The Beauty and the Scamp(i)

Since we’re talking about FIRSTS, I feel I must interject a FIRST culinary story of my own, so long as I don’t have to keep capitalizing FIRST.

For our first date, I took Jamie to the India Garden Restaurant (http://www.indiagardenonline.com/) in Blacksburg. This was very out of character for me, but I figured the choice would prove me to be unique; you know, one-of-a-kind—a complete bad ass. It did. She liked the Indian experience, probably not as much as I love Indian food, but well enough that we’d visit many times in the future. Whether it was the curry or just my sheer awesomeness, she agreed to see me again. But this time, this time I planned on cooking for her. I needed to further impress the one they called Jamie, so I fell back on the only dish I really knew, shrimp scampi.

I’d begun my training in the scampi arts down the road from my childhood home, at the Gorman Culinary Institute (my friend Jeromy’s parent’s house) back in my adolescent years. Mr. and Mrs. Gorman cooked often and well; the latter trait being one my household didn’t so much possess.* One day, after yet another extraordinarily prepared dinner down the road; my first taste of shrimp scampi, I sat comatose in a state of euphoria. I’d had shrimp before, but it was usually fried. What was this new way of cooking? And what was that new flavor still radiating from my mouth…for hours? It was that fateful day I began an undying affair with garlic—a wonder drug deemed taboo in the Jahn house of my childhood. To this day I don’t know why. Oh, and I also learned how to cook shrimp scampi.

Having now a half decade of scampi experience under my chef’s hat, I was a seasoned veteran. Knowing my sidekick garlic would never fail me, I stood undaunted at the counter and commenced the creation of a masterpiece.

Note: pictures used are from a technical writing project back in college, don’t ask. I just wanted to prove I didn’t actually document our first at home date…psycho.

I placed all my ingredients before me and proceeded to cut, chop, season, and pour when necessary.

Some stirs and shakes here and there.

A beautiful layout on the plate. Add garnish. And…

Heaven.

Years later we were married. Did the first scampi experience have anything to do with that? It’s been requested countless times since. So you tell me…


*MOM DON’T READ THAT WRONG, YOU’RE AN AMAZING COOK.