Wanna lick my spoom?

A fellow blogger offers tips on dating.  For men.  They’re interesting.  Good, even.  He offers such gems as:

1. Acquire a “grown-up” email address.  beer4eva at blah blah dot com (not a real email, I hope) should leave you when you leave your college dorm. No self respecting woman will take that seriously. Or, respond.
2. No kissing on date number 1. Oops. 




He offers other tips, but really, you’ll have to read them  yourself. 

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Re-lighting the Pilot

I am not a chef.  I’ve never been to culinary school.  I think I have an untrained nose, and I’d wager some would argue I have an immature palate (I’d disagree). Yet, I love food.

I love making food, reading about food.  I steal menus when I can, to read and re-read the culinary treasures I tasted, and to study and fantasize (and maybe try to recreate) those that I didn’t.   I have more cookbooks than I’ve actually used.  Reading the recipes, how the flavor combinations would materialize,  I’m lost for hours.   My favorite cookbooks are those with simple, basic ingredients in their recipes, bringing new life to a chicken breast, making simple herbs exciting (chicken baked in white wine, butter, and lots of fresh thyme? Some say “boring”, I say “subtle, simple, comforting and good.”).

I have cookbooks with exotic creations inspired by Thailand, France, hippie communes, Michelin-starred chefs and celebrity vegans.  I love them all.


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How Hot Are Your Cakes, Baby?

There is no such thing as a better-than-sex cake. Cake is cake. Sex is sex.
The first time I tried a “Better than Sex Cake” I will admit, I was more experienced at having one over the other (go on, guess.).  I was not impressed.  I think it was chocolate, or chocolate-y.  It may have involved whipped cream and had a couple of layers to it. 
 I think I first ate this concoction at some office gathering.  It may have even been a contest or baby shower, or some other nonsensical food event.  The office women with their Married Hair cooed, chirped, and ahh-ed over this life-altering cake.  The men did not. Why?
It’s cake.

A Slow Simmer

Food, dating, and sex are three very distinct pleasures each unto themselves.  But , I state the obvious.

Food can bring me pleasure , really, unlike anything else. 

Toast dripping in butter, sauteed mushrooms, rare beef tenderloin…grits souffle (I know, it sounds outrageous.  Magnolia Grill’s is pure bliss)… All of these have driven me to a point of such distraction that I did not want to return.  Really.  If I could eat only that grits souffle and nothing else (and still fit into my car, much less my clothes), I would.

I do not love to date.  I date in the search for pleasure (the kind I *can’t* get from food), and in the hopes of finding a connection.  There has to be a connection. If there’s no chemistry, we’re done.  Sorry.

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low flame

Good food and good men are the same, really.

They both can excite me , make me sweat, leave me wanting more.

They’re hard to come by.

Welcome to my search for both.