We celebrated our 11th anniversary by celebrating our 8th anniversary. Confusing? It’s too hard to explain, so just go with it. Anyway, Kevin planned a crazy, amazing getaway that started with leaving our boys at my parents’ house, driving north through an Indian reservation, boarding a 22-car ferry, and landing on Lummi Island, population 442.
Once off the ferry we grabbed some lunch at one of the two restaurants on the island and ate on the deck, looking out over the water and beyond that, Mt. Baker. It looked enormous that day, like, this:
So I took a picture. It turned out like this.
I swear, the first picture is more accurate!
We drove up to the place Kevin rented for us and I started to exclaim that I couldn’t believe he rented a whole house for us, but then I checked myself and said I could believe he rented a whole half a house for us:
He explained that all the rooms he could rent on the island only had one bed and he knows that I sleep best in my own bed, so he got a house with two bedrooms. Is that the most romantic thing a husband could do for his wife…or the least romantic? Either way, I pointed to the couch and reminded him that he’ll be sleeping there anyway, so it didn’t matter.
Dinner was insane, I mean insane. If you are a vegetarian, please stop reading here and go make a donation to Peta instead. Meat-eaters, read on:
Dinner started with individual boxes that released a delicious puff of smoke when we opened them, revealing a perfect smoked mussel inside. We tried to take a picture but it had the same results as the Mt. Baker picture:
(Imagine instead a puff of smoke like a genie coming out of that box.)
It progressed to garden flowers served in nasturtium puree, smoked salmon that tasted like candy, one deep fried kale chip dotted with truffle paste, and then a bunch of courses I don’t remember because I was trying to drink enough wine that I would be okay eating the course that was coming a little later: venison tartar.
I ate it. I was good, but also a bit sad. I almost cried.
Then we were served a prawn grilled with its own roe, which set off a long discussion about would you rather be grilled with your own babies alongside you or without your babies (Kevin thought it would be an insult for someone not to want to grill your babies, while I though it would be the worst possible thing that could happen to my babies). Either way, it made me want to cry a bit harder. I held the tears in, though, knowing the chef would likely harvest my tears for a broth to serve alongside my own babies. Besides, it all tasted so good!
Dessert was really crazy: wild island berries served in a grass broth. Grass broth. And since I live in Washington State, I should clarify that is was the kind of grass that grows in your yard and needs to be mowed once a week. It was AWESOME. I know you don’t believe me, but it was!
We pretty much ate our way through the two days of our trip, which doesn’t make for a great blog but does make for a great 8th and/or 11th anniversary.