[title type="h5"]Sunday, December 7, 2014.
The Best Day Of Her Life.
[/title]
Those whose birthdays or wedding anniversaries fall on a memorable date are lucky. Today is, in addition to the day that has lived in infamy since 1941, Mary Ann's birthday. The number on it she takes in her stride. But that's how it goes. I didn't mind turning 40 or 50 or 60. It was 41, 51, and 61 that were hard to take, because they all established trends.
Mary Ann loves birthdays, especially her own. In ordinary years, we would already have held a few special events marking her milestone. But this is not an ordinary year, even with the zero at the end of her age. Planning Jude's wedding festival next week overwhelms everything else.
But there was nothing missing from this party. Our friends the Fowlers offered us the use of their expansive for the occasion. Mary Ann cooked all day, to make sure she had the food she liked. That started with a large tray of salumi and cheeses, about which I heard more compliments than anything else--even though it involved no cooking, just arrangement on a big tray. She made puff-pastry pinwheels stuffed with ham and cheese. Beggar's purses with mushrooms inside. A controversial shrimp mold--her big sister's specialty, always loved by many but questioned by a few. MA being the way she is, she noted that her meatballs were tough and her artichoke balls the worst she ever made. Despite those drawbacks, I was told by more than a few guests that they liked all of that.
My assignments were to prepare an oyster dish (I devised a baked oyster dish with a topping made mostly of parsley and potato chips that turned out well enough that I will try it again and measure the ingredients. And shrimp remoulade, and wood-grilled sausages. (No occasion involving food can be without sausage, Mary Ann believes.) She also wanted me to tend a full bar and pour wine.
Mary Leigh, of course, built one of her brilliant cakes for her mother. All chocolate, of course. The Marys love their chocolate. The cutest part was a circular pile of cookies made in the shape of the number 60.
I had two surprises for my darling wife on this big day. The first was an all-evening concert by Daniel "The Gourmet Cellist" Lelchuk and Benjamin Hart. Both are members of the Louisiana Philharmonic. Violinist Benjamin is also the associate concertmaster of the LPO. To say that this was a superb musical note for the party understates it. Mary Ann holds Daniel in an esteem matched only by the one she feels for our son Jude. I thought the music would be a big surprise, but somehow she found out about it. Which took nothing from her enjoyment.
What she didn't know was that near the end of the party, the doorbell would ring and in would stride Jude, just off the plane from Los Angeles. She had been trying to persuade him to take a day off and come to her birthday, saying (truthfully) that if he wasn't there, the affair would add a touch of melancholy to her mood. Jude's story was that he had just been here for Thanksgiving and would be back in a couple of days for his wedding. And that he had some urgent work to do on one of his movie productions. In fact, he bought airline tickets for today months ago.
A problem turned up. Delta changed its schedule, forcing Jude's arrival to late evening. That turned out to be a good thing. All night MA moped a little. And suddenly, there he was, her golden boy. Nothing on earth could have pleased her more. Both she and the other women of her generation--particularly all three of her sisters--were weepy with joy.
The party was pretty good, too. I persuaded almost everybody to try a Negroni cocktail. Our string section was the first to indulge. (Daniel preferred his without the orange slice. An epicure, he.) We had a few older (early 1980s) bottles of wine, but I forgot to bring my ah-so cork remover and we had some trouble with disintegrating corks. Michael Fowler was pleased to lend me some bottles from his stock. The Fowlers might still be cleaning up the mess we made. It's wonderful to have good friends.
When we ascended the steps to our home, Mary Ann said, "That was the best day. . . " She paused for two seconds. "Of my life," she concluded. She doesn't indulge in hyperbole, and even wonderful things have problems in her view. But not tonight. This was perfection.
