondly, why are you assuming I would be seducing you, rather than the other way around? I don't typically sleep with someone on a first date.” He smiles as he says this, and it gives me a little shiver. I like his confidence and the way he says it, not cocky but with a note of challenge.

He lights the burner on the range and moves a cast iron over to it, moves over to the fridge and pulls out a paper wrapped package. I expect to see a fancy cheese and am surprised instead to see thick cut slices of bacon. Fat marbled and from the butcher, not from a package.

“Bacon on the side?' I ask, “is that part of your secret?”

“Bacon on the sandwich,” He replies, “I'll also be adding sliced tomato and basil from my garden.”

“I thought you said a grilled cheese sandwich,” I tease him, “that's a tomato and bacon sandwich with cheese.”

“Its called a Happy Waitress, and if you look it up I am sure you will find its the other way around. Either way, this is more than a sandwich, it is a religious experience.”

I raise my hands in a gesture of defeat and he turns to the sizzling bacon. It adds to a delicious aroma that greeted me when he opened the door, something garlic but I wasn’t sure what yet. “Make a couple of extra slices for me, if you have enough, I'd like to use it for my dessert.” That’s the deal we had made, him with dinner and me with dessert. I take a first sip of the drink he had made me. “Mmm, floral, nice, what is this?”

“Its an elderflower syrup I got on Etsy. Mountainside Goods. I love them. I add a small amount to carbonated water. I was trying to copy a drink I had in London and this pretty much gets it. Bacon with dessert, I am already a fan, I can't wait to see what else you brought.” He adds two strips to the pan while pulling the finished pieces. He then opens the oven and pulls out several slices of bread. The garlic smell intensifies as he does. “I made this bread yesterday, I sliced it today and added the garlic and butter to one side, that will be the inside of the sandwich.”

My mouth has started to water already. He is trying to sound casual but I can tell he is trying to impress me. It is absolutely working, so I try to show it on my face. The smile that has been constant on his face widens, and his cheeks redden a little. He pulls the remaining strips of bacon off the skillet and sets them to the side. He opens the fridge again, and turns to me. “The most important ingredient, the cheese!'

I fully expect some super over the top brie, emental, or maybe even a Vermont cheddar. So I laugh from the belly when I see it. Kraft American. Deli Deluxe. His laughter joins mine, and when he can breathe again he says, “Doubt not. There is a reason this is the best selling cheese in the world.”

“You’re the chef,” I concede.

He starts to arrange the slices of cheese on the bread evenly. He grabs the tomatoes from the back of the butcher block and starts slicing. They are quite large, and each slice would cover the sandwich. Curiously, he divides them in half, then in quarters. He places the tomatoes meticulously on the cheese and I understand as he places the rounded edges in the middle.

“I like to have the sandwich as even as possible,” he shrugs as he does the next sandwich, “each bite should have the same taste and capture all the ingredients together.”

“Like I said, you're the chef,” I once again raise my hands.

He moves on to the strips of bacon, halving each slice and covering the tomatoes. He then sprinkles some fresh basil from a bowl that he shredded beforehand. Lastly, he tops it with more cheese and then a slice of bread. Once they are all together he begins to fry them in the bacon grease.

“Another secret to the preparation?” I ask raising an eyebrow.

“Just good sense, I think. Also learning to cook from my mother, she is a true master, I am simply her apprentice.”

“I'll have to try some of her cooking then,” I say, then immediately blush as I realize this is our first date and I am already talking about meeting his mother.

Thankfully he lets it pass without comment, moving the sandwiches to the butcher block and slicing them in triangle. My heart melts a little at that. He plates them, then opens the oven and pulls out a pan I hadn't seen in there. “Home made garlic potato chips,” he says proudly as he shovels some on each plate. My heart at this point melts the rest of the way.

He starts to turn the oven off but I stop him. “I'll need that on for dessert, I'll start it after we finish this amazing looking dinner.” He looks intrigued and picks up the plates. I grab the drinks and follow him to a window table. It is almost fall but the sun is still out at seven, so we can take in the view, looking over the Kennebec River.

We sit facing the view but turned slightly towards each other. My knee touches his and I leave it there. He looks at me expectantly so I take a bite.

“Oh my god”

“I know”

“Sweet baby Jesus”

“I know” He laughs, “Religious experience.”

I don't know how to explain what is happening in my mouth. I don’t even want to try. I saw him make it, I saw the ingredients. I knew it was going to be good, but MY GOD. I don't talk. I eat. The homemade potato chips are also devoured. I eyeball his plate but he also has made quick work and it is empty.

“That is the best damn grilled cheese I have ever eaten. I am sorry if I doubted for even a moment.”

He laughs again and I laugh with him. We have laughed together a lot tonight. I think about what he has said about first dates, so I try not to get too excited, but this guy, this feeling, this laughter, this food, it all makes my head spin.

“Dessert,” I state, and move abruptly stand and walk to the kitchen. He follows and stands on the other side of the island where I had watched him. I grab the paper bag I had brought with me and pull out my ingredients, one by one. Apples, brie, a cinnamon stick, and some granola. “A crisp!”

“I love a good crisp, Why did you have me set aside bacon?” He asks.

It hadn’t been in my original plan but I like to work with what I have. “Watch and see, young Padawan,” I say, “watch and see.” He seems delighted by my reference, and now he is the one who holds up his hands.

I chop the apples and fry them in the remainder of the bacon grease. I finely chop the bacon and the brie, then add everything to a baking dish, including a light amount of basil and some grated cinnamon. I top it off with some granola. We talk as I work, and its a light and easy banter. He has started by saying he loves Star Wars but mostly just the originals. I then proceed to defend my dissertation, that The Phantom Menace is in fact the best Star Wars film of all the films. He concedes to me finally, and I am thinking about kissing him when the alarm for the crisp goes off.

I take it from the oven and divide it onto plates and we move back to the window. The sun is now setting and the sky is stunning.

“Oh my God.”

“I know”

“Sweet baby Jesus!” I know he is repeating what I said to tease, and I laugh and hit him lightly on the shoulder. As I pull my hand back I instead let it rest on his knee.

We talk, and it is easy. After we have finished, we continue to talk about little things, getting to know one another. At some point we get quieter, and then I lean in, he leans in, we kiss. We talk some more, hold hands.

Finally it is after midnight, and we have moved to the couch. We have talked more of nerd things, Marvel movies, anime shows. We have talked of some serious things, but not too serious for a first date. I sense a depth to him, an emotional intelligence that I haven’t experienced in a while.

I know it is time to go home but I really don’t want to go. I don't say it out loud. “I want to see you again,” I say instead, “I have had a really amazing night.”

I can see that he too seems reluctant to let the night end. “How about breakfast for our second date? In the morning? I have had an amazing night and I want to see you again too, if its not too forward.” My eyes widen at that, my lips slightly apart as I draw in a breath.

“I would love breakfast,” I say, “and its not forward at all.” He walks me to the door, I lean in for a last kiss. It is a lingering kiss, and it leaves me a little unsteady. I think I give a little giggle but my mind is so abuzz I'm not sure.

I get downstairs to my car and get in. My heart is racing and though there is a chill in the air I am warm all over. I look at the seat beside me and see something else I had gotten at the farmers market where I bought the apples. I smile to myself, a little mischievous smile.

I knock. He answers the door, a little puzzled but still smiling. “Did you forget something?” His brows furrows slightly.

I hold up eggs, a little nervous. “Technically, it is morning. I make the greatest scrambled eggs you have ever tasted.”

He laughs from the belly, as he has several times this night, and pushes open the door, “You think to seduce me with scrambled eggs?”

I brush past him, and arch my eyebrow at him. “First of all, I said the greatest scrambled eggs you have ever tasted. Secondly why are you assuming I would be seducing you, rather than the other way around? I don't typically sleep with someone on a first date.”

“Technically, this is now our second date,” he says as he shuts the door.

“That’s a really great point” I reply.