Some Like It Hot...

Now that I'm over a month into my promised moratorium on Martha, I've been forcing myself to not only expand my repertoire beyond recipes from Martha Stewart but also to dessert items other than cookies. With that in mind, I decided to use up the leftover cream and milk from last week's banana cream pie and Boursin mac and cheese in order to try my hand at ice cream again. After all, given the unrelenting summer heat we've been experiencing this summer, I'm eager to sample just about every frozen dessert I can get my hands on.

Despite my recent mishap with David Lebovitz's apple sorbet recipe, I had long had a recipe from The Perfect Scoop for Mexican hot chocolate-inspired ice cream in my recipe queue, and I felt long overdue in finally giving it a try. As I've wrote back when I tried his recipe for cinnamon ice cream, cinnamon might just be my favorite flavor. I love it in all kinds of dishes, both sweet and savory, and hot chocolate is no exception. When I was in college, for instance, I very seldom imbibed alcohol, and didn't have my first alcoholic beverage until well after my 21st birthday. As a result, my greatest vice by far was the Aztec hot chocolate they sold at the coffee shop in the main campus library, which I would often pick up on the way to class with a scone or croissant. Without a doubt, those spicy, cinnamon-spiked hot chocolates are the only campus food I still crave from those days.

Hence, I was inspired when I got my copy of The Perfect Scoop several years ago and saw Lebovitz's recipe for Aztec "Hot" Chocolate Ice Cream, even though it's taken me an embarrassing number of years to eventually get around to making it. I was particularly excited to try this recipe because it creates a Philadelphia-style ice cream, meaning the base contains only milk and cream, no egg-based custard. I feel less intimidated by such custards than I did when I first got The Perfect Scoop, but making them is still a hassle, and calls for a ludicrous number of egg yolks, leaving me with a surplus of whites that I can never figure out what to do with, short of making myself a very health-conscious omelet. Most Philadelphia-style ice creams don't require heat of any kind (a godsend in hot weather), though this particular recipe does call for boiling the cream in order to melt the chocolate. Still, it was an easier recipe than most, and that definitely drew my attention.

I think I actually preferred the eggless ice cream; the flavors that resulted were cleaner and more crisp, without that subtle background note of egginess that I've noticed in the custard-based ice creams I've made in the past. The mouthfeel was a bit chewier almost, definitely more toothsome, but still creamy overall. Of course, given the flavors involved -- chocolate, cinnamon, and a touch of heat from chili peppers, there was really no doubt that I was going to love this ice cream. When you place a spoonful in your mouth, you get the flavor of rich, deep chocolate right away, followed by a wallop of cinnamon, and then a lingering spice that creeps up on you as you continue eating. I simply adored this ice cream, and given how simple it was to make, you better bet I'll be making it again soon.


Aztec "Hot" Chocolate Ice Cream
adapted from David Lebovitz

2 1/4 c. heavy cream
6 tablespoons unsweetened Dutch-process cocoa powder
3/4 c. sugar
3 oz. semisweet or bittersweet chocolate, chopped
1 1/4 c. whole milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
pinch of salt
1 1/4 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper, or 2-3 teaspoons ancho or chipotle chili powder
2 tablespoons vodka

Whisk together the cream, cocoa powder, and sugar in a large saucepan. Heat the mixture, whisking frequently, until it comes to a full, roiling boil (it will start to foam up). Remove from heat and add the chocolate, then whisk until it is completely melted. Stir in the milk, vanilla, salt, cinnamon, chile powder, and vodka. Use an immersion blender to blend for 30 seconds, until very smooth.

Chill mixture thoroughly in the refrigerator, then freeze it in your ice cream maker according to manufacturer's instructions.

Bundles of Joy...

Let me just start off by saying that I am NOT pregnant.

No, the title of this post refers to a different kind of joy in life, one that is far more appropriate to my current situation and life goals. By this, of course, I mean the pleasure that can be derived from small bits of savory fillings gently swaddled in tender dough and cooked for my dining satisfaction, i.e. dumplings. I started out this month by trying to acquire some dumpling-making skills of my own and today I closed out the month by finally making it to the Pierogi Festival in Whiting, Indiana, after years of misadventures that thwarted my attendance.

The fantastically kitschy/retro Pierogi Fest logo.

Have I mentioned lately that I have the world's best boyfriend? I'm not sure how many guys would cheerfully sign up for a day of eating hot dumplings in the hot sun, especially when they're not fond of crowds, but Justin did, and I am so, so grateful to him for finally making my dream of pierogi nirvana come true.


Unfortunately, we happened to arrive in Whiting at the worst possible time -- too late to be able to find street parking nearby, but too early to catch the free shuttle from the remote parking lot. We ended up schlepping a very long way by foot, which might have helped us burn off a few pierogi calories, but it was really too hot and sunny to make up for it. Also, the extra time spent in the sun might have contributed to the wicked sunburn I developed across my shoulders and back, despite giving myself a thorough basting with SPF50 sunblock before leaving.


The Pierogi Festival was every bit as corny as I imagined it would be, from the babushkas tied on the birds in the fountain above, to the Mr. Pierogi Songfest that we made it just in time to catch. There, the festival's mascot, a man dressed in a life-size pierogi costume, sings and leads others in singing pop songs that have been rewritten with pierogi and Polish-food-centric lyrics, such as "My Pierogi" instead of "My Sharona." One of my goals for the day was to get my picture taken with Mr. Pierogi, but alas, we never managed to run into him walking through the crowds after his act. Still, I was glad to have taken in part of his awesomely terrible performance.

Mass pierogi preparation.

And, of course, many, many, many pierogis were consumed. At first, I tried to keep track of how many we'd eaten, but it was just too difficult. My best guess is that we eat somewhere between 20-30 dumplings each, the most exotic of which was a deep-fried, Cajun-spiced alligator version that wasn't particularly tasty. After that flop, we avoided the other novelty pierogis like the taco version offered by a Mexican-themed cart, and pizza-rogis (basically tiny calzones) from an Italian vendor. Having a narrower palate than Justin, I limited my tastings to potato, potato and cheddar, and meat pierogis, while he sampled a variety of different dumpling flavors such as cabbage, sauerkraut, mushroom, sweet cheese, spinach, and probably others that I can't remember.

Further proof of my best boyfriend ever hypothesis: he agreed to make this face when I asked him if I could take a picture of him with the pierogis on a stick.

My favorite pierogis of the day came from a vendor who decided to go the state-fair route and skewer their wares, creating pierogis on a stick. Something about food on a stick just screams "Summer!" to me, and the presence of the wooden rod through their center really added a certain je ne sais quois to the eating experience. Plus, the dumplings from them were particularly succulent and moist, so they were especially delicious on top of the novelty factor.

Hot, sweaty, and sunburned, but happy.

Did the Pierogi Festival live up to the expectations I'd built up in my mind after years of abortive attempts to attend? Actually, I think it exceeded them. The Festival was much larger than I would have expected, and there was a pleasant, laid-back vibe about the place. It would have been nice if it hadn't been quite so hot, but given that we're wrapping up the wettest July in Chicago history this weekend, I guess I should just be happy that we didn't get rained out.

I'd certainly go back, though I might try to get there either at the beginning of the day or later in the afternoon, once the hottest part of the day had passed. Compared to the Taste of Chicago, it was a much more affordable way to spend an afternoon stuffing one's face. I mean, come on, it's a day spent surrounded by delicious pan-fried dumplings and related kitsch -- how bad could that be?

One Love...

Today, I was lurking on Pinterest, skimming through all the various photos, projects, and phrases that had inspired others, when I ran across one that hit home with me. The quote was attributed to Bob Marley, though when I tried to do some sleuthing, I came across multiple variations on the same quote, so it's hard to say if he even actually said those words, or how he really said them if he did. In the end though, it doesn't really matter who said them, because I think there's a lot of wisdom behind the sentiment:

He’s not perfect. You aren’t either, and the two of you will never be perfect. But if he can make you laugh at least once, causes you to think twice, and if he admits to being human and making mistakes, hold onto him and give him the most you can. He isn’t going to quote poetry, he’s not thinking about you every moment, but he will give you a part of him that he knows you could break -- his heart. Don’t hurt him, don’t change him, and don’t expect for more than he can give. Don’t analyze. Smile when he makes you happy, yell when he makes you mad, and miss him when he’s not there. Love hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect guys don’t exist, but there’s always one guy that is perfect for you.

While I was reading through the various other quotes dubiously attributed to Marley, I also came across another passage on the topic of love that I liked even better than the original that launched my search. Bear with me, as it's kind of a text block, but it's worth reading through the whole thing:

Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around. You tell them things that you’ve never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and actually want to hear more. You share hopes for the future, dreams that will never come true, goals that were never achieved and the many disappointments life has thrown at you. When something wonderful happens, you can’t wait to tell them about it, knowing they will share in your excitement. They are not embarrassed to cry with you when you are hurting or laugh with you when you make a fool of yourself. Never do they hurt your feelings or make you feel like you are not good enough, but rather they build you up and show you the things about yourself that make you special and even beautiful. There is never any pressure, jealousy or competition but only a quiet calmness when they are around. You can be yourself and not worry about what they will think of you because they love you for who you are. The things that seem insignificant to most people such as a note, song or walk become invaluable treasures kept safe in your heart to cherish forever. Memories of your childhood come back and are so clear and vivid it’s like being young again. Colors seem brighter and more brilliant. Laughter seems part of daily life where before it was infrequent or didn’t exist at all. A phone call or two during the day helps to get you through a long day’s work and always brings a smile to your face. In their presence, there’s no need for continuous conversation, but you find you’re quite content in just having them nearby. Things that never interested you before become fascinating because you know they are important to this person who is so special to you. You think of this person on every occasion and in everything you do. Simple things bring them to mind like a pale blue sky, gentle wind or even a storm cloud on the horizon. You open your heart knowing that there’s a chance it may be broken one day and in opening your heart, you experience a love and joy that you never dreamed possible. You find that being vulnerable is the only way to allow your heart to feel true pleasure that’s so real it scares you. You find strength in knowing you have a true friend and possibly a soul mate who will remain loyal to the end. Life seems completely different, exciting and worthwhile. Your only hope and security is in knowing that they are a part of your life.

Who knew Bob Marley was so (allegedly) wise?

Whether he wrote these words or not, I think they capture my feelings about love perhaps better than I ever could. Not a day goes by that I don't think about how lucky I am to have found Justin, and how happy I am to have him in my life. Things might not always be easy, but they will always be worth it. After all, to quote another famous musician, "All you need is love."

Stambul Not Constantinople...

Although we've established that my tastes in entertainment don't quite trend towards the high-brow, I found myself in attendance at a performance of the Chicago Folks Operetta, a theater company dedicated to reviving forgotten Viennese and American light operas, or operettas, from the late 19th to early 20th century. It wouldn't have exactly been my first pick, but Justin's family is tremendously fond of the opera and of all things Austrian (owing to their family heritage), and they had invited me to come with them. I was slightly trepidatious about the experience, but determined to be open to it at the same time.

The show in question was The Rose from Stambul, a classic tale of mistaken identity, set in Istanbul. There, Kondja, the daughter of a high-ranking official, has been given a Western education and now finds the rules and strict customs of Islamic society to be stifling. Her father arranges a traditional Turkish wedding for her, to a groom she has never met. Meanwhile, Kondja has fallen in love with a European author who writes the illicit romance novels of which she is so fond, and has struck up a correspondence with him. As it turns out, the European novelist doesn't actually exists, he is merely a nom de plume created by Kondja's Turkish betrothed so that the fictional works he pens as a hobby will not be censored. Of course, hilarity ensues as Kondja's husband competes with himself for her affections, and takes three acts to convince him that he and the author are one and the same.

Thankfully, I found The Rose From Stambul to be less slumber-inducing than the regular opera, perhaps because the operetta is considered to be the forebear of modern musical theater, and we all know how I love musicals. Although the vocalists were classically-trained and sang in a style similar to that of the opera, there was spoken dialogue, everything was translated into English, and the pace moved along at a more lively rate. I wouldn't call it my favorite theatrical experience of the year, but it was also far from the worst (that dubious distinction goes to Laika: Dog in Space followed by White Noise).

The actors and actresses in the production were all impressively talented for a show staged at a small venue, though they weren't without their problems. The performer cast as Kondja, for instance, seemed slightly miscast to me, as she was really rather homely in appearance, whereas every character in the show spent their time complimenting and singing of her famously renowned beauty. The man who played her husband, Achmed, had a beautiful voice as well, but it was clear that English was not his first language and he was exceedingly difficult to understand, both in his spoken dialogue and his singing. His talent might have been better suited to a performance that wasn't in English, where his accent would have escaped unnoticed. Still, they were an undeniably skilled group of performers.

In the end, I'm not sure to whom I would recommend The Rose From Stambul; musical theater lovers might find it a bit old-fashioned for their tastes, while opera lovers might find it a bit frivolous. Perhaps opera aficionados who don't take themselves too seriously would enjoy it? If you fall into that category, by all means, give it a shot.

7 Dresses - The Inadvertent Remix...

As I mentioned last week, it was obscenely hot last week in Chicago. So hot, in fact, that I basically couldn't bear the thought of wearing any more clothing than absolutely necessary, and I came to realize by the end of the week that I'd accidentally repeated my "Seven Dresses" experiment from last May. At that time, I had tons of dresses that I never wore, so I launched a mission to explore the depths of my closet and let my dresses see the light of day.

I ultimately didn't learn much from my experiment other than that I perhaps shouldn't over-analyze things so much, but it did break down some of my mental barriers to wearing dresses when I'd spent the vast majority of my life in pants. Ever since that week over a year ago, I've tried to wear a dress at least once a week, and given my desire to look nice for my boyfriend and when I go out to see my friends, I've been sticking to my goal and then some.

However, since I also hate shaving my legs, pants still play an important role in my wardrobe. This week though, I just couldn't stand the thought of fabric touching my legs in the oppressive heat, so dresses became the order of the day, and I still haven't broken down and put on pants yet this week either. Since you guys seemed to enjoy that voyeuristic glimpse into my closet last year, I thought I'd recreate last week's line-up of dresses, none of which were repeats from the last "Seven Dresses," due to my weight loss earlier this year. Some of the pieces were new, and some of the pieces were holdovers from a skinnier time in my life that I optimistically hung on to over the years. Without further ado, here they are:


Day One: I bought this dress back in March, when spring and summer clothes were just starting to show up in stores. It was still way too cold in Chicago to wear it, but that didn't stop me. Initially, I paired it with tights and some purple flats and just tried to think warm thoughts while I wore it out to such events as seeing Working with Justin, and Mother's Day brunch. I like that it has just enough pattern, but not too much, and above all else, that it has sleeves. As I mentioned on Day Four of last year's series, I don't know why dresses with sleeves are so hard to find, but given the heat, it was nice to not have to throw a cardigan over this dress. This dress has definitely gotten a lot of wear the past few months, and it's one of my favorite things in my closet right now.


Day Two: This dress came to my closet courtesy of my best friend, Lisa, who very generously gave me a Macy's gift card for my birthday. I could have used it for something practical, and I actually intended to use it on shoes but I couldn't find any that thrilled me in the entirety of the State Street store's enormous shoe department. A new dress was the next natural step, and this one caught my eye. It's perhaps the most flattering of all the pieces I wore this week, and it even looks acceptable without the matching cardigan, despite the fact that I generally don't like showing off my arms in public. I think the vertical stripes and embroidery serve to elongate my body or something. The studded details on these sandals from last year go perfect with the beading on the dress (which is hard to see in this picture, but is very much there). I think this dress has somewhat of an Eastern European folk costume aura about it, and I've noticed various Eastern European men checking me out when I've had it on. Ladies seem to like it too, and I've directed several to the dress department at Macy's so they can get one of their own.


Day Three: I found this dress when I was out hunting for something to wear for my birthday party this year, and it stood out to me both because it was purple (which is my favorite color for clothing) and because it had ruffles, which might just be my favorite clothing detail. I feel like it strikes just the right balance between casual and dressy, and as a result, I've worn the crap out of it ever since I bought it in late March. It's a perfect transitional piece for wearing to the office and then out for after-work activities with either Justin, friends, or both. In fact, I've worn this dress so many times that I actually noticed a hole in it when I wore it that day, and I'm a little bit devastated about it, to be honest.


Day Four: Ordinarily, I would consider this dress too fancy to wear to work, but after sweating all day in the first three dresses, they all needed to be washed and I was running out of work appropriate dresses. Considering this was the hottest day of the week, there was no way I was going to wear pants, so I sucked it up and wore this sundress that I originally purchased to wear to Easter brunch. I'd originally brought a different dress home to wear that weekend, but it was a wardrobe holdover from college and while it once again fit, Mom and I agreed when I tried it on the day before that it didn't fit well, so we ran out at the last minute and found this dress. I liked the graphic nature of the pattern, and the bold contrast between the flowers at the bottom and the black and white body of the dress. You might also notice that I skipped wearing a shrug that day, despite my policy of never going out with bare arms. It was just too damned hot, and after a certain point, I just didn't care anymore.


Day Five: I cheated a bit on Friday, since I was officially out of work-appropriate dresses, but I included a skirt on Day Six of last year's "Seven Dresses" so I figured I was still in the clear. I had to perform a bit of DIY trickery to make this outfit work, because I actually don't have any summery skirt options that still fit me. This skirt was a full two sizes too big and a bit too long (I didn't discover until I was looking at the pictures from last year's "Seven Dresses" that anything below the knee actually makes me look shorter and I've subsequently adjusted my shopping strategy), so I hiked it up Steve Urkel-style, folded over the waistband so it was the correct size, and secured it with a bunch of safety pins. Since my top wasn't going to be tucked in and the skirt was relatively full, nobody could notice my ad hoc tailoring job. And do I really even need to explain what drew me to this skirt in the first place? One word: circles.


Day Six: I dusted off this look after pulling it from the closet and trying it on a half dozen times or so already this summer but never working up the nerve to actually wear it. I got this little number back in the summer of 2007, and wore it to a variety of events in conjunction with my graduation from Washington University in St. Louis, including both my graduation party and the family party my aunt Faye held in my honor. It technically fits again, though it's too long for my current taste, but it is by far the most form-fitting, body conscious outfit in my entire wardrobe. There's nowhere to hide in this dress. I figured I was safe wearing it today because the only people who'd see me would be Justin (who I'm fairly sure is fond of my figure) and my friends Natasha and Travis, who we'd invited over for dinner. Because this strapless dress has always had a tendency to not stay in place at the top, I paired with with a t-shirt underneath that also rarely makes it out of my closet. I'd ordered it from the Gap's website, where it looked like a lovely shade of pink, but when it arrived, it turned out to be roughly flesh-colored. I couldn't exactly wear it in public, but I thought it might make a nice layering piece, and I think this outfit proved me right.


Day Seven: Since I'd committed to going to Ravinia with Justin and would be spending a substantial amount of time outside, I needed another dress to stay cool. With the pickings getting slim in my closet, I decided to go with this dress, which I bought on end-of-summer sale last year. Due to the unfortunate timing of its purchase and my subsequent weight loss, I figured I'd never get a chance to actually wear this dress, as it is now too big. It's probably my least-flattering look of the week, but I tried it on with a variety of bras until I found one that allowed me to situate the embroidered bust properly. The sweater served to obscure the straps. I still got compliments on this look (and not just from Justin either), so it must not have been too bad, but it was definitely my least favorite dress of the seven I wore this week.

Ultimately, this installation of "Seven Dresses" was less of an experiment and more a matter of practicality. I did notice, however, that when it's brutally hot outside, dresses seem more a practical choice than a stylistic one, and virtually nobody comments on you being "dressed up." I do feel like I got better mileage from my wardrobe than usual, but at the same time, I would just as soon the temperature cool down so I can stop waking up at 6:30 every day to shave my legs to make them presentable in a dress. Seriously, Mother Nature, enough already!

And now, my question to you: Which look is your favorite?

It's Ladies' Night...

Deep down, I think I'm a bit of a homebody. I could easily and happily stay home most of the time, but that seems like a waste given all the entertainment opportunities available in the city on a daily basis. Blogging has been my way of making myself accountable for getting out and leading a more well-rounded life, and even though all this running around occasionally exhausts my inner recluse, I know it's good for me. In particular, I've been focusing lately on hanging out more with my friends, and diversifying my social calendar, which I think has been going quite successfully.

One of the best parts of my summer has been the biweekly girls' night dinners I've been setting up with Sarah and Stephanie, old friends of mine from high school. We've tried a couple different restaurants, but we keep returning to La Madia, where I first went during Restaurant Week earlier this year, and which has quickly become one of my favorite, reasonably-priced spots in the downtown area. It only took one visit to convert Sarah and Steph, and now they're spreading the word to their friends as well. Pretty soon, when we can't get a table there, we'll regret having shared our secret.


My friendships are important to me, and it's always been sad to me how much less time I've been able to spend with my friends on a consistent basis ever since I graduated college and we no longer lived within a mile of each other and operated on more or less the same schedule. I'd gotten used to seeing my friends only occasionally and sporadically, but making a regular date with some of them has been a reminder of times gone by. For lack of a better word, hanging out with these girls every other week has been healing. I can't really express how good it's been for me to get together, share in each others' lives, and really get to follow how things in their lives are unfolding. The support, validation, and deep belly laughs that we share uplifts me and leaves me in a fantastic mood every time we see each other.

Tonight's girls' night will be our last for a while, as Stephanie is headed down to St. Louis to start her Ph.D. in art history at my alma mater, Wash U. Her presence will be missed, but we plan to get together again whenever she's in town. I'm lucky to count these girls among my friends, and I already can't wait for our next girls' night out!

A Little Night Music...

I am a very competitive person by nature, so this is very hard for me to admit, and if you ask me later I might deny it, but my boyfriend just might be smarter than me. At the very least, he is open to a greater realm of experiences than I am. Not only does he enjoy the opera and possess a greater appreciation for the avant-garde, he also likes classical music. In fact, if the atmosphere I've observed at his parents' house (where classical music is a constant background accompaniment to all forms of activity) is any indicator, he was probably reared on the stuff. I, however, do not share his fondness.

I know, because I've been taught, that classical music has complex structures, reoccurring themes and motifs that you can follow, and all manner of other intricacies to be admired, but I just don't get it. My favorite part of listening to music is the craft of songwriting, and hearing how different artists combine words to not only sound harmonious together, but to evoke very tangible emotional responses. Therefore, to be blunt, I find classical music boring. Without words to focus on, my mind starts to wander, I zone out, and eventually I start to drift off to sleep. I can't seem to help it.

Hence, when Justin's parents went out of town for the weekend and left him with a pair of tickets to the Chicago Symphony Orchestra they weren't going to be able to use, I hesitated when he invited me along. Wanting to spend every possible moment with him, however, I decided to overlook my disinterest in the event and go. After all, Justin is always such a good sport about doing things I want to do that I figured the least I could do was return the favor.

Besides, the concert was at Ravinia, the outdoor concert venue mere blocks from my parents' house, that draws a range of (fairly sedate) musical acts all summer long. In addition to being the summer home of the CSO, Ravinia plays host to adult contemporary performers like Rufus Wainwright and Jennifer Hudson, retro acts like The Moody Blues, Deep Purple, and Hall and Oates, midday children's concerts, and a variety of vocalists performing show tune revues. It's not exactly the hippest lineup around, but it draws a fairly robust suburban audience, and it is particularly popular for its so-called "lawn seating" where you can bring a picnic, a set of lawn chairs, and sit under the stars with your friends and have a little party while you enjoy the music (that is when you aren't being eaten alive by mosquitoes.)

Although you can often hear bits of the Ravinia concerts from my parents' backyard, I hadn't set foot on the grounds since I graduated from high school in 2003 (the amphitheater is the preferred venue for many North Shore high school and middle school graduations), so I thought it was perhaps time to give it another shot. Additionally, I couldn't remember going to an actual concert there since I was very young, when my mom would take me there once a summer to see Peter, Paul, and Mary, the 60s folk group whose music I adored as a child. It seemed like high time.

Don't worry, I've been dutifully informed that it is terribly uncouth to take photos at the symphony. My bad.

The program for the evening featured two pieces, Brahm's Violin Concerto in D major and Beethoven's 3rd Symphony in E-flat major, also known as the "Eroica" Symphony. To me, the first piece seemed interminably long, though I was impressed by the violin solos performed by concertmaster Robert Chen, who performed the entire piece from memory with no sheet music. Logically, no musician gets to that position without having some serious talent, but that guy had skills, no joke.

I enjoyed a bit of a nap during the Brahms, but managed to stay awake for almost all of the Beethoven piece, though I did divert myself somewhat by reading through the Ravinia program book. Justin is apparently quite fond of Beethoven, and, bless his heart, he thought I would enjoy him more than Brahms, but no such luck. Rather than focus on the music, I spent much of the performance watching the musicians on the projection screens, trying not to burst out in laughter over a particularly animated flautist whose eyebrows rapidly raised and lowered in time with the music. I think Justin was worried my head might explode from having to hold it in.

At least Justin seemed to enjoy the concert, which is all that really matters in the end. For me though, the highlight of the evening was this:

The music might have been too high-brow for me, but I was happy just to be spending time with the man I love. Justin's presence makes a wide variety of events I would ordinarily find miserable infinitely more tolerable, and it almost doesn't matter what we're doing, as long as we're doing it together. I guess love will do that to a person...