February is definitely the month of romance and love. But forget lingerie and roses, food has become synonymous with the perfect romantic moment. I for one am pretty happy about this seeing as roses make me sneeze and lace is too scratchy and itchy for my taste!
Everywhere you turn there are restaurants advertising their Valentine’s Day menus featuring foods that are often thought of as romance enhancers, like oysters, champagne and chocolate. Grocery store flyers are filled with specials designed to tantalize the senses through plump red strawberries and succulent seafood. They seem to be telling us that with the right food, you have a better shot at love. And it just might be true. When I think back to all the romantic or love filled moments in my life, the one thing that comes rushing back to me is what or where I was eating.

I may not be able to remember the name of my date who took me to my first “fancy” French restaurant (a bad handlebar mustache comes to mind though) but I can recall with clarity the juicy, garlicky escargots I had.

For my wedding (not to the handlebar mustache guy!) I was adamant that I didn’t want a sit down meal but food stations that featured a different chef and cuisine at each area. Didn’t give a hoot about the flowers or invitations but I was a Bridezilla when it came to the food!

When my husband I moved to Australia and were working together, it is the quaint local restaurant that we frequented every Friday night for the first few months and Fire Gully red wine that helped keep our romance strong in times when we could easily have come to blows; anyone who has worked with their partner will know what I mean!

Even when I feed my family, love is always at the forefront. Why else would I bother taking the extra time to make their favourite home made applesauce instead of opening a jar or spending 45 minutes stirring risotto on a busy Tuesday night but to see their faces light up with pleasure and to hear their little boy voices say, “Thanks mom, you’re the best cooker ever.”

So after 15 years of marriage, I’ll tell my husband to save his money on the French Maid’s outfit and flowers. Instead we’ll splurge on sweet crab legs with champagne dipping sauce and a chocolate soufflé. But hey, if he wants to throw in the odd diamond ring, who am I to spoil his fun!