Warning: Sentimental Confections Inside

Quote of the week: "It's like a valentine from your mother. It's bound to melt your heart." ~ Melt Your Heart, Jenny Lewis

Well, my friends, it is Valentine's Day, and I am feeling a bit sentimental. Oh, I know. It's so cliche! And, I'm sorry I am about to subject you to soft-hearted recollections of a box of chocolates, but not sorry enough to write about something else.

If you were following back in the Digital Girl days, you know I don't have a great history with Valentine's Day, gastronomic or otherwise. Remember the ill-fated heart-shaped carrot cake? Or the awkwardly received romantic poem presented with a so-so brownie?

Oh yes, I have tales to tell. But on this Valentine's Day as I slowly over-caffeinate with strong Italian coffee on a sleepy Sunday morning in my bachelorette apartment, I am not thinking about the men of the past; I am thinking about my mom.

It's okay, let it out... Awww....

Back in the days of pony tails and knee socks, plaid jumper uniforms, hot lunches with tater tots, hopscotch and Mother May I... way back when... coming home from school with a Valentine holder made of two paper plates stapled together... finding a pretty heart-shaped box of chocolates on the kitchen counter...

That box, with it's gorgeous red satin, its pretty bow, its bounty of truffles and caramels and solid dark chocolate bites... to my unfettered eight-year-old heart, that box was pure love. And every year, without fail, the box would be there on Valentine's Day from mom (and dad)... from the years of boys chasing girls around the playground to the years after I had left Illinois when the chocolates were sent by mail instead of being left on the kitchen counter.

The chocolates always came with a fancy card, and sometimes, a little extra gift. One particularly rough year when I lived in Cali, my mom sent a little ceramic bear holding a heart that opens to photos of her and my father. The bear is sitting next to my computer this morning staring at me with an accusatory glint in it's clay eyes. And each year, the chocolates became more sophisticated, from Whitman's to Fannie May to Godiva.

Sometime during the no-sugar days (see Sugar, Sugar Everywhere), I told my mom to stop sending Valentine chocolates (and Easter candy, and birthday treats). It may have been the same year that one of those boys gave me a brown envelope filled with conversation hearts because he said, what do you give to a girl who doesn't eat sugar on Valentine's Day? Um, gee, I don't know, but it's depressing to hear those mini hearts scratching against the paper, leaving a fine coating of chalky dust on the inside of the envelope.

Anyway, the first year I didn't receive that box of chocolates, boy was I sorry. Because somehow, it became clear to me, that I had hurt my mom's feelings. And, even though I couldn't eat those damn chocolates, I still wanted them. Because...

(sorry, readers, here it comes...)

...because that box was filled not just with chocolates but with love.

(yep, I warned you...)

And, I had effectively told my mother I didn't appreciate that each year, she thought about me and loved me so much that she picked out a box of chocolates and a flowery card to send me in the mail. I blew it.

Oh, we are over it by now, my mom and I though there are no chocolates in the mail. But, this year, I have decided, on my way to celebrate KG's birthday, I'll be stopping at L.A. Burdick, one of my favorite chocolatiers to buy myself a heart-shaped box of chocolates. Because I am feeling, not only sentimental, but self-indulgent. And next year, I will send my mom a box of chocolates, because after all these years, she should be the one receiving a box full of love in the mail.

Happy Valentine's Day, readers. And Happy Chinese New Year.

Stay tuned! Less sentimental ponderings and quite possibly new cocktails to come next week! Oh, and hats off to HA for throwing a lovely pre-Valentine's party on Friday night. From heart-shaped figs to airy pink confections, the spread was delightful!