We knew we would spend the entire drive up I-5, heading home, reminiscing about every bite. After a bit, we’d wriggle over to San Francisco, eat at Zuni Café, meet up with food blogger friends, and end our trip in Berkeley with the meal at Chez Panisse I have always imagined. Into California, where we would tour the wine country, end up in Napa Valley, and eat at the French Laundry. Driving down the coast, the immensity to our right, music flying out the window. A jaunt over to the ocean, where we could fall asleep with the roar of the waves, and take picnics on the sand and lay in the sunlight for hours.
Seattle to Portland, one day to stuff as many meals as we could stretch into us. Then, it arrived, the idea that latched onto us for months. But where? We decided to follow the trail of great food. The thought of it made us both giggle, immediately.
#HONEYMOON HUNTDOWN AMONG US WINDOWS#
Feet up on the dashboard, windows open, music going loud, and the wind in our hair as we sing. We bandied about ideas, but then we both thought of it: road trip. Of course, we would be inspired in Ireland, but the food? Well, food - it seemed to me on my visit - is not the primary sensory pleasure of the place. But Ireland without a Guinness? Oh.īesides, we really want to go somewhere where we will eat well and be inspired. I went for a week, with Sharon, bouncing along the green fields in a little green rental car. James is of Welsh derivation, apparently, but I’ve a good chunk of the Irish in me too. He’s an Ahern - as one of the readers of this blog put it recently, “He has a bit of the Paddy in him.” Oh yes. The thought of ten days together, doing nothing but eating and walking and laughing and other honeymoon activities? Oh, yeah. And I’m a freelance writer now, without a regular paycheck.
#HONEYMOON HUNTDOWN AMONG US PROFESSIONAL#
He’s a chef - they may work harder than any professional I know. There are always stories to write, menus to plan, food to buy, emails to answer, and phone calls to return. Two days off together, with no work to do, is a rare vacation. Call him a girl, but the Chef still wants a honeymoon with me. Well, call me a girl, but I still want a honeymoon with him. Why would we need an elaborate honeymoon? Neither one of us stands on ceremony or walks through life with that many expectations. It won’t cost much - we found the navy-blue blazer he wants to wear on that day at a rummage sale, for five dollars. We are deliberately planning a low-key, goofy wedding, surrounded by people we love and enormously good food. We eat well, we have our health, and we regard every day as a laughing adventure. Now, not only have I met him, and have been living with him for eight months, but also he exceeds my dreams. After nearly four decades of being on this earth, I had nearly given up hope of meeting that man of my dreams. The sound of it alone makes me feel a little glowy, like the pale-yellow sunset out the window as I write. We thought we knew where we were going on our honeymoon. Redirection provided by Blogger to WordPress Migration Serviceīackground: #692 url() top center repeat-y īackground: #fff url() top right repeat-y īackground: #8b2 url() bottom left repeat-x īackground: transparent url() top left no-repeat Has been moved to new address oh, the honeymoon
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