Bill took me on a food date tonight. It was an opportunity for us to learn to cook together. I'm all for a man who can cook for himself so I told him it was a fantastic idea.
The pizzeria the lesson was affiliated with was swanky, a little too fancy for someone like me. They took us back into the kitchen which was squeaky clean.
We started first, obviously, making the dough. A chef showed us how to make the dough and then later how to shape it. It was very sensual. Bill stood behind me and together we kneaded the dough into a circle.
"It still seems kinda thick to me," Bill said.
"Well, some people like a thick crust. I'm okay with it."
"I'd like to try something first."
Bill picked up the dough and began throwing it up in the air like we've seen people do on TV. The chef didn't seem to like it but he didn't stop us either.
Bill tossed the dough higher and higher. One toss went higher than he intended and the dough came down on his head.
I gasped and threw my arms up in the air. The chef came running and pulled the dough off of Bill's head.
I was beyond mortified but Bill was laughing. I started to laugh, too.
"I'm so sorry, sir," the chef said, "I should have stepped in and said something. I'll speak to my manager about a discount for the inconvenience."
The chef left the room.
Bill smiled and whispered in my ear, "If I had known that, I would have burned myself and would could have got the entire lesson for free."
We started laughing again.