Rick and I had the opportunity of a romantic dinner, alone and at home, together the other night.
A meatball sub on sourdough ciabatta isn't very romantic. I take complete blame for the lack of romance present at our dinner.
But, in my defense, I must say I felt very loving towards the beef and pork as I mixed them together with the other ingredients. I whispered endearments to them about how they were going to be the most perfect meatballs and taste so delicious once they were cooked and rolled in my sauce and topped with melted provolone. I explained how they would be nestled between the halves of the ciabatta Chuck and I had made together from the heart. Didn't they know that bread was made solely with them in mind? And I told them how cherished they would feel when they reached their final destination--our stomachs!--after such sweet longing all week.
All this, I told them. The meatballs understood their destiny. I felt the love present while I ate them. I was filled with happiness and fulfillment.....and love. What about Rick?
You don't really think Rick was thinking all that mush do you? Do you??!! Actually, neither was I. Here's what we were thinking as we cracked our teeth as far was they would go to stuff the ciabatta in: