(Very long food post under the cut. They'll get shorter after this)
There are advantages to being retired; staying at home and enjoying a beautiful fall day is one. Someone once told me I’d be bored retired, but I’m not. There’s plenty to do.
We spent the morning having a spirited discussion about what color we would repaint the spare room. Bucky leans towards this soft sage green, where I prefer a light yellow. After twenty minutes of circular arguments, it’s obvious we’re not going to agree, and we’re going to end up picking something else entirely. At times like this, we go to our respective corners and regroup.
If the kitchen is Bucky’s domain, the garden is mine. With a kiss on my cheek, he disappears into the kitchen, and I hear the fridge open as I head out into the garden to do some work before winter buries everything. There’s something satisfying about planning a garden, tending it, watching it bloom. I’m lost in my plans to expand the herb section when the puppies take off barking, and I look up to notice the sun is low on the horizon. I hear Bucky call out that it’s dinner time. I pull off my gloves and head inside to wash up.
The scent of cinnamon and yeast fills the house, and it’s a sure sign that Bucky’s been making cinnamon buns. I slip into the kitchen, wash my hands, and I’m surprised to see the table bare. “In the dining room,” I hear him call out. I’m surprised to find the formal dining room table set, the lights dimmed. We usually sit opposite each other, but he’s set the table with the two of us on one side, all spread out before us. When I quirk an eyebrow at him, he shrugs, “I’m in a mood.”
The newest batch of canapes sits on their trays. I pull out our chairs and sit a fraction of a second after Bucky. Glancing at the canapes, I laugh when I see the little toast rounds. Bucky slides two rounds onto my plate, then two onto his, and I pick one up and take a bite. There’s a burst of roasted garlic, tomatoes, basil, and parmesan cheese. I’d happily eat these, and I glance over to see Bucky’s already finished his. He shrugs, and I know what he’s thinking, “Yeah, nice, but not what you’re hoping for.” He smiles, takes a bite of his next one, “There’s a reason it’s a classic. I like the tomatoes.” Bucky gives it a 6/10, and I’ll agree with that.
Reaching over, he plucks the cover off another tray, and I see him perk up in his seat. He hands me the card, and I read ‘Honey Mustard Chicken Bacon Bites.’ There are three bites on my plate when I look down, and I notice Bucky’s chewing slowly, eat closed with a look on his face that can only be described as bliss before he blinks his eyes open and practically purrs, “These. These are the shit. Look at that crispy bacon. I’d want these every day of the fucking week. Get the recipe, Stevie.” Bucky gives these a 10/10. I like life, so I give them a ten as well.
Pulling the cover off the next tray, I hear Bucky inhale, and I’ll admit to being a bit in awe as well. “Yorkshire’s, I love love love them,” I hear Bucky whisper, and I nod. Bucky gives these an 8.5/10, and I think they’re a 9/10.
Pulling the cover off the last tray, I look at the little meatballs covered in sauce, and I’m not so sure. Bucky makes a face, grabs one and pops it into his mouth, and chews. “Oh! Now, these, these are unexpectedly good, Stevie,” he says as he takes one from the tray and holds it out of me to try. I accept the bite from the little wooden fork, and my eyes widen. They’re juicy, rich. The sauce is tangy, sweet, with just a hint of heat. “They don’t look like much, but the sauce is so good.” I agree. We give them a 9/10
I’ll admit being nervous about the first two dinner choices, I have no idea what to expect, and I want everything to be perfect. Everything we’ve been through, a love we could never express publicly until now. I need this day to be perfect. Just one perfect day for my love, that would make me happy. He sets the first dinner in front of me, and I admit I deflate a bit. It’s so. “Meh,” I hear Bucky mutter, “looks kinda bland.” The card says that ‘Turkey and Spinach Manicotti.’ If it were for anything other than our wedding dinner, I’d say okay, but it’s nothing special. 5/10
The lid comes off the last plate, and I stare at the chicken. I don’t know how to describe the smell of the chicken, and it makes my mouth water thinking about it. I grab the card. As I read, Bucky cuts into the chicken, stuffs a piece into his mouth, and makes a sound only I ever hear. I turn and stare at him as he chews, and I swear no one loves food as much as he does. “MY GOD,” he moans, “I’d give up sex for the rest of my life if I could eat that every day. Look at it, Stevie, how juicy it is. It’s cooked to perfection, and the flavor?” He moans loudly, “I think my taste buds are having an orgasm.” I put my fork down and watch him eat until he looks at me in horror and feeds me a few pieces, and I have to agree that the dish is delicious. The recipe card says that this is Roasted pepper, pancetta, and asiago stuffed chicken. Bucky says he gives it a 78463/10 (no, I have no idea where he comes up with the numbers). I’ll give it a solid 10.
(If you want the recipes for these things, they'd on Steve's interest page. https://www.pinterest.ca/captainsteverogers1990/_saved/ )
