Well, RPW, today was a good day. And yesterday, and the day before that. I've had the last three nights off from my night job, so I decided to up my girl game with a recently acquired love interest.

Lately, I've been trying to exude more feminine energy. What better way to focus this effort than with cooking? So, here's a field report of my attempts:

  • Sunday: The weather has been shockingly cool and mild where I am (the South), so much so that Mother Nature is teasing me into thinking it's already autumn. Love Interest (let's call him "N") comments on how fall weather always makes him crave soup. No need to tell me twice... While he's out, I manage to whip up a roasted tomato and basil bisque--oven roasted heirloom tomatoes, sauteed scallions and garlic, a touch of red pepper, and heavy whipping cream. It's simple and near idiot-proof. He loved it so much that he devoured the leftovers that same night during the Breaking Bad episode.

  • Monday: N bemoans his lack of beverage options. We've both cut soda from our diets, and he worries about the sugar content of store-bought fruit juice. "I want something refreshing, sweet--but not too sweet, and tart," he tells me. Well, well. I have just the thing. Rosemary peach lemonade! Fresh squeezed lemons, southern peaches, fresh rosemary... It's simply amazing. He was speechless! He has already requested another batch.

Today: Finally, the pinnacle of my three-day girl game spree. N had an especially long, grinding day at work. About half way through his work day, just as I was leaving my office job, I receive a text from N: "Bad day so far. You're cooking dinner. Front door unlocked"

Challenge accepted. In an exchange of texts, N discloses that he wants beef stroganoff with egg noodles and steamed green beans. Fine. I head for the grocery store, stocking up on all the essentials. I also decided to pick up a bottle of his favorite bourbon while I was out. Treat others as you would like to be treated, right? As I'm leaving the liquor store, my phone buzzes: "Oh and biscuits. Make me biscuits." In retrospect, I'm not sure if this was a bonus challenge or just the random desires of a boy who honestly just wanted some biscuits... But whatever. Beef stroganoff and buttermilk biscuits; game on.

Back to the store I went. Little did he know, I have a kick ass buttermilk biscuit recipe along with one for homemade honey butter. After hitting up three grocery stores, I finally made my way to his apartment. As I started on the beef stroganoff, my phone buzzes again: "I get off work at 8. I'll be home at 8:15. I want dinner by 8:30." Oh, deadlines.

As the beef stroganoff began to simmer, I started on my biscuits. His kitchen is ill-equipped for baking: no rolling pin, no pastry cutter, mismatched and lacking measuring cups. Dear lord... But I made due, using assorted glasses as both rolling pin and cutting die. Biscuits were in the oven. One challenge down. Beef stroganoff came along nicely, and I dropped the egg noodles with 10 minutes to spare.

He walked in just as I was setting the table. He asked if he could help with anything; of course I said no. Like a well conducted symphony, everything was done. I pulled the biscuits from the oven, drained my noodles, and stirred the sour cream into my beef stroganoff. He lumbered into the kitchen; men always seem to know just when dinner is done. "No, no," I say, "Go sit down and relax. I'll bring you your plate." I gave him playful nudge out of the kitchen.

I prepared his plate and set it down in front of him. Now the true test... He literally moaned when he first took a bite. Score. He then tries a biscuit, nearly swallowing one whole. Another moan. I leave the table to go clean up my cooking mess, knowing I've secured my victory.

Once everything is put away, I join him on the couch. His mood had drastically improved since he returned home. Then the compliments begin... "perfect meal," "amazing," etc. He said I cook better than his mother. But he surprises me: "Now I'm not so sure about your becoming a lawyer. I'd really like if you could stay home and cook for me like this all the time."

Bam.