Because of my weird dietary requirements going out for a meal is hard, eating at someone else's house awkward, and being cooked for is near impossible.
In fact in all the years I have been dating, no one has ever cooked for me. By that I mean in a romantic, I care about you, and I want to make you a nice meal, kind of cooking. I think that is partly because I am so damn awkward, and mostly because I have been with all the wrong men.
So imagine my surprise when my boyfriend arrived on my doorstep on Saturday night laden with shopping bags full of ingredients to make a beautiful meal for me.
It was both romantic, fun and amazingly tasty.
He made me the most incredible chicken and mushroom risotto. And, he had remembered my intolerance's and checked all the ingredients, and brought a bottle of wine (the real way to my heart) . It was the sweetest evening.
Obviously all I did was get in the way.
While he was working his magic in the kitchen, I was prancing around being generally excitable and knocking into things. But he was so sweet and let me help, even though I don't even really know how to work the oven.
The food was beautiful. I have to admit it was as tasty as a dish from my favourite restaurant, but more romantic, and even nicer, as it had been made especially for me and we didn't have to leave the house.
I don't think he realised it, but it was probably the nicest evening I have ever had. It was defiantly the most romantic.
Being cooked for made me feel far too special. he had gone to so much trouble, and i gained a few tips on the way.
But in the morning my idea of cooking was throwing some sausages on the health grill - well I never claimed to be Nigella Lawson.
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