But I did make him boeuf bourguignon...

....and he'd loved it.

I remember it being a meal he'd still think of years later. How amazing it was, he'd say. He'd have that dreamy look in his eyes as he recalled it ---- kind of like when he'd remember other certain times we'd shared.

I'd also perfected the chocolate chip cookies he'd liked so much. Tried dozens of recipes, called in a friend for help, even bought a variety of new baking sheets just to make sure I'd gotten them just the way he liked them. He thought they were so good that he'd linger in the kitchen til they were ready and snatch them off the baking rack before they were cool. He'd savor them in finger-licking style and tell me I made the best chocolate chip cookies ever. And then, of course, every single time he'd devour the whole plate of cookies and would be forced to admit he'd eaten too many and his tummy hurt. When I'd chide him for eating so many, he'd say they were just soooo good.

But.......even the best cookies didn't keep him around. I thought the way to a man's heart was through his stomach.

Guess somehow I just didn't follow the recipe as I closely as I should've...

(but the apple pie is still a winner. with or without cinnamon.)