I remarked to my boyfriend last week that we’d been going out for 2 1/2 years now.
We met at a friend’s birthday party. I was coming to the end of a couple of months of working abroad. Time at home was so precious that I nearly didn’t go. He was in the middle of big project and working all day every day and so he nearly didn’t go.
I had sat at home earlier in the evening, collapsed on the sofa with a glass of wine in hand, talking myself out of going. I still don’t really know where I found the enthusiasm for the party. He was dragged along by his flatmate, the birthday girl’s boyfriend with the promise of free beer.
At the end of the evening, he gave me his business card. I sent a message to my best friend lamenting the fact that I had now reached the point in life where men gave me their business cards rather than just their phone number.
A week later, we had a mojito-fuelled dinner which neither of us can really remember much about. I’d already been warned by the birthday girl that the boys operated a strict schedule when it came to courting and that I wouldn’t hear anything more for at least three days. Sure enough, the day after our date, my phone was suspiciously silent. The doubts started creeping in.
Thankfully, he put me out of my agony fairly swiftly and the next day, we went to see a film. We came out of the cinema at that awkward point on a Sunday evening when it doesn’t really seem appropriate to suggest going for a drink but when you don’t quite feel like going home yet. The solution was found in a giant ice cream sundae. This was different to our previous meetings. We were, most notably, both sober. Neither of us had dressed up. I think I had brushed my hair but that was about all the effort that I had gone to. He sent me a message later that night saying that so much sugar before bed was a bad idea and that he didn’t think he would ever get to sleep. The next week, however, he was happy to do exactly the same.
In the early days of our relationship, we would finish almost every meal together with a bowl of ice cream. We have, thankfully for our waistlines, dropped this habit but we still like to have a proper dessert on a Friday or Saturday night.
Lack of space in my kitchen prohibits an ice cream machine although I do love making ice cream at home. I’d been wanting to try this no-churn vanilla ice cream recipe for a while but never quite managed to find the time. When I saw that Sarah had made a rhubarb version, I knew that it was the perfect use for the last of my rhubarb. I followed the recipe almost as written (and so haven’t replicated it here). The only change that I made was to throw in a cup of white chocolate chips and, as a result, leave out the vanilla pods that the recipe calls for. I love the combination of white chocolate and rhubarb; the sweet creaminess works so well with the tart fruit. This ice cream really could not be any easier. Or any more delicious.
Kavey, the superstar blogger behind Kavey Eats, launched a monthly ice cream-related blog challenge. This month’s theme is chocolate and those white chocolate chips are just begging for inclusion. At the end of the month, Kavey posts a delicious round up of each month’s entries.
Hopefully this month, she’ll also be able to provide us with some warmer weather…