We met in college while working at California Pizza Kitchen. I thought he was handsome, and he followed me around the restaurant delivering extra ranch dressing to my tables and opening bottles of wine for me. He kissed me one Friday night after a late shift, I was smitten, and then he ignored my calls for a week. Then he called me, and I ignored his calls. But whatever phase of the ridiculous dating dance we found ourselves in, we'd usually end up together in the dive bar across the street from the restaurant, smooching to "Don't Stop Believin'" after eleventy six Miller Lites.
5 years later, I still think he's handsome, although I've mastered the art of opening my own wine. We share an obsessive love of Mad Men, Mexican food, and our dogs. He puts up with my messes (a trail of shoes and dirty laundry follows me around our house), and I put up with his questionable taste in snack foods (atomic jalapeno Cheetos are never ok). If he's not marathon running, playing exquisite classical guitar, or working on his dissertation, he's charming the little kids in my family, or listening intently while my dad recounts the 1981 NFC playoff game. And get this: he does the dishes. All. The. Dishes.
A guy like that comes along once in a lifetime, so his birthday dessert matters. While I've never seen him turn his nose at any of my baked creations, John Francis is a chocolate-peanut butter man. And since he's watched me make countless birthday cakes, I knew I wanted to mix it up and surprise him with something special. Enter the ice cream cake...