eat your heart out, bobby flay.

cooking is a labor of love.
especially when my lovie is the one doing the cooking. 

and as far as i'm concerned,
the food could have been burnt to a crisp.
it would have been totally worth it to see my lovie in his 
chefs hat. and apron. 

c'est si bon.

i had a hard time not kissing my chef.
as he would never tolerate the distraction in 
his kitchen. 

being a man who strictly sticks to cooking 
oatmeal. eggs. cereal. 
(does cereal even count?)
our little date night was quite an adventure.

chef mills.
gained a new found enjoyment of cooking.
and a new found admirer.
yours truly. 

here is the plot. 
{you will want to get comfy. this is rich}

miles and miles away.
in los cabos, mexico.
a private & intimate herb garden awaits our arrival. 

in the middle of the garden, a full outdoor kitchen,  
with mirrors on the ceiling for viewing pleasure, 
is waiting like an empty canvas.
lovie grabs his paint brush, ok, his spatula.

after a mini lesson from the exec chef, 
it is go time for my lovie. 
and, boy did he go. 

he chopped. sliced. and diced.

he poured. blended. and stirred.

he dolloped. 

all the while sporting the cutest little get up.

he made things sizzle. and steam.
per usual. 

and sauteed to perfection. 

and knew when the risotto had reached al dente. 

mussels. clams. octopus. crab legs. and scallops.

combined with the risotto.
mmm. mmm. mmmm.

add some sauteed baby veg.
 and you got yourself one heaping dish of culinary success. 

and it was divine.

i left the night with a full tummy. a big smile. and a proud heart.
this self proclaimed food critic applauds you, lovie.

i would love to share the recipes,
but you would have to ask the chef for his secrets.
but i am fairly certain the great flavor came from an extra dash or two of love.

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