(On the phone yesterday afternoon)
Beast: Are you going to be home for dinner tonight or what?
Foodie: I think so, if I can get my shit done. It might be late, like 9:30pm.
Beast: That’s perfect. I’ll be home by 9:00pm, and I’ll bring dinner.
Beast: I’m going to bring home some homemade lasagna and eggplant parmigiana from the espresso place across the street from work.
Foodie: They started making food?
Beast: Yes, and don’t be a snob about it. It’s really good. They’re from Rome you know.
Foodie: I wasn’t being a snob about it! I’m sure it’s going to be great.
Beast: Can you pick up makings for a salad?
Beast: Caesar salad please. And can you pick up one of those frozen garlic breads with cheese on it?
Beast: Great. See you tonight.
We met just on time, shortly after 9:30pm, in the kitchen.
Foodie: I think this is going to be the first night we’ve had dinner together at home in about three weeks.
Beast: I KNOW–and I had to make it!
Foodie: I wouldn’t call you bringing home prepared foods making dinner. Anyway, it’ll be–wait: what pants are you wearing?
Beast: What, these? You bought them for me a few years ago, from H&M I think.
Foodie: Wow. That’s a seriously cool outfit. You’ve got my Dior belt on, and…are you wearing my ring?
Beast: Just as a joke, but I’m thinking I might start wearing rings. What do you think?
Foodie: Absolutely not. I won’t allow it. And I thought you were against cool pants?
Beast: Whoops–I did it again!
Foodie: Did what again? Be cool again?
Beast: Exactly. Would you please help me? I’m doing everything here! Can you at least open up the pre-packaged garlic bread?
Foodie: This is disgusting. It’s covered in oil! Feel it!
Beast: No way. Please don’t skimp on the bacon bits in the salad.
Foodie: Everything we’re having tonight comes from a package–the bacon bits, the croutons, the romaine lettuce, the lasagna and eggplant parmigiano, and even the fucking garlic bread. This is horrific.
Beast: This is amazing. This is a perfect dinner in my eyes.
Foodie: It really is, isn’t it? You love frozen lasanga.
Beast: This lasagna is not frozen! It’s really good!
Foodie: Fine. I just want half a piece of each please.
Beast: That’s all I was going to give you anyway. The other lasagna is for my lunch tomorrow.
Foodie: You’re being awfully sassy tonight.
Beast: Well you’ve left me home alone for A MONTH!!!! Give me the bottle of Zin that Aaron brought you and I’ll open it up. (Footnote: Aaron was a student at the school in Florence where I was a teaching assistant. He and his roommates were all extraordinary people with whom I still keep in touch. He stayed with us for two nights earlier this week–an experience which will provide the subject for the next post–and brought a bottle of zinfandel for me, remembering that I loved it many years ago.)
Foodie: I can’t watch you open up a bottle of wine wearing a ring.
Beast: Relax man! I bet you won’t tell your F&B readers that you used to love Zin.
Foodie: I can’t believe you just said F&B and Zin in the same sentence.
Beast: Zin is sogauche. Aren’t you embarrassed?
Foodie: That was, like, eight years ago! People’s palates for wine inevitably change over time. Oh God.
Foodie: Eight years ago, I was still older than you are now.
Beast: And I’m old enough to know that zins are for fuck brains.
Foodie: I think there’s a time and a place for them.
With our plates loaded up, and our wine glasses filled with a lovely, not-over-the-top, zinfandel, we made our way into the living room. The Beast turned on the TV and tuned into a baseball game.
Foodie: This eggplant parmigiana is really, really good!
Beast: I told you you’d like it.
Foodie: Why is the stadium at this baseball game so full?!
Beast: It’s the World Series.
Foodie: Since when do you watch baseball?
Beast: I don’t. You can turn it, but TV is shit. At least watching baseball doesn’t make you feel bad about the human condition.
Foodie: Wow. Would you say that about all sports or just baseball?
Beast: Just baseball. Did you try the lasagna yet?
Foodie: I did. It’s good, but I like the eggplant parmigiana better.
Beast: Will you go get me the other lasagna?
Foodie: I thought you said that was for your lunch tomorrow.
Beast: You’re right. I’ll take another glass of wine then.
I filled up our glasses and then we curled up on the couch. While the Beast watched the baseball game, I read a magazine.
It’s nice to be home.