A Good Ol' Classic

It was a wonderfully rainy day; all day, it poured then drizzled, poured and drizzled. I love the rain. Every day, I praise myself for making the move to Seattle Washington. It's been 8 months and I couldn't be happier.

I have a job I love. Working remotely and for yourself really is the dream and a dream come true. I wake up at 9 a.m and don't start work until 11:30 a.m., for goodness sake! I usually drink 3 cups of coffee, smoke a few bowls of Skywalker OG, my favorite strain, and start my job.

I'm a writer of food. A food blogger. I love food. I love to grow, cook, bake, and especially love to eat food. Getting high and eating a ton of food. Oh. The dream, I say!

On that rainy day, I had the best meal of my entire 30 years on this earth.

I went to my best friends house, who is also a foodie, so we could have a few glasses of wine and talk about the place we would go to that night to eat and judge. But when the weather became almost hurricane-like, we decided to stay in.

So then we began talking about what we could make. He had very few ingredients. Bread, butter, several different types of cheese, tomatoes, bacon, eggs, some sandwich meats.

"Hey," I called.

"What?" he called back from the other room.

"Let's make tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches," I hollered back.

"I haven't had that meal since I was like, 14. I'm so down," he said.

And so we pulled everything we needed out, down to spices and seasonings, and started the process for homemade, from scratch, tomato soup. Tomato soup is absolutely one of my favorite soups. It just warms my body and soul. Once that was finished, we started on the grilled cheese sandwiches.

"Mind if I take the reigns on these? I haven't made a grilled cheese in years." he said.

"That doesn't make me want to give you control..." I countered.

"Come, on! Trust me!" he whined.

"Alright fine. These better be good!" I said, as I began opening another bottle of wine. I sat at the dining room table and sipped on wine. I thought it odd how much I was looking forward to a grilled cheese and some tomato soup, but realized something in me was needing that good, wholesome feeling you get when you eat such a classic meal. A humbling feeling. A childlike feeling when you're about to eat your favorite meal.

He brought the food out, plated and bowled already and covered, on a tray. He served me first, then himself and set the tray down in the kitchen. He came back and revealed the food to me. Not only did it look beautiful, it smelled delicious. The steam of the tomato soup, rising and carressing my face. The smell of the buttered, toasty bread, and the way the cheese was stringy as I pulled it apart. It was all so magical.

But the true magic was in the first bite.

As a foodie, I have to taste things separately and then together. So I tried the soup first. It was creamy, and I could taste the sweet basil and the spice of the chili flakes--not too much so it doesn't overpower the soup.

And then, the piece de resistance. The grilled cheese. So stringy, so cheesy, so delicious I wanted to cry. He made bacon in the same pan so the bread had an amazing flavor and crispiness. The cheeses he used, perfectly melted together: havarti, colby jack, swiss. It seems too much, but it's the perfect cheese combination.

And when you dipped the sandwich, OH! Everything perfectly coming together in flavor, in harmony.

"Dude," I began saying, with a mouthful of food.

"I know," he said, also with a mouthful.

"Never forget this recipe," I begged him.

He only shook his head, and then went back to his plate.