First Christmas

A Winter’s Tale… First Christmas

He wanted every thing just right.

A perfect meal, a perfect night.

He wanted her smile.

He made...

Fresh briny oysters; Belons, topped with bright red pearls of Salmon Roe, splashed with first kiss champagne.

Around the house, sounds of Marsalis and Monk bopped and slid across the floor, as smells of chopped rosemary, lemons and garlic mingled with the fresh cut fir tree with a single present underneath. A small box wrapped in silver and gold with a sprig of mistletoe tucked under a red satin bow.

He danced around the room, putting the last touches on each plate; an elf wrapping each final gift.

The King Salmon, roasted in a crisp, flaky dough, crowned with chunks of Dungeness Crab, fresh herbs and sherry butter. Spears of steamed baby asparagus wrapped in a bow of chives, and roasted baby potatoes, red – yellow – purple - tossed in rosemary olive oil.

He lit the table’s candles, opened a bottle of wine from a late summers’ vineyard walk, pouring a dark ruby red pinot, bouncing the light around room.

For later, he dished a white chocolate, grand mariner mousse into cognac glasses.

Then, he waited…

  paced.

Everything was perfect…

  he hoped.

Ding.
  Dong.

He opened the door, champagne bubbles in hand, and said…

Merry Christmas.

She… wide eyed… smiled… took the glass

And walked through the door.