Valentine's Day is less than a week away. And? you say. Surely you don't buy into such a trumped-up, commercialized holiday! Ah, but love. Love. How can you resist a day set aside especially for the celebration of Love? Consider dispensing with the chocolate and fancy reservations and wrapped presents, but do compose a poem or arrange a fragrant nosegay. Draw a hot bath, or proffer a massage. And by all means, cook something indulgent for your beloved. Rather than the rich, heavy foods that seem to be the norm—how sad that short ribs have been rendered cliché—you may want to consider something a bit lighter. Fondue or a Japanese hot pot, perhaps, to underscore the shared nature of the meal. Is there anything more intimate than two forks clinking together in the same bowl? Serve a dry martini or a delicious fruity wine to set the mood. Whip up a sweet finish that lingers in the mouth as you sing each other's praises. If you are not in love at the moment, it's also wonderful to be with close friends, and celebrate another kind of love. There are so many. Take it wherever you can find it. It's healing, energizing, essential. It's everywhere. All you need is love. (And this wonderful recipe from Dan Barber, chef/owner of Blue Hill.)
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When I was growing up, every 7 years my family lived in Spain. My father was a professor of Spanish literature, and he spent his sabbaticals doing research, writing and collecting the Sephardic ballads that were his specialty. The year I turned 15 there, my sisters (5 and 7 years older than I) were already out of the house, so I was  essentially an only child. I went everywhere with my parents, which meant a very diverse cultural life (opera, theater, dance, symphony, museums, galleries), lots of meals out and visits to some very fancy Madrid residences. Perhaps because we were in Europe—or maybe it had something to do with the almost exclusively adult company—the rules relaxed a bit and I was often allowed a glass of sherry, cointreau or vino tinto. This set the stage for expanding my appetite, too, and I tried many unknown delicacies: octopus, white asparagus, kidneys, membrillo. The latter was a deep-amber-colored jelly that was often brought out with the cheese course (another novelty), a sticky, sweet confection to pair with the rich oily Manchego. At the time, I had never seen a quince, and it's a bit of a leap anyway from that fuzzy, essentially inedible fruit to this jammy nectar of the gods.
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