I’m making my way back to my honey in the holler, but first a stop by my boy and his Buffy at the beach. I did have to backtrack over an hour to get back to the beach, but it was certainly worth the effort. I not only got to see my boy and his Buffy, I got to see all of “my boys.” I like to call Michelle’s husband Sam and Melanie’s husband James my sons. And I tell the three Yardy boys that I always wanted five sons, so I’m adopting them and Melanie’s two babies as “my boys.”
James, who has been cooking professionally since he was fourteen, has been offering to cook for me for well over a year. With his work schedule, Melanie’s school schedule, and them having two boys under the age of two, it hasn’t been easy to coordinate the effort. Sam and Michelle picked the three older boys up to go to Cole’s baseball game. Scott, Buffy, and I were sitting by the poolside discussing the option of taking advantage of the unheard of event of the three of us being alone for the evening by going to a restaurant for a meal.
Just then Melanie called to see where I was. She and her family wanted to drop by to see us. I jumped at the chance to offer James up as the evening’s chef du jour. It must have been all that new "woman power" I picked up at the conference that made me volunteer James.
James agreed, and said that they’d be over as soon as he could collect a few of his supplies. Next thing I knew, James was proudly walking in the door with a portable deep-fryer and several bags of groceries, including two quarts of half and half. I knew that meal requiring that much cream had to be worth waiting for.
I grabbed Gabe and Mel held onto Harold while James performed his kitchen magic, with Buffy acting as his sous chef. Sam, Michelle and their boys headed back upon hearing that James was preparing our dinner. It was quite a sight, big brown James and beautiful blonde Buffy flying around the kitchen. My-oh-my, what a feast came out of that kitchen!
As I sat at Scott’s back yard bar with Mel, Scott and the boys, James presented me with a plate full of pasta cover with fried catfish, to which he had added a creamy crawfish sauce. It was divinely decadent. I barely made it through my meal before beginning to doze off. I kissed everyone good night, thanked chef James, and entered dreamland with the theme song from the conference, “My Breath” playing in my head.