Sundays have become slow, luxurious days where I often wear my PJs until mid-afternoon. Or if I've gone out in the morning, they are immediately put back on as soon as I close the door behind me. But by far my favorite thing on Sunday is dinner.

Dating and living with a chef certainly has its advantages. Normally I'm the one who does the cooking when I'm in a relationship. I remember one year, my then boyfriend asked me what I wanted for Valentines Day. I tried to think of something simple, so I replied that I'd like him to make me dinner. In hindsight, that was such a huge mistake on my part. The dinner he made was very good, but I realize that he hates to cook, so asking something that I though was so easy ended up to be torture for him. But he was a great sport about the whole thing, and I was quite impressed.

But back to Sundays. For the last three weekends, Fabrice has whipped up fabulous meals fit for a three star restaurant. Normally he'll take the ingredients I randomly select from the market and spend several hours chopping, searing, and sauteeing in the kitchen. I'm so envious of his remarkable talent to look at a group of ingredients and immediately dream up a dish. It would take me at least a week - I would research, review recipes and scour books before I came up with an idea. But for him, it's like second nature, a creative burst of ideas that turns into a mouthwatering meal. And he does the dishes. When did I get to be so lucky??

His first meal sent me to heaven and back. I had been craving red meat all week, so he made pan seared filet mignon - perfectly cooked of course - on a bed of pasta salad and topped with a melt-in-your-mouth shallot confit. Along side the beef, he served a spring-inspired dish of sauteed peas, wild asparagus, and slivers of garlic.

Last weekend Fabrice treated me to pan sauteed pork medallions on a bed of peppers, peas, and bacon. I had purchased four different colors of peppers at the grocery store, and he turned them into a sort of vegetable hash. Everything was perfectly seasoned, and I eagerly cleaned my plate and asked for seconds.

Tonight as I write this entry, there are lovely smells emanating from the kitchen: melted leeks, slow cooked onions, and a balsamic vinegar reduction. I did catch a glimpse of some foie gras, orange juice, and scallops, so I'm anxious to see and taste each of the three courses he has planned. He likes to keep what we're having a secret until the end, although he's just informed me that this meal is going to be spectacular.

Ah Sundays. I can't wait!

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