As you may have gathered, I am in love with Alton Brown. His quirky humor, his smarty-pants thoughts on the science of cooking, his genius recipes, and his adorable receding hairline and nerdy style are the complete package, as far as I am concerned.
But before I continue praising the wonders of Alton, You should know that I don't come by this opinion lightly. I watched A LOT of Food Network in order to come to that conclusion. For example, I know that Bobby Flay just isn't all that he is hyped up to be, I mean, maybe he's can grill a few things, but he doesn't get the real art of cooking, and everything he does is the same, with the chilis and the fruit blended together. Giada has a big head. Too big for her body. So big that I can't actually take her seriously as a chef, because anyone who actually makes and eats all that pasta would have a body more porportionate to her head size. And Emeril is also just a bunch of catch phrases and recipes that never actually work out. And please don't even get me started on Rachael Ray. But Paula Dean could be my new best friend if she wanted to (I even have an autographed cookbook, thanks to the quick thinking skills of my brother when he met her in an airport, she told him to give me "all her love" in her adorable drawl), and the Iron chef Chairman is dreamy, and the Barefoot Contessa is a genius with her herb garden and even the nasty mean judge Kerry Vincent on the cake challenges has some good points to make.
But Alton is better than all of them. I still remember the first episode I ever saw, when he talked about the chemistry of using eggs (they are an emulsifier, in case you needed to know) and hhe explained the science of every step of making something wonderful, and then he did it! And with the science and the explaining, he taught me how to vary things to make them my own too. Oh Alton. Be still my heart.
So here is my very favorite Alton recipe. Now mind you, just because it says its mac and cheese, and its not from a box, doesn't mean its scary or takes a ton of time. It's really quite simple, takes only as much time and effort as the whole from-a-box stuff as far as I am concerned, but its worlds better. And you should play around with the spices so you get something you love. His are great, you can't go wrong with this recipe, but if you don't have them, just throw in some that you do have and love. I don't use the bay leaf and paprika anymore, I prefer herbs de provence and garlic.
I'm telling you, this stuff is amazing. (the crust on top is my favoritest. yum. Now I have to make this tonight.)
In a large pot of boiling, salted water cook the pasta to al dente.
While the pasta is cooking, in a separate pot, melt the butter. Whisk in the flour and mustard and keep it moving for about five minutes. Make sure it's free of lumps. Stir in the milk, onion, bay leaf, and paprika. Simmer for ten minutes and remove the bay leaf.
Temper in the egg. Stir in 3/4 of the cheese. Season with salt and pepper. Fold the macaroni into the mix and pour into a 2-quart casserole dish. Top with remaining cheese.
Melt the butter in a saute pan and toss the bread crumbs to coat. Top the macaroni with the bread crumbs. Bake for 30 minutes. Remove from oven and rest for five minutes before serving.
Not too surprised there! Nancy, I will get you the gift card ASAP! Thanks for sharing your trauma, and now you are the CHAMPION of Bad Dates. Be proud of that title.
This if for Megan, who was sad that Alton Brown was not in any of the pictures under the intro post for this topic. He's just for you :)
I'm pretty sure Nancy will have something to say about this man, so I won't say much...
Here's his most popular recipe on Foodnetwork.com
Fried Chicken
Recipe courtesy Alton Brown
Prep Time:
20 min
Inactive Prep Time:
--
Cook Time:
20 min
Level:
Intermediate
Serves:
3 to 4 servings
Ingredients
1 broiler/fryer chicken, cut into 8 pieces
2 cups low fat buttermilk
2 tablespoons kosher salt
2 tablespoons Hungarian paprika
2 teaspoons garlic powder
1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
Flour, for dredging
Vegetable shortening, for frying
Directions
Place chicken pieces into a plastic container and cover with buttermilk. Cover and refrigerate for 12 to 24 hours.
Melt enough shortening (over low heat) to come just 1/8-inch up the side of a 12-inch cast iron skillet or heavy fry pan. Once shortening liquefies raise heat to 325 degrees F. Do not allow oil to go over 325 degrees F.
Drain chicken in a colander. Combine salt, paprika, garlic powder, and cayenne pepper. Liberally season chicken with this mixture. Dredge chicken in flour and shake off excess.
Place chicken skin side down into the pan. Put thighs in the center, and breast and legs around the edge of the pan. The oil should come half way up the pan. Cook chicken until golden brown on each side, approximately 10 to 12 minutes per side. More importantly, the internal temperature should be right around 180 degrees. (Be careful to monitor shortening temperature every few minutes.)
Drain chicken on a rack over a sheet pan. Don't drain by setting chicken directly on paper towels or brown paper bags. If you need to hold the chicken before serving, cover loosely with foil but avoid holding in a warm oven, especially if it's a gas oven.
I want to hang out with this lady, and I want to grow up to be her one day. Paula Deen! Today I heard her say "If there's a way to fit in an extra calorie to a recipe, you know Paula'll find it!" I love that.
I am friends with "Food Network" on facebook, and it posts recipes every day. Today it posted this from Paula:
Toffee Brownies
Recipe courtesy Paula Deen, 2007
Prep Time:
8 min
Inactive Prep Time:
--
Cook Time:
25 min
Level:
Easy
Serves:
24 large/48 small brownies
Ingredients
1 (17.6-ounce) package brownie mix with walnuts
Vegetable oil cooking spray
3 (6-ounce) candy bars with almonds and toffee chips (recommended: Symphony brand)
Directions
Prepare the brownie mix according to package directions.
Line a 13 by 9-inch cake pan with aluminum foil and spray with vegetable oil cooking spray. Spoon in half of the brownie batter and smooth with a spatula or the back of a spoon. Place the candy bars side by side on top of the batter. Cover with the remaining batter.
Bake according to package directions. Let cool completely, then lift from the pan using the edges of the foil. This makes it easy to cut the brownies into squares.
Major yum and so easy! I need to make these, ASAP. PS: I have more Food Network posts to come, so you'll have to indulge me by allowing me to post as much as I want. It's my blog, I'll do what I want. :)
I am going to leave the Bad Date Hall of Fame polls open until the end of the week. So if you haven't voted, do it! And if you have voted, you can vote again and I won't tell :)
New topic...new topic...
All I can think of is food. Blame the pregnancy if you will, but even before I was pregnant I loved food.
Do you guys watch Food Network like I do?? I might be a little obsessed.
Here's the question of the week: 1) Who is your favorite Food Network Chef and why? And/OR 2) What is your favorite cookbook? (This question is for those of you who don't watch Food Network, congratulations on having more of a life than me.)
Include a favorite recipe from your favorite person or cookbook if you are feeling ambitious.
I've told this story before. I've even blogged it before. The thing to remember is that I am a nice person. Not overly so, just normal and respectful and not entirely unfortunate looking. I mean, I've had my fat and mean days just like every girl, but generally speaking I like to think of myself as nice and average. And every girl, particularly the very most average of us, has bad dates. I'm sure every guy does too. What happens is that the average manage to somehow get paired up with someone who is so far below average as to make the rest of us look positively celestial in our average-ness. (Think about how often you see the nicest guy friend you have and are probably secretly interested in go out with some probably gorgeous girl who totally manipulates and destroys all of his kindness... I know it sounds like a Taylor Swift song, but talk about below average! )
I digress. Let's recap: I'm nice. I'm normal. But since I've had the experience, so it might as well be worth its weight in storytelling. The damage has been done, I hate hate hate dating.. I'd even rather do laundry than go on a date. (And that is a something if you know how much I hate doing laundry, with that starchy feeling on your hands and the sneezing and the waiting and the folding...) I hope then that you all enjoy the fruits of my misery.
I've been known to be a lousy date. Not mean or frightening, just kind of socially dumb. Boys get that scared rabbit look at the end of the date, and sort of shove me out of the passenger side door of their car before pealing out as fast as their 1992 sedan can turn around. I used to joke about it too, and the people who know me outside of the social pressure of dating would feel bad for me and "fix me up" with people. Ah the blind date. A cultural phenomenon directly in opposition to the natural selection of the species. It is punishment for the socially odd inflicted by the well meaning but misinformed. I worked at an elementary school, and I loved my job and my co-workers. We had so much fun in that office and in that faculty lounge. I wasn't socially weird among my co-workers, who were primarily women and as accepting and kind as elementary school teachers should be. They didn't understand why I had such limited success, and it wasn't long before talk of "setting me up" got started. My friend and school secretary "Jill" asked me one day how I would feel if she set me up on a blind date with someone, and I told her that I was just fine with it as long as he didn't have a prison record. I thought I was joking, but she got very quiet for a moment and then said "I'll think of someone else then." Enter awkward silence.
Ooops. Oh well, some things should be obvious, right?
Of course this made it so that the next time she approached me with a blind date prospect I was both more hesitant to trust her judgement as well as more hesitant to make jokes or ask for specifics. I agreed to go and she passed along my phone number to Jake.
What makes someone decide that two of their friends are just right for each other? Is it simply because they are both single, and at 27 and 29, there must not be very many options left? At some point people must decide that because I am a.) a returned missionary, b.) graduated from college, or c.) over 25, I should learn to take what I can get? Oh yes, there she goes, that sad sad SINGLE girl. I bet its because her standards are too high. She wants someone who is both breathing and that has an IQ greater than a rusty bobby pin.
Oh dear, I'm on another tangent. Someone needs to keep me on target here.
Jake was 29. I was 27. That's about where the match made in heaven ended. He called the very same night that Jill gave him my number. He asked me what I studied in college, and I said music. His response should have been my first clue.
"Oh I LOVE music!" and then he launched into an un-interrupt-able spiel about his music collection. Of 80's hair bands and 90's alternative stuff. Now don't mis-judge me here. I do love most music, and there is a place in my heart even for a few of the 80's hair bands and the 90's alternative stuff. But when someone says they studied music in college, it generally does not indicate that they have a deep affinity for screaming guitars and biting heads off of helpless dachsunds. His enthusiasm for metal and the mainstream left me wondering what the heck I was getting myself into.. He kept asking me if I had heard of such and such and so and so, and he was appalled that any music person would not have. I finally managed to communicate to him that the heaviest metal I was familiar with would be the French Horn and the most mainstream vocalists were probably the King Singers. Oh well, he said. When should we go out?
Side note: If boys happen to be reading this, particularly single boys who may be asking girls out, blind date or not, you don't call without a plan. You call with a plan, and then you can either make the plan flexible or acknowledge that things aren't going to happen. But you absolutely must have a plan.
I made him come up with a plan. He arranged for 6:00 on Friday night, mini golf. Early, and not entirely creative, but it had details I could work with.
Let's move forward to the actual date. He was on my doorstep at 6:00. We got in his car and he began telling me about himself. I should mention here that it was early march. Chilly, and the plan was for mini golf. As we drove and I listened to him blather on about himself, a nagging part of my brain wondered if he had had the presence of mind to see if the mini golf place was open. Surely he was at least that smart? Ah no. It was still closed for the season. He drove to the next mini-golf place, same story, he drove to two more, you'll never guess, all closed. Now it is 7:30. He has, in the time it took to drive to four mini-golf locations, been bragging to me. His self-proclaimed greatest skill in life is that he knows how to do the absolute minimum work required at any job.. He prides himself on never doing more than absolutely necessary. He brags about the evidence of this skill. What evidence? Well, he has only been fired 3 times. All of his other jobs kept him on because they couldn't think of anything to fire him for. The most recent firing was from a telemarketing place, and he was OK with that because he didn't like them anyways, even if they did pay more than any of his other jobs. Wow wow wow. How do you thing of the correct and polite conversational responses to that?
I was kind of getting hopeful. Maybe since all the mini golf places were closed, he could just take me home and we could be done with the experiment in misery. I should be so lucky. He decided a movie would be a great substitute for mini golf. We began stopping at movie theatres to see what was playing and when. The first movie theatre had nothing beginning for another 45 minutes, so we went to the next theatre. And so forth. We had been driving north looking for mini golf places, now we reversed course and began checking movie theatres as we headed back south. For another hour we drove to every theatre between North Ogden and Layton. By the time we finally got to the Layton Theatre, we could have been half an hour into the movie in Ogden. We got to Layton, he chose a movie that was starting in 35 minutes, because he wanted to have time to run to the store for candy. He didn't consult me on a movie, he simply chose and bought the tickets while I waited in the car so he wouldn't have to park.
We went to the dollar store, and he bought himself 3 bags of his favorite candy and some soda. He informed me that since he didn't plan on having to pay for a movie, he didn't have enough money to get anything for me. Nice. When we got out to the parking lot, he asked me to hide his candy and soda in my bag and my coat, so he wouldn't get caught sneaking it in. I was nearly speechless at this point, and my reflex was to start playing the role of some other person. I told him I felt too dishonest about that. Now I know any of you who have been to a movie with me can attest, I bring entire meals in. There is nothing quite like sitting through a romantic comedy with chinese take out, or a classic drama with coldstone and a burger and fires. But I wanted to see him struggle, so I made him feel guilty. Lovely Passive-Aggressive me. We went back to the theatre and took our seats. The movie began, and suddenly he said "This is a Stephen King Movie, I hate scary movies".
I was aware of that. I was aware because I hate hate hate hate hate horror movies, in my brain I am thinking "way to go, jerk. It's only been advertised and in theatres for a month now. You would have to live under a rock to not have known that." Whatever. I was beyond words at this point, so I shrugged and sat there. About halfway through the movie, he leaned over to me and told me the rest of the plot. I asked him how he was so sure and he said "I love this stuff. It's always so cliche and predictable."
Blithering Idiot. What was his motivation in lying and telling me this type of movie scared him? I can only imagine, and most of what I imagine causes shudders in the deepest core of me.
About 10 minutes after his plot reveal, his cell phone rang. He hadn't turned it off. Idiot.
He answered it. In the movie theatre, while the movie was going. Blithering idiot.
It was his mom. He finished the phone conversation, and then he said to me "That was my mom. She says I have to go home and go to bed because I work at 8 tomorrow morning." And then he got up and left . That's right. He left the movie. He left the theatre. He left me sitting there. He left because his mom told him to. And I was relieved. I was grateful to have to call my roommate and ask her to pick me up. I was ecstatic that I didn't have to keep thinking about where to put my hands. I was thrilled to no longer have to come up with a polite "uh-huh" every 7 minutes. I was overjoyed that I didn't have to get back into his car. And most of all, I was giddy that I didn't have to go through the doorstep scene. No awkward attempt at a hug or a handshake.
And there you have it. I have, in fact, been on blind dates since this one, but they were extremely screened and in large groups and the friends who did the setting up had to be present and accountable for their choices. And I invite each of you to consider that next time the thought crosses your mind. Whether it is me or any of you other Single friends, it is only fair that we exact the same emotional punishment from you that you have inflicted upon us. I'm not bitter. I just derive the logic I use to function from past experience.
My worst date ever was before I joined the LDS church. However, it was with an LDS boy, who, for purposes of anonymity, I'll call "Nick." It was the Jack of Hearts dance, which was a semi-formal girl's preference dance in February. I showed up at Nick's house to pick him up. He had a fresh haircut. It looked great, until I saw him from the side. He had playboy bunny shaved into the side of his head.
I felt humiliated. I was so embarrassed to be seen with him that night. I couldn't understand how my LDS boyfriend could do something like that (or how his parents could have condoned it). I suffered through dinner at Olive Garden with my friends, but when we got to the dance and stood up for pictures, he started to sense how upset I was - especially when I made him stand with the bunny facing away from the camera. Eventually, we got to arguing, and we broke up. My best friend and I traded dates for the rest of the night. Nick and I were no more, and Nick only spoke hurtful words to me for the next two years, with few exceptions.
I saw Nick again after I joined the church 5 years later. He had grown up a lot, and we became friends for the short time he was in town. He reintroduced me to his brother, who I dated just long enough to realize he wasn't the kind of guy who could take me to the temple (you know the type - "I'm trying to get active," "I'm trying to quit smoking," etc.). He was devastated at the break-up, and called me regularly for the next month to try to convince me that I should give him another chance. I made the decision after that to only date guys who were already worthy to go to the temple, and I met Aaron (my husband) a month later. What's really funny is that we discovered later that Aaron had been in their ward when they were 12 & 13. They didn't get along very well. I've never seen either brother since, but I've wondered if they ever heard about our marriage and made the connection.
As a college sophomore, I was having the time of my life. Lots of good friends, good times, and plenty of guys to go out with. I had some really great dates during that phase. One not-so-good one stands out, Mr. Lose 20 Pounds.
Mr. L20P was on my dad's track team and I'd had a crush on him for ages. A big girl's choice dance was coming up and I decided to ask him. I devised a really cute way to do it, and he thought it was great. Looking back, I wonder if he was playing along for fear of losing his spot on the team. Anyway, he answered me in a cute way, and we made plans to double with one of my best friends. I borrowed a fabulous hunter green dress from a friend (don't laugh, this was the 90s when hunter green was hot!) and got my nails and hair specially done. In a word, I looked hot.
The day of the dance, we went to Yellowstone Park. It was freezing cold, so Mr. L20P was cuddly and I was in heaven. We had a great time wandering through the geyser basins and spotting animals. On the drive back, he reached under his seat, pulled out a rose, and handed it to me. *Le Gasp!* Wow. Here was a true gentleman. Not only did he surprise me with the rose, but he also opened car doors (I was driving) and let me go through store doors first. I was pretty sure I was going to fall in love with him.
We got back home and dropped the guys off to get ready, with the promise that we'd be back in an hour to pick them up. During the ensuing hour, I'm pretty sure that aliens abducted my date. When I showed up to get him, he gave me the once over and said, "I suppose you'll do." WHAT?! I'll 'do'? I went all out for this guy and I'll DO?! He made a point of complimenting my friend on her look. Nice.
When we got to the dance, he walked several feet in front of me like he was suddenly embarrassed. I was feeling rather disgruntled and wishing that I was anywhere but there. That's when he dropped the bomb. He turned, grabbed my hand, and led me onto the floor for a slow dance. He leaned in all romantically, and I thought maybe I'd been mistaken about the earlier conversation. Nope. He smiled at me and said, "You know, you'd look really amazing in a swimsuit if you lost 20 pounds or so." Um, WHAT?! Seriously? You really felt the need to comment on my weight?! I was about a size 8 then, and at 5'9", that's pretty thin. And what business of his was my swimsuit-clad body?! I shoved him off of me and told him to find his own way home, then left.
So my freshman year at BYU, I was living in the dorms (Heritage) and I had a very sweet visiting teacher who I really liked, even though I barely knew her. One day we were talking about boys and for some reason that I can't remember I mentioned that I liked boys who have pink cheeks. Oh, she has a friend named Arnold* who has pink cheeks and I should totally go on a date with him! So I, in my BYU freshman dating crazed innocence, agreed. (*Name has been changed!) Like pink cheeks should EVER be a deal-breaker, but whatever.
Date night: Arnold comes to pick me up and he is NOTHING like what I expected. A little on the chubby side and very professional, but I was in a bad mood to begin with and thought maybe he could be really cool so I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. (Lesson two: if you are grouchy you should probably re-schedule your date night. Trust me, its for the best. Lesson one was that you should never let anybody who doesn't really know you set you up. Seems obvious, but for some reason I learned that the hard way.) We went back to his apartment where my visiting teacher was with her date. We made homemade pizza and played video games, but I wasn't having fun at all. Even the other couple was boring, and I quickly learned that Arnold's personality did not at all make up for the lack of attraction I had for him. Also I beat him in his own video game AND set a new record and for some reason I think he was mad about it.
We then played a board game, during which he tried to tickle me??? Soooooo not down for being touchy at this point. I quickly shoved his hands off and said that no, I wasn't ticklish. We went to the creamery for ice cream, which was fine and I was getting happier because I thought the date was coming to an end. Until somebody announced it was time to go back for a movie. Really?? Dinner, games, ice cream AND a movie? (Lesson three is for all dates everywhere: if your date is not going well, it is completely acceptable to cut it short.) I was so miserable!!! So miserable in fact that I pretended to fall asleep during the movie (which was Finding Nemo). Then when he took me home I apologized for being so "tired" during our date. I think we hugged awkwardly but it was completely obvious that we were NEVER going out again. I told my roommates all about how horrible and LOOOONG this boring disaster of a date was, and that he wasn't even cute to make up for it.
A few days later I felt kinda guilty that I had been so negative about everything, and I asked my visiting teacher if he had fun on our date. "Yeah!" she said, nodding, but it was the most blatant lie I'd ever seen. I think it was sometime later in the school year I happened to see him while eating with my roommate in the cougareat, and I pointed him out. She literally started laughing and said "HIM??? ohhh, poor Jordan..." and embarrassment ensued.
And you know what, he didn't even have pink cheeks!!
It all started one summer when I lived in the German House at BYU. We were really good friends with the guys in the Chinese house. For our final Sunday dinner, we invited them over. I was in charge of Sunday meals, and this one was going to be grand. We went Thanksgiving style. I told the guy who was helping me from the Chinese house that he had one responsibility: mashed potatoes, enough for 24 people. His response at that moment was to tell me that I had the most beautiful hair he'd ever seen. Okay, weirdo. An hour before the grand event, he brought me 12 frozen, peeled potatoes. Not enough for 24 people. Not mashed. Not happy. Then he said "But I have good news for you! I'm taking you out for icecream this week, how about Friday?" I dropped to the couch, preoccupied by the frozen potatoes. "Fine, sure, whatever."
I moved that week, back into my English speaking apartment. He called me as I was hefting a box up the stairs and asked me what I wanted to do. I heard the word "pool" to which I replied absolutely not. He asked me why not, and I informed him that swimming was not an appropriate first date. He laughed and said that he meant pool, as in, the game with the cues and the balls. "Fine, sure, whatever," was my reply.
He picked me up for the date, and my red headed roommate answered the door. He started hitting on her. Apparently he has a thing for redheads. It wasn't just subtle hitting on her either- she finally stopped him and said "Um...aren't you here to pick up my roommate?"
I'm not gonna lie, I looked pretty dang hot that night. Which was confirmed as he followed me down the stairs of the apartment and said "I don't know why you wouldn't want to go swimming. I would love to see you in a swimsuit. You have a great body." Um, creepy much? Yeah, I think so.
We went to a pool hall and I was so tense because of the previous comment that I couldn't actually hit the ball. My hand eye coordination wasn't that great anyway, and it got considerably worse. So what did he do? Yeah, he decided to teach me how to play pool. By totally running his hand up my back and insisting that he was keeping me steady. At this point, I wanted the date to end. Very badly wanted the date to end. I even excused myself to the bathroom and tried to induce vomiting. But I just wasn't that lucky.
The next stop was Coldstone. As we waited in line, he turns to me and asks "Would it be to much to ask for us to just order one sundae and one spoon and take turns feeding it to each other?" "Yup," I replied, "I've got a thing with germs." At this point, the gag reflex kicked in (curse- 20 minutes too late!) and I could barely eat any icecream.
We got back in the car and continued awkward conversation. He asked me if I was related to the Parley Pratt, and I said yes. He got really excited and said "If I married you, I'd be a general authority for sure!" I didn't have the heart to tell him that since Parley Pratt, no one from his line has been a general authority. And in our church, its not so much based on lineage. In any case, he then started asking me about chocolate. He asked me if I liked it. I said that yes, I do enjoy chocolate quite a bit. He then informed me that he had two qualifications for the girl he was going to marry. She had to have red hair, and she had to love chocolate. There was a very long awkward silence at that point. I mean, how exactly do you respond to that?!?!
We pulled into the apartment parking lot. He turns off the car and I start to get out. He locks the door and informs me that he was going to come around and open the door for me. But he doesn't move. Instead he looks at me and says "So, how do you feel about kissing on the first date?" My reply: "I don't." "Well, why not?" "I had a bad experience." Really, the bad experience was one that I was having at that very moment. "So, can we go out again tomorrow then?" Um...no. Fortunately, I could give him the excuse of colorguard camp starting the next day, and I would be incredibly busy with that for the next um...4 years.
The story doesn't end there. Some how, he figured out my class schedule, and for the first week, was waiting outside of my New Testament class for me every day. This did not end until one day, I grabbed the hand of my guy friend I was walking with. Mission accomplished, although I did have a lot of explaining to do to my guy friend. 3 months later, a mutual friend of mine and creepy date guy informed me that he was still talking about the "beautiful red head with the voluptuous hips" that had blown him off. I still shiver just thinking about it.
My First High School Dance: Every girl looks forward to the year she turns that magical age of 16 where she earns the Double D's. No, not in her bra size. Dating and Driving. I looked forward to my first high school dance since I was in jr. high. The thought of dressing up, getting a fancy hair do and going out to the ball made me giddy. Turns out, real life is nothing close to the fairy tale I had pictured. When my date came to pick me up, things started out just peachy. We took pictures and did the corsage thing. I went to get my jacket on and he just stood there. No big deal really, but I was used to boys acting like real gentlemen. The whole chivalry thing I had come to expect. My mom said she knew after I left that it wasn't going to be a great date, just from that one little instance.
We get to the restaurant where we met up with a bunch of his senior friends. None of which I knew. I knew "of" this group of kids though. The football players who would usually slough class and go a little further with girls than just kissing. Throughout dinner the guys were all making sexist jokes to each other, while the girls chatted together. I was shy and nervous, so I just ate my dinner and tried not to show how uncomfortable I was. We got to the dance and things started to go better. We took our pictures and had some cookies and started dancing. Things were much better now that we weren't forced to make conversation with the other dirty minded boys.
I started having fun and we were laughing. My genius of a date took that as a sign to proceed with his plan (probably something the older boys had suggested I'm guessing) and as we were dancing he moved his hands down below my waist. OK, ummm, no thank you!! Back then, every little thing that went wrong seemed like the end of the world. So I panicked, but just moved his hands back to where they belonged. Well, he did it again and by this point his friends were watching and egging him on. I had a typical girl moment and ran to the bathroom crying to my girlfriends. After 20 minutes I gathered my bearings with the comfort that my friends were going to keep an eye out for me and went back to dance with the kid. But by then he said we were all going to someone's house to watch a movie. Yeah right! Call me stuck up, but I was not going to be forced to sit in some strange dark house with an inappropriate movie on while everyone made out. So I asked him to take me home. All the guys of course were calling me a molly mormon, goody goody. So what if I was? I went to ask my other friends if they could drive me home. It made my date feel guilty so he agreed to take me home.
I was watching the minutes tick by as we rode home in silence. When we got there I had my keys in my hand and my hand on the door handle ready to jump out as soon as he stopped, thinking there was no way he was going to walk me to the door. Wrong! NOW he decides to be a gentleman. Great. Awkward porch moment. So, I said thank you for taking me and politely gave him a quick hug. Whoops, what was I thinking? Of course Mr. Ego is going to take that as a sign that I'm into him, so he pulls me in for a kiss. I don't think so buddy! He had a hold of me and I kind of pushed back reflexively since it took me by surprise. As I did that, he conveniently happened to be standing on the edge of the step, and fell backwards onto the ground. Ha ha!! I'm not really a bully, even if I wanted to plan it, it couldn't have happened any better. I really didn't take the time to celebrate, apologize or even help him up. I just went in an shut the door to the worst date ever!
To make matters even better, the next week my mom got a phone call from his mom saying how bratty I was and that I was ruining her angelic sons reputation. She wanted to have a meeting where I could apologize to him and set his reputation right. Are you kidding me? I don't really remember how my mom handled the situation, but there was no meeting, and obviously I never got those "lovely" dance pictures to document the event in my scrapbook - or even better- to burn!
I didn’t live close to any guy who was LDS and not interested in dating my sister. That made dating a little more difficult. Once, I mentioned at a youth dance to this guy (we’ll call him Jim) that I wanted to go to a school dance with an LDS guy. Jim, being the attentive male that he was, picked up on that. Three days later, back at home, the phone rings. My dad answered. The guy asked for me. The connection was a bit fuzzy, and my dad said “Who? Melissa?”. Jim hesitated, worried that he had my name wrong, and said, “Um, yeah”. So, my dad got Melissa, my little sister who would have been about 9 at the time. Jim proceeded to ask Melissa to my homecoming. She giggled, and handed me the phone. Poor Jim. That actually has little relevance to the story, only that it sets the stage for a disaster yet to come.
We made all the arrangements for Jim to come down for Homecoming. He would come in the morning, spend the day, go to the dance with me, and then sleep over and drive home the next morning. It was a long drive for him, so this seemed like the best plan. But, it did leave a large chunk of time for this young man to spend with my family. The first thing my family always does when meeting a new person is ask them about their musical background. My dad would then invite the person to play any instrument they played. If they didn’t play any, he invited them to listen while we did. We owned, and had a member of the family who played, nearly every standard instrument. It just so happened that Jim played a more unusual one. He played the accordion. Oh, but we are in luck, my family owns an accordion. My mom sent me back to drag it out of the guest bedroom closet, and he followed me. This led to an awkward moment of him and I being alone in the guest bedroom, as I pulled it out of the case. Rather than taking it back to the living room, he takes it from me, and begins to play it.
Okay, get the whole picture here. Me, stuck in a bedroom with guy I barely know playing the accordion. He is between me and the door. My sisters and parents all out in the living room, where they can hear the accordion.
And, what does he play? He plays “I can’t help falling in Love with you”. I wish it were just one verse. In fact, I wish he had only just done the song. He kept losing his place, and starting over, and getting lost. I think I may have heard the whole thing three or four times.
Wait, did I mention, he was singing it, too? Oh, I forgot that. Yeah, I’d like to forget it, too.
At some point in maybe the 8th or 9th verse, I hear this loud noise come from the kitchen. Quick, a chance for my escape. I say I need to find out what happened, and ran out of the room.
I did find out what happened. I found out that my sister had been sitting on the kitchen counter, laughing with my mom about it, and got to laughing so hard, she fell off.
To this day, my sisters like to sing the song around me. This, of course, gave my husband the opportunity to learn the whole story. This means, that song doesn’t ever go away. All I need to do is tease my guy about being a bit more romantic, and he breaks into it.
I do feel bad for poor Jim. I hope he was able to refine both his accordion playing skills, and his romance skills, before too late into his life.
My worst date was also one of my first dates- I think I was barely 16.
It started off on a great foot when the boy called me up on Thursday night and said, "Look, my friends are planning a group date tomorrow and I can't get anyone to go with me. I've called like 3 other girls and they all can't. So, you know, what do you think?"
Being 16, and somewhat stupid, I said, "Sure, I'll go." I hung up the phone and try to ignore the nagging feeling of rage in my soul, and convince myself that maybe that burning was just excitement.
I got all ready for the date the next night. Did my hair, agonized over wardrobe choice, and then the doorbell rang. I answered it, and we walked to the car in my driveway. Instinctively I headed toward the passenger side front door, but I looked in and saw a different guy in the driver seat. No problem, I thought. He was probably going to have his date sit in the front with him so I would sit in the backseat with my date. That's when my date said, "Hey, hey, sit in the back okay? I'm sitting in the front."
So I climbed into the backseat. And the two boys sat in the front. Eventually we picked up the other boy's equally confused date, and the two of us girls sat in the back in silence while the boys talked only to themselves.
Once we got to the restaurant the boys met up with a bunch more of their guy friends while all the girls (who didn't know each other) sat in awkwardness. My date turned to me at one point and said, "Hey, I only have 15 bucks so don't get anything expensive okay? And no sodas. Just water." That was probably the only direct sentence he said to me all night. Classy.
Once dinner was over the boys took us on the next part of the date, which ended up being ice-blocking at a park. You know, you sit on a big block of ice and slide down the hill. Except the boys had forgotten towels to sit on top of the ice, so we had to sit our bottoms directly on the giant block of ice which left everyone looking like they'd wet their pants. Also, several of the girls, myself included, were wearing skirts. And its very difficult to straddle a block of ice in a skirt. Trust me. (So much for the carefully selected wardrobe choice.) But I tried to be a good sport and participate. Soon the iceblocks got all muddy and grass covered, which left my skirt with some intense, unpleasant-looking stains.
Then, several of the boys rejoiced to see, across the park, a bunch of their OTHER friends from their highschool (which I did not attend.). They met up with their friends, which included a girl who my date was apparently interested in, because he ditched me.
He left me sitting on a stupid block of ice in a skirt- freezing, muddy, and still hungry from my not-too-expensive dinner.
A few other girls from the original date found themselves ditched too. Eventually one of the boys(not my date) felt guilty and offered to give us a ride home. So I squished into a backseat of his crappy van with about 4 other girls and waited for the whole thing to be over.Eventually, we got to my house and I got out of the car. The charming young man yelled, "See ya! Oh and hey, your butt's all wet! I hope that didn't get on the seat of my car!"
After that experience, it's a miracle that I ever went on a date again. Man, just telling this story makes me realize how much I love my husband...! :)
Honorable mention horrible date: the one where my date took me to a fast food restaurant and then made fun of a Down's Syndrome child who was eating with his parents there. That's a winner.
Thanks to Jessica and Jordan for their great relationship advice. You are some smart ladies. I have been thinking about some of the things you said over the past few days. I love it when I learn something awesome just from the blog. I have been thinking about what you girls said about how important expectations are in a relationship, and how all problems and frustrations come from unmet expectations. So wise!
Which leads me to this: let's talk about the times when a boy hilariously did not even come close to our expectations.
Let's open the Bad Date Hall of Fame! This is a special, 2 week event. I know you have probably told your worst date story about a million times, but we all want to hear them so bust them out! (email to hotchocolateshop@gmail.com )
As a little extra incentive, the poor girl who is generally agreed upon to have had the worst date (I will set up a poll the week after we have all told our stories) will receive a $10 e-gift card to Bath and Body Works! You can use it online to buy some good smelling soap to get the stink of failure off of you, or to buy a mani/pedi kit to soothe your wounded soul.
I'll start, because I could write a thesis on the subject.
I swear I don't usually write in cause I can never think of a good answer to these questions! But here are a couple of my thoughts.
1. I wouldn't say this is the WORST advice ever, but it's given entirely too often. "Always be willing to compromise." Ok, for me, compromise has never been the problem. There are many, many things in life you just CAN'T compromise on. You either are or you aren't; you do or you don't. You ARE spending money on dinner out, or you AREN'T. You DO go on a road trip, or you DON'T. You ARE buying a house, or you AREN'T. You see what I'm saying? I know there are better examples, but the point is I know I have been in many situations where I either had to 'give in,' or not. And I hated it. It's figuring out those problems that is key! And I think the answer is: pick your battles.
The best advice was already said, but I just wanted to agree, and expand. I read in a marriage/relationship book (I LOVE those, particularly by LDS authors) that "all frustration stems from unmet expectations." Sometimes I am mad or frustrated because I expected that my husband would react differently to something I did or said, or etc. If I hadn't expected that thing I wouldn't have been frustrated with the outcome. See? So a lot of times it does mean adjusting your own expectations. Or... being clear about them, so that they ARE met next time.
2. Colossal mistake made by yours truly: Getting un-engaged to my husband! Yep, we were engaged TWICE. The first time didn't work out because I, though I had good intentions, was unwilling to take any steps forward without KNOWING that it was right. Well, the big lesson I learned was that sometimes you just don't know things for certain, and that's called faith. I totally lacked faith in him, in myself to make the decision, and in the Lord. So we wasted a miserable year being apart when we could have been happily married. Thankfully I was given a second chance and we got married anyway. What a blessing! But I sure did learn everything the hard... EXTRA-hard... way. Hope this helps somebody out there who is scared of marriage and commitment. Faith in every footstep!
3. Beyond that I don't really believe in giving relationship advice. It is so completely different for everybody because every individual and every couple deals with their own issues. I've been told it's like a mission. Every RM has loads of advice to give to prospective missionaries but ultimately the greenie has to learn for themselves. Same with marriage. I could talk until I'm blue in the face about things I've learned, but will that really help someone who's never experienced it? I think that's why so many people warn you that "Marriage is hard," but I don't remember them ever expanding on that! There is no preparation for it. You just don't know until you jump in yourself. What an adventure, right?!
"I just finished a psych class, and was fascinated by the information I found. Did you know that the biggest indication that a marriage will end in divorce is if one (or both) spouse is neurotic? Yeah, Jon and Kate were doomed from the beginning. So, don’t be neurotic, okay?
The best relationship advice I got came through my sister from our Bishop’s wife. Her advice was to just tell the guy what you want! She said that you should assume your guy loves you, and wants to treat you well, but they aren’t good at hints, looks, or subliminal messages. Just say it! You have an idea of what you want for Christmas, then tell him! You need him to take the baby for the night, so you can sleep, it’s okay to say that! Don’t pout and say, “If he loved me, he would just KNOW he should stay up all night with the baby.” They are guys; they generally don’t just know these things.
The worst advice I have heard was that spouses should have a “say all” time. They should set apart some time that they are each free to say whatever they want to the other person with no consequences. Just let it all out. Don’t hold back. No. This is wrong. There are always consequences to what you say (good or bad). That couple split a few years later.
In my personal experience, I have found that you get angry with someone when that person does not meet an expectation you had for them. Think about the last time you were upset with someone. What did they do or say (or not do or say) that upset you? What was it that you were expecting that was different? This goes back to my good advice. In a relationship, you should state your expectations clearly. You should also have reasonable expectations of the other person. Did you hear about the lady who threw water at the McD’s employee this week? Her expectations were not reasonable, and she got mad. Next time you are upset, with anyone from your spouse to a business, ask yourself what expectation was not met. Was the expectation clearly stated? Was it a reasonable one? Sometimes, I find that the fault lies with me for not stating the expectation, or having an unreasonable one. If that I the case, I need to calmly explain where I went wrong, and apologize, and then discuss the expectation for future. If it was a clear and reasonable expectation, I need to calmly say why it hurt me that it wasn’t met. (As a side note for any males who may read this, consider all expectations of a pregnant women reasonable. However, girls, be fair and try to make them clearly stated. For example: “Honey, I want dairy queen soft serve ice cream, even though it’s -19, and the closest DQ that is open is 30 miles away.” “Yes, dear.”)
No, I’m not pregnant. I’m just putting this out there for those who are, and may be wanting DQ ice cream right now."
The worst advice: (for me) "Never go to bed angry."
That's what people say. And maybe it works for some people. But I have noticed when I am tired my ability to be sane is really diminished. And by that I mean, I'm compltely insane. And the more tired I get, the more I lose touch with reality. Things feel like the end of the world, emotions are harder to control, and I find myself going in circles. So for me, sometimes it is best to go to sleep instead of continuing to try and fix the problem. I probably wouldn't recommend going to bed super enraged, but a little miffed or even sad is okay for me because I wake up the next day with a new, sane approach. I am able to realize which things are a big deal and which aren't. So sometimes I think it is best to say, "Hey, let's talk about this tomorrow before work when I'm not as tired." No harm done, and probably a lot of harm avoided.
Some good advice: "Accept repair attempts."
I read this in John Gottman's book "Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work" which is an awesome book. I highly recommend it. Dr. Gottman is one of the country's foremost relationship experts. He can predict, with 91% accuracy, whether a couple will stay married or get divorced simply off observing a 5 minute conversation! Crazy stuff. And he has pinpointed the warning signs in a relationship.
One of the things that has stuck with me was what he said about "repair attempts". A repair attempt is this: let's say you are having an argument with your husband and you are telling him something in a very serious tone and your husband makes a lame joke. How you react to this is going to be a big indication of the state of your relationship. You can choose to be offended that he's not taking things seriously and yell at him that it's no time to make jokes. Or you can see his joke as his (somewhat misguided, feeble) attempt at lightening the mood. He is trying to extend an olive branch, in his own way. The best thing you can do in a situation like this, is laugh at the joke. Or at least smile at him. He is looking for a break in the tension. He is looking for your reassurance. If you can manage to smile in response to his repair attempt, the message you send is that you love him and the problem is not the end of the world. Then, you can say, "But you understand what I'm saying, right?" to get back to the issue. But that moment of release can do huge amounts of good for your relationship.
Repair attempts come in all forms: Jokes, compliments, hugs, apologies. The main thing is, even if you are caught up in an argument, do you love your partner enough to realize that when he tries to give you a hug or tell you you're pretty, he is not just trying to weasle his way out of trouble. Never refuse him because you are angry. He is just trying to take a quick break, to show you that he cares. In his sometimes awkward manly way. Also, you can make repair attempts yourself. For example:
"I’m sorry." "Go on." "I love you." "I understand how you feel." "O.K. Maybe you’re right. Can we compromise?" Humor Affection Compliments
These things can really ease the tension during an argument. So try them out, and if your husband tries them, don't shoot him down. Accept it for what it is, an attempt to make things better.
So much easier said than done, huh?
(PS repair attempts are applicable in all relationships, not just marriages. I especially thought of family relationships)
I wonder if you guys are making any resolutions? How to improve your house, your body, your habits or your testimony. Let's talk about one thing we all have room for improvement in...relationships!!
No matter how happy you and your husband seem, or no matter how many millions of friends you have, you probably still have to constantly work at the relationships in your life. Right? It's not just me, right? So let's share some tips.
1. What is the best (and/or WORST) relationship ADVICE you ever got?
2. Did you ever make a collosal mistake in a relationship? Or have you observed a habit that is sure to kill a relationship?
3. What is your best relationship tip from your own experiences?
(Note: I love marriage advice, but if you aren't married please don't shy away from this topic. You can still share your tips or blunders relating to any relationship in your life- dating, friends, family, dogs, etc)
Hot Chocolate Shop is our version of a coffee shop. A place for chic LDS girls to blog together, laugh together, and indulge in a little chocolate-flavored friendship.
Come on, take a sip.
Join in the conversation. Post, comment or send in your responses to
Every Monday I post a discussion topic. Girls email their responses to the topic to hotchocolateshop@gmail.com, and then I post them up and we all enjoy it and discuss it. Topics range from boys to life lessons to recipes...and to infinity. We're girls, we never run out of things to say.
There's nothing better than a good friend, except a good friend with chocolate. - Linda Grayson, The Pickwick Papers
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