Why is it that we put any stock into Valentine’s day? Why do silly betches intentionally eat ice cream alone on the couch to wallow in their own self-pity? Why do your average crazies contemplate sending themselves flowers at the office? Why do men strive to find a V-day date even if it’s through a first date on Tinder?
Well betches, I clearly don’t know because I personally have never put much stock into February 14. Mind you, I’ve never had a serious valentine since my 6th-8th grade girlfriend (jokes), barring my perpetual valentine, my mother (She still sends my sister and I – and now brother-in-law – presents). Yet, am I not the best specimen to ask then? I have never felt sad, lonely, or depressed on V-day, rather this year I channeled empowered, optimistic, and independent.
To that regard, Nance and I decided to throw a “Fuck men, I got my betches” party this year. Only singles invited. Regular betches in relationships were not on the guest list as it was important to assert that single something to be proudly owned as we played single-driven games throughout the evening.
As always I made an assortment of appetizers with a showstopper dessert course. For this dinner party, I tied aphrodisiacs into the menu even though the sexual food was entirely lost on a crowd exclusively of girls and gays.
Alas, A simple salmon tartare composed of cucumber, walnut oil, a hint of truffle oil, along with fresh spices and lime juice started the meal. With its color and decadent accompaniments, a perfect amuse bouche, no?
Next I made tarragon cream of tomato soup served along side a blood orange and coat cheese crostini (á Baguettes Monges á la mode Maison Kayser). The V-day theme came through loudly through the red color with honey in the blood orange marmalade representing the aphrodisiac element.
We had to end with my favorite: dessert. I am still on the quest for the perfect chocolate cake but I think I landed pretty close this time. I used the Blackout Chocolate cake recipe from Serendipity 3 (Probably the best chocolate cake I’ve ever had). The cake was very moist although still slightly too dense, in my opinion. My dinner guests kept raving about it for days after so at least it was well received. Perfectionist problems.
This year, like the previous two years, ended in tears (sequentially: betch, bitch, betch), none of which being mine of course. Something about the day makes people nostalgic, self-deprecating, causing them to lose their shit. As always, I consoled as best I could, without really understanding why a day can cause so much strife.
Ironically enough though, both Nance and I had valentine’s dates offered to us this year but we turned them down for our party. I think that says enough about us. Are we mavericks who unite and empower the singles? Maybe that’s a bit much, but I would much rather be flanked by Blake and Ivanka on a Friday night then go out on another date with a guy I’m only “Eh” about. I understand how V-day can be another day to dote on “Mr./Mrs Right” if that person is a mainstay in your life, but for now I think I’ll keep showering my friends with extravagance and good food to pass my V-days.