My dining room table would be set with mismatched, vintage floral china placed on top of a soft, white table cloth. Daisies would be proudly sprouting from a large mason jar placed in the center of it all. A bottle of Vouvray would be chilling in an ice bucket with it’s cork out ready to be poured. I’d have Pink Martini’s Sympathique playing in the background. My guests would arrive just before the rain started, and while I filled their glasses with wine, someone would open the window so that we could hear it come down. We’d start off talking about the weather (thunderstorms ahead) and politics, but at some point, and I’m not sure why, we’d soon be divulging our funniest, most embarrassing moments. I’d pop open another bottle of wine, and worry that maybe I didn’t buy enough. We’d all sit around the table making toasts to each other–most would be silly, but one or two would tug at our hearts. Lunch starts with a spring salad dressed with a simple pine nut, white balsamic vinaigrette. Thunder would roll in the distance, and the table would get giddy. I’d take out the potato, leek, and Gruyere tart from the oven and the giddiness would turn to “oohs and ahhs”. Not much conversation would happen then, and the tart would disappear quickly.  I’d clear the plates, and turn on the coffee maker. However, the coffee pot would never be poured, but two more bottles of wine surely would. I’d fill bowls with homemade vanilla ice cream, and top them with the first berries of the season. We’d eat this in the living room with our feet propped up on the coffee table and couch. The sun makes his appearance “hooray!”, and so to delay the end of a special time we’d all go for a walk together around my neighborhood.  Continue reading →