I’m a wee bit of a Luddite when it comes to technology and had to wait, oh, about thirty years, for the old-fashioned film lab to develop this photo of me all ready to go out to my next party on our blog progressive dinner. This is the dress I wore to Emerald’s fancy dress affair. Most of the time I just went in casual dress—or au naturel as many of the hosts preferred.
I’ve got a split personality when it comes to clothes. Most of the time, I like casual and comfortable. As in jeans or sweat pants, like Sommer Marsden (in fact, exactly like Sommer Marsden—hear that, Herr Doktor?). But then there are times when I just love to pull out the stops and dress up in shimmery things, pin up my hair in fancy retro do’s and doll myself up in the kind of lipstick that leaves dangerous marks on collars.
Back in college, I was a regular shopper at vintage clothing stores in NYC and that’s where I found this crinoline-skirted gown, which may have done its first tour of duty as a bridesmaid's dress. And who says you can never wear those things again? I like it because it makes my eyes look green, gives me an impressive bust (look, I’m not really obsessed with this, it just sounds that way, okay?), and whisks me back through the decades to another era. I’m not sure why I look so serious. Perhaps because all the fashion magazines show beautiful women with angry pouts or touch-me-not blank stares and I was trying to be like them? In reality, though, I like being touched. A lot.
Ah, but while I’m back on the topic of NYC, my goal for the next week or so is to finish up my blog diary of my book tour. And believe me, the best is yet to come….
By the time you have a few decades on you, you tend to get a little cynical about dreams. They seldom come true and if they do, it’s not quite the way you expected.
But sometimes, the realization of a dream turns out better than you could ever imagine. This is exactly what happened at the imaginary progressive feast, a romp through cyberspace with an amazingly generous group of erotica-writing pleasure lovers. When fearless chef and fellow foodie Kirsten Monroe and I started weaving our plans for a blog-hopping dinner, I expected a good party, given the caliber of volunteers who agreed to spend a day cooking, pouring tongue-loosening beverages and entertaining a crowd of commenters.
“Good party” doesn’t begin to describe it. What we got was a finger-licking fabulous bacchanal that took us around the world (in more ways than one), satisfying every urge with lovely views, delicious prose and sparkling inspiration for the writing life. Each host created a gathering that somehow expressed her or his character perfectly, and I’d say the sum of the parts made for a truly memorable symphony of a whole.
Frankly, I’m still floating in pleasant exhaustion from all the kissing, skinny-dipping, howling at the moon and confessing of deep dark secrets. It’s hard to believe that last week at this time I was pouring sake for eighty visitors while we enjoyed a dance recital and nibbled sesame-roasted pumpkin, all the while discussing sex manuals and other dirty books! One week later, the sensualists’ blog progressive dinner is but a memory…. but wait, actually it’s not because thanks to the wonders of the blogosphere, it will live on forever, each delicious course preserved in perpetuity, each host offering the same enchanting music, conversation and succulent goodies whenever a new guest shows up at the door.
And so I wanted to give a quick recap of each fabulous party if you missed it the first time around or want to revisit. I know I will, again and again, for after all, a memory is not so different from a dream….
Here’s a summary of our Sensual and Provocative Progressive Dinner ala Blog:
Sunday January 25--Amuse-bouche
Our first host, Craig Sorensen, started us off to a slow, sweet, sensual beginning in a cozy cabin in a snow-drifted forest where we amused our bouches with Sapporo beer and a plate of Sea Scallops and Bay Fritters, followed by Potato Poppers and Chili Rondeaux. These savories came in couplets, to be tasted, then tasted again a deux in a lingering kiss to the strains of "Lipstick Traces" by Michael Schenker. And indeed with a partner the flavors of these well-crafted dishes was more intriguing and complex. Craig's topic for discussion was, appropriately, kisses. First kisses, memorable kisses, the language of kisses. After my husband and I came back from the cabin we kissed a lot, enjoying each with new awareness, a pleasure that still lingers.
Monday January 26—Appetizer
After Craig got our lips tingling, Shanna Germain took charge of our fingers as we made our own appetizers with figs, goat cheese and prosciutto, a "hands-on" experience indeed. Appropriately, the discussion turned to the erotic power of hands, the electric shock of hands brushing “by accident,” the intoxication of caresses...and why it is everything tastes better with pork! Wednesday January 28--Soup
The ever-effervescent Jeremy Edwards and his co-host Helia Brookes welcomed us TV-style, in color-coordinated outfits, and they needed no laugh track to keep us chuckling. Over glasses of Fishnet Creek Old Vine Zinfandel, we stretched out our stocking-clad legs and sipped a voluptuous and spicy mushroom soup, perfect for a winter's day. The talk turned to literature and our earliest erotic influences. Our hosts asked us: "Do you remember moments of puzzlement, growing understanding, or arousal from reading? Did you ask an adult or a friend about it, or keep it as your secret? Did you have favorite passages you revisited for the pleasure they brought?" Click on over to the soup course to share in the confessions.
Thursday January 29—Fish
Neve Black whisked us off to Roxanne’s Brazilian Bungalow, the home of her literary alter-ego who’s sampled the bedroom skills of every man in the zodiac. During this South American idyll we listened to Astrud Gilberto sing “The Girl from Ipanema” as we sipped Caipirinhas and sampled spicy swordfish muqueca. Neve and Roxanne nudged us into a little reminiscence. “What's been your most memorable sexual zodiac sun sign experience?" In my case, I didn’t know where to begin…. Friday January 30--Meat Entrée
I knew my co-host, Kirsten Monroe, would know exactly what to do with raw flesh and I was not disappointed. With the click of the mouse we traveled from the beach to the Mojave Desert. The dress code was "naked" and before she womaned the blazing grill, Kirsten mesmerized us with a podcast of the story of “How the Mango Became Sweet.” Appetites aroused, we dug in to spice-rubbed lamb chops with chipotle cherry Pinot sauce and Peruvian Potato Dumplings with Tomato & Chile Mole Ragout, all perfectly complemented by some Torii Mor Pinot and Temptation Zin. Then Hell on Heels Burlesque Review took the stage in a memorable display of the art of pasties while we, too, exposed desires deeper than flesh when Kirsten queried: "What are your most dangerous and delicious wishes as an eroticist, as a writer? What is your Holy Grail as an artist?" I for one discovered desires I didn't even know I had. Saturday, January 31--Vegetarian entrée
Our next stop? Right here at Sex, Food, and Writing, or rather this was our point of departure for our journey to elegant Kyoto to sample some of Japan's uplifting Buddhist temple cuisine. Fine sake, a performance by geiko from Pontocho, and a taste of tofu with mushrooms and roasted pumpkin helped us adhere to The Middle Way. After dinner, we lounged in our yukata and perused erotic books from the eighteenth century, which were once given as wedding gifts to wealthy young ladies to instruct them in the marital arts. (That's "marital" not "martial"!) Our topic for discussion? "Where and when did you encounter your first “how to do the deed” book? Do you have a favorite? Ones you find fitting for critique? Which sex manuals are on your bookshelf right now?" What would your answers be? Monday, February 2--Salad
Next we put on our pink sequins and tuxes for a trip to Emerald’s Green Light District to give a boost to our stamina with some spinach salad full of goodies like yellow tomatoes, cranberries and pine nuts--served in green glass bowls, of course. To the accompaniment of “Any Colour You Like” by Pink Floyd we sipped Whaling Banshees and contemplated two lovely views by the magic of the blogosphere—one of flowers in bloom, the other of a forest dressed in snow. Our blood racing with the elixir of nature's bounty, Emerald turned the conversation to the seasons: "Which season do you find sexiest? Any particular one? Do you feel like the seasons influence your sexual experience? Seasonal memories you want to share? Or if you’re feeling ambitious, tell me what you think is sexy about each season." Join us for some of the most poetic writing of the feast amidst the greenery. Tuesday, February 3—Dessert
A confession--as much as I enjoyed every feast, every nibble of nourishment, a little voice was always whispering, save room for dessert! Sommer Marsden satisfied my desires to perfection with her multiple desserts, multiple obsessions and a wonderfully engaging discussion of fantasy fucks. I had a long list to begin with and added a few after indulging in heirloom cheesecake, Perfect Peanut Clusters (to compliment the perfect lovers) and Popcorn Cake for the kid in us all. Who is your fantasy fuck? You don't have to limit yourself to one--none of us did.... Wednesday, February 4--Truffles and Whisky
By the last course, we were all basking in the afterglow of indulgence and our host Nikki Magennis chose the perfect way to cater to our needs. She welcomed us to bonny Castle Comeagain in the wilds of Scotland--all men in kilts please (which was a mouthwatering vision in itself with so many lads of Scottish descent among us). As we lounged by the fire, to the sounds of gentle guitar music and poetry, comely serfs massaged our feast-weary shoulders. Nikki poured us coffee, which we could spike with a smooth, honey-flavoured Balvenie from Speyside. I took my whisky neat, and suddenly felt energized to help make heart-shaped cherry brandy truffles and crystallized cape gooseberries, which I popped into guests' mouths with abandon. Between bites we considered questions that served as the fitting conclusion to our feast, yet looked forward to further pleasures as well: "What does the future hold for erotica? What would you like to see happen, in the genre itself and in your own work? Look into the flames and tell me what you see …." Ghosts, shadows, dreams, come join our discussion with some of your own.
And now, bellies full, libidos satisfied, I want thank you all, hosts, guests (both quiet and chatty) and fellow sensualists for a truly fabulous feast!
Our truly amazing blog progressive feast has reached its final evening, and we're ending it in fine style in bonny Scotland at the enchanting Castle Comeagain. Our host, Nikki Magennis, has outdone herself by offering us the perfect combination of cherry brandy truffles, gooseberry candies, marshmallows and coffee, which you may have with a splash of Scotch whisky (although I'm taking my whisky neat ;-)
The topic of discussion is also perfect for our farewell and the shadowy hall haunted by ghosts and dreams--what does the future hold for erotica, both personally and as a genre? This amazing feast, so full of creativity, humor, good fellowship and sensual pleasure, gives me great hope for what we can all achieve as writers and cultural innovators.
It is also fitting that one of my favorite stories by our hostess is called, "Under His Hands, I Blossom" (from Yes, Sir), and I guarantee that if you join us in the castle hall (gentlemen wear kilts, please), you too will blossom with good cheer.
Listen, you won't be surprised to hear that while I was drooling and dreaming about each and every stop on our fabulous blog feast, a little voice inside my head was always purring "and then you'll get to have dessert, ooooh...." Sure, there was a wee chance I'd be disappointed because my fantasies about sweet things are so wild and elaborate. Still my heart started beating a bit faster this morning when I rolled out of bed and clicked on over to Sommer Marsden's blog for a peek at today's feast.
I'm not disappointed.
Sommer calls herself the "queen of multiples." Multiple orgasms, multiple obsessions, multiple desserts.
Were we separated at birth?
I'm going to go now because it's hard to write with my mouth full, but do join us for an orgy of delight: a dessert for the kid at heart, a dessert for the nibbler who likes sweet and salty combined, and a dessert for the traditional nosher. And we haven't even gotten to the more fleshly delights and naughty secrets....
Put on your fanciest clothes (I'm loving this chance to wear my emerald-green taffeta party gown!) and head on over to the Greenlight District blog of Ms. Emerald, one of the coolest and most sensual erotica writers I know. I still remember my first encounter with Emerald, her sassy and very sexy story "Deal" in Best Women's Erotica 2006. I was immediately enamored with the spirit and sensibility of this story and remember thinking, "I'd probably get along really well with this author. And gee, I kind of wish I wrote this hot story, too!"
As this fabulous blog dinner is making clear, sometimes wishes do come true, and indeed I have gotten to know the person behind the deal through email and then in the flesh last October--and she is a true jewel. As you might expect, she knows how to throw a sparkling good party. And what better February pick-me-up than a fresh salad loaded with goodies, a silky smooth cocktail and a poetic meditation on the sexiness of each season?
Welcome, most honorable guests, to Saturday’s stop on our free-wheeling, wide-ranging progressive blog feast. I know you have just arrived from a magical evening under the desert sky with Kirsten Monroe. My offerings today will be humble: vegetarian dishes from the Buddhist temples of Japan known at shojin ryori. I’ve taken the liberty of reserving a traditional Japanese inn for our modest banquet, and, naturally, arranged for your plane ticket to Kansai International Airport as well as ground transportation to the ancient city of Kyoto.
Ah, what’s this? We’ve already arrived! Don’t forget to take off your shoes as we step up into the entryway. Each party of guests will be escorted to their rooms by a kimonoed maid, who will offer tea and a local sweet before leaving you to change into the cotton kimono called yukata, which will be our lounging wear for the remainder of our stay. After you refresh yourselves and change, please meet us at the bath, which, because the entire inn has been set aside for our enjoyment alone, is open for mixed-sex bathing. (As an open-minded host, I’ll let you interpret the definition of “mixed-sex” as you will.)
Feel your muscles soften to taffy, breathe in the healing mists of the hot spring water. May I take the liberty of presenting some dainty snacks to whet your appetite? Here is a selection of rice crackers especially prepared for the new year. Some are flavored with plum-infused sugar, others with savory seaweed or roasted soybeans. All can be easily washed down with some Sakura Masamunesake, a personal favorite, although it comes from the Kobe area and the inn procured it for me as a courtesy. But I wanted to share this beverage with you because it was the very first fine sake I ever tasted. I’m sure will agree the complexity and depth of flavor on your palate is remarkable.
The pleasure of the drink is no doubt enhanced by the presentation in my special collection of antique Chinese erotic wine cups. Observe how the couple moves beneath the ripples of this gently bracing beverage. One might think they are enjoying themselves as much as we are.
As we bathe, our murmurs of gentle pleasure rise softly in the steamy air. Our feast thus far has involved much untrammeled merriment—and yet at this moment our gathering is rather subdued and serene. And yet, my honorable guests, a certain inward focus, not to say repression of our desires can ultimately lead to a most satisfying release. So argues the noted rope-mistress, Midori, in her shibari handbook for Westerners, The Seductive Art of Japanese Bondage. And as writers, we do know that formal constraints often, ironically, liberate our creativity.
But such topics might best wait for our after-dinner chat. I’m told our evening’s entertainment has arrived. Let us don our robes and adjourn to our tatami banquet room, where we will enjoy a private concert by a geiko and apprentice maiko from the Pontocho geisha district. These accomplished dancers are performing for us thanks to an introduction by Liza Dalby, the only American to work as a geisha.
I will admit this is my first “traditional” dance concert as they were originally meant to be viewed—in intimate surroundings with a small party of friends. The elaborate cherry blossom dances open to the public are indeed gorgeous, but to have the honor of enjoying the talents of these artists in this way is exactly like inviting Weird Al Yankovic to sing a few favorite tunes in your living room. Well, not “exactly like,” but you get my drift.
May I pour you more sake? A good host sees that her guests’ erotic wine cups never go dry. I see our meal has arrived. Maids place individual lacquered tables before each of us in the formal style. To the left is a dish of Tofu with Mushroom Sauce. Those of you who’ve only tasted supermarket tofu, which is made to blend innocuously into a curry or stir-fry, will be amazed at the subtle, yet distinctively fresh soybean flavor of this “silken” tofu. I’ve asked that the sauce be lightened for our Western palates—less sugar and salt, the better to appreciate the subtle earthiness of the mushrooms, which may remind my earthier guests of certain portions of the male anatomy, but I digress.
To the right is a plate of Roasted Sesame Pumpkin with Peanut Sauce. Japanese pumpkin, or kabocha, has an edible green skin and was one of my great discoveries in Japan. I’d only known pumpkin as a stringy jack-o-lantern or a canned mush for Thanksgiving pies. But Japan’s version reminds me of good rice pudding—smooth, but with a toothsome resistance. During my first stay in Kyoto, I was taught an old saying that "real women" are fond of pumpkin. My continuing passion for the vegetable has reassured me of my femininity in times of doubt ever since, although "he-men" have been known to appreciate it as well.
As you see, the peanut sauce is a perfect blend of sweet and tart and the recipe might serve well for a crudite plate when we return to the States. The combination of tender pumpkin and protein-rich sauce is quite a happy marriage of textures and flavors.
(An aside—my apologies that I neglected to take photographs of my own miserable efforts with these dishes, but rest assured, the recipes have been tested for taste and ease of preparation.)
Although not strictly an entrée, the inn has provided small bowls of delicious steamed white rice and rustic miso soup. We eat slowly, meditatively, a nourishment for the spirit as well as the body, enjoying the “now” of each dainty mouthful. Light as it is, this food seems to have magical properties. Rather than “filling” our stomachs, it merely erases the animal growl of hunger as an inked brush might blot out the whiteness of paper. Just as easily, it seems to turn our blood to pulsing radiance. Our bodies float now--even without the buoyant water of the bath. We are easy in our skins, and our minds open out like a cherry blossom, boundaries and false dualities dissolving.
"The floating world," or ukiyo, is a Japanese term that embraces two meanings. The original sense of the word referred to the Buddhist concept of worldly illusion--the material world is rooted in nothingness--but by the seventeenth century it came to refer to the pleasure quarters and the fantasies one could only indulge in within its gated walls.
We’ve enjoyed so many pleasures over the past week of our progressive dinner—lips, hands, laughter, dance, skinny-dipping and slathering cherry-Pinot sauce on our naked flesh. I’d like now to honor yet another: the erotic potential of the airy and limitless realm of our imaginations. Which floating world shall we choose to enter this evening? Or need we choose at all?
The maids arrive to whisk away our trays, so I’ll take this opportunity to bring out some 18th century books of erotic prints by my favorite artist, Suzuki Harunobu. Harunobu has been the inspiration for a number of my stories. He also makes an appearance in my first novel as the favorite artist of one of my alter-egos, an older Japanese man who is at home in Japan’s after-hours world of sexual self-indulgence. I’m drawn to Harunobu’s work for numerous reasons—the wistful, intelligent faces, the relatively “realistic” depiction of the genitals, the stories that seem to hover above the page, whispering their secrets. These shunga, or “spring pictures,” were of course used by their wealthy owners as a prelude to self-pleasuring. They were also purportedly used as sexual manuals and presented to rich men’s daughters as a form of education for their marital duties. Thus, perhaps it is appropriate to focus today’s discussion on sex manuals of every type—illustrated, wordy, retro or myth-shattering. Where and when did you encounter your first “how to do the deed” book? Do you have a favorite? Ones you find fitting for critique? Which sex manuals are on your bookshelf right now?
Isn’t it amusing to think that was once reserved for the wealthy is now available to ordinary folk such as ourselves? Then again, in spite of the lean times, hasn’t our feast shown us how very rich we are indeed?
Please linger awhile to chat, sip sake, and nibble on mandarin jelly, but feel free to retire alone, or better yet with a partner, whenever the spirit of Harunobu moves you. When you return to your room, you’ll find your maid has already laid out your futons--the two fluffy mattresses laid side by side and close enough for the fine cotton sheets to kiss--for your night’s rest. Once in private, there is no longer need for decorum or restraint, unless you choose to explore the latter territory with the help of the soft belt of your cotton robe and Midori's manual ;-). Do sleep well, for on Monday we will travel far yet again to enjoy the hospitality of the lovely Emerald, who will serve, most appropriately, a delectable salad.
1 14 oz. tofu, silken if available 1 3/4 oz. mushroom caps, two or three types such as shimeji, enoki, fresh shiitake or button 1 2/3 cups konbu stock (see below) 3 Tablespoons soy sauce 2 Tablespoons sake 2 Tablespoons mirin 1 1/4 oz. carrot, peeled and julienned 2 Tablespoons cornstarch dissolved in 4 Tablespoons water Strips of green beans, blanched, for garnish
Wrap the tofu in a paper towel or non-fluffy tea towel, sandwich between two plates and refrigerate for 30 minutes to remove excess moisture. Break the enoki or shimeji into bite-sized pieces and cut the other mushrooms into thin slices. In a frying pan combine the konbu stock, soy sauce, sake and mirin and bring to a boil. Add the mushrooms and carrot. Lower the heat to medium and cook for another 3 to 4 minutes. Cut the tofu in half and place in the frying pan, taking care that the tofu halves do not overlap. Cook on low heat for 5 minutes. Add the dissolved cornstarch, and stir gently without breaking the tofu until the sauce thickens. Cut the tofu into four pieces and serve hot in individual bowls, topped with the mushroom sauce and garnished with a green bean strip.
Konbu (Seaweed) Stock
1 2/3 cups water 1 4-inch piece dried konbu seaweed
Place the water and konbu in a saucepan and leave to soak for 2 to 3 hours. Place the saucepan over medium heat. Just before the water boils, remove the konbu. Use the stock in recipe as directed.
Roasted Pumpkin with Peanut Sauce for Real Women and the Men Who Love Them (Serves 4)
2 Tablespoons roasted sesame oil 2 Tablespoons water 14 oz. Japanese pumpkin with seeds and stringy fibers removed and sliced into very thin slices
Sauce
6 Tablespoons unsweetened natural peanut butter 2 teaspoons white miso or 1 teaspoon red miso 2 Tablespoons sake or white wine 3 Tablespoons lemon juice 2 Tablespoons mirin
Combine the oil and water in a flat-bottomed bowl. Dip the pumpkin slices to coat and place on a foil-lined cookie sheet. Bake at 400F for about 15 to 20 minutes or until browned, turning halfway. To make the sauce, combine all the ingredients in a bowl and mix until smooth. Arrange the pumpkin artfully on individual serving plates and top with the peanut sauce.
What are your most dangerous and delicious wishes as a writer? (Do they involve fire? Meat? Plenty of spice? A red-haired woman who knows how to do it just right?)
It's a thought-provoking question, and right now I'm a bit tipsy on Torii Mor Pinot Noir, so I'll just give the first answer to slide from my lips.
What I really want right now is to head on over to the blog of my daring and talented co-host, Kirsten Monroe, for some Spice-Rubbed Lamb Chops with Dried Cherry Poppin' Chipotle Pinot Sauce. But that's not all you'll find to amuse yourself there on this let's-hang-loose Friday. There's a hot spring full of slippery bodies, some enchanting storytelling for your aural pleasure, and a burlesque show that will wow you with the myriad of artistic possibilities for pasties. Oh, and some willing masseurs to knead your tense muscles to taffy.
But what am I doing here yakking? I'm going back to Kirsten's to chat, feast and enjoy.
Mmmmm, this caipirinha is very tasty and it goes perfectly with this spicy fish stew! Sorry for the late start, I'm on Brazil time, taking it easy on the terrace overlooking the beach in Ipanema. There's music, there's stargazing, and as always the genial conversation is both pleasurable and educational. I now know that my Chinese astrological sign is the metal ox, like Barack Obama. We're the sign of "hard work brings achievement." Let's hope so!
If you're looking for some enlightenment or just a great plate of swordfish stew in some good company, head over to Neve Black's where she and frisky astrologer Roxanne are hosting today's stop on our blog progressive dinner.
This party is knocking my socks off--good thing I'm at the beach!
I was right, a fine soup always tastes richer and spicier after an overnight rest! Pop on over to Jeremy Edwards' room-with-two-views to sample the tasty results for yourself. Prepare yourself for some savory indulgence, delightful humor and a soupcon of danger. Ladies (and gentlemen if you dare), I advise wearing your fishnet stockings because after a few sips of our charming hosts' Fishnet Creek wine, you'll be reminiscing with the rest of us--with shocking, amusing and very familiar confessions in abundance.
For those of you who are new to our dinner, please feel free to comment under a pseudonym or anonymously. We love to bring new voices to the party.
And finally, I just have to point you to Nikki Magennis' wonderfully clever book trailer for her new novel, The New Rakes. I just have to know what's happening inside those pages--well done! Thank you, Jeremy, for your wonderful book release party yesterday.
My lips were still singing from yesterday's kissing fest over at Craig's, when I clicked on over to Shanna Germain's pad to see what she was cooking up as our blog feast appetizer.
Shanna says she wants my hands, and with her signature seductive prose, she now has my every last tingling digit and more besides. Fresh from reading her transporting story of Amsterdam's Old Town, "Red Light, Green Light," in X: The Erotic Treasury, I knew she was going to throw a provocative party, and it's an understatement to say my expectations were very much exceeded.
Step into Shanna's kitchen with us and get ready to lick some fingers--although you may not want to visit during work hours. The sensual visuals and steamy prose might earn you a reprimand from the boss--right after he memorizes the URL for his own purposes when he's "on break" in his office behind closed doors.
As I mentioned in my post below, I’ve been dreaming of being part of a progressive dinner since I was in elementary school. Immediate gratification was not to be mine in this desire, but you know, sometimes it is definitely better to wait until the time is ripe.
That time is now.
The sensual feast of my dreams has just begun over at Craig Sorensen’s blog with the amuse-bouche course and oh, my, I am not only amused, I am enchanted and transported. Craig truly takes us on a journey, beginning with a hike through the snowy woods to our secluded cabin (an irresistibly romantic setting) where, appetites aroused, we sample succulent tidbits in pairs—and I mean that in more ways than one. Suffice to say, I'm glad I brought my husband with me.
It’s no surprise that with Craig’s magical way with words, my lips are now tingling and my palate is singing with the heat and the spice and the thrilling blend of flavors we’re sharing.
I can’t think of a better way to be amused and delighted on a winter Sunday.
I’m a wee bit of a Luddite when it comes to technology and had to wait, oh, about thirty years, for the old-fashioned film lab to develop this photo of me all ready to go out to my next party on our blog progressive dinner. This is the dress I wore to Emerald’s fancy dress affair. Most of the time I just went in casual dress—or au naturel as many of the hosts preferred.
