For Christmas this year, Mr. B gifted me with a half-gallon of Katz Gravenstein Apple Cider Vinegar. It was as much of a gift for himself as it was for me- a testament to our collective food geekiness if I’ve ever seen one. Gravenstein apples are recognized as a heritage food by the Slow Food movement, and Katz lovingly takes these special apples and first turns them into a hard cider before aging the liquid in oak barrels to create a wonderful nuanced apple cider vinegar. Mr. B loves the magical ability of apple cider vinegar to transform a dish from ho hum to to fantastic and often suggests a splash of it when helping me tweak a recipe simmering on the stove.

It is that time of year again. Time to unearth summer produce from the depths of my freezer and skip around the kitchen pretending that the snow outside is a figment of my imagination. (Okay, so the skipping is also a figment of my imagination this year. Pregnant ladies just don’t skip very well!) Peaches, raspberries, pies- these are what summer pipe dreams are made of.

Sometimes Valentine’s Day calls for a little extra sweetness at the end of the evening. Nothing caps off a special meal quite like a dessert wine or aperitif. It can be the closing note to a symphony of flavors that pushes you over the top into a state of total food and wine bliss. Best savored slowly in the company of someone you love, dessert wines beg for languid conversation and dim lighting.

The worst Valentine’s Day gift I ever received was a sticky box of candy canes leftover from Christmas. I was 13 and smack in the middle of those few years of special hell otherwise known as middle school. My small school had the brilliant idea of assigning a sort of ‘secret santa’ project for Valentine’s Day. Everyone was randomly assigned the name of a classmate of the opposite sex and had to bring an anonymous gift on February 14th for that person. Boy-crazy and idealistic as always, I hoped that I might discover a box of chocolates, a stuffed bear, or something else romantic in my locker. Finding a box of candy canes confirmed my worst fears- no one liked me, everyone hated me, and I was going to die a lonely death by 14. (Yes, I was a bit of a drama queen!)

Mr. B has a thing for cipollini onions. They are the holy grail of sweet onion flavor- causing him to wax poetic and look rather dreamy eyed whenever they appear. Hard to find locally, their rarity only enhances the allure for both of us. Whenever we get the opportunity to purchase a few they go into the cart, no questions asked.

The other day Mr. B and I were hanging out in the kitchen and he casually asked, “Have I ever made my signature dip for you?” I stopped what I was doing and looked at him, mystified. “You have a signature dip?” He nodded and said, “Yep, a blue cheese olive dip.” I shook my head in wonder. Five years of marriage and he’s still surprising me! Of course, I couldn’t let the proclamation of a signature dip pass by unnoticed. Upcoming Super Bowl parties provided me with the perfect excuse for asking Mr. B whip to up a batch of his dip.