grimm forest valentine's day menu

Ah, February. Quite possibly the worst month of the year, this frigid season resembles that of a rotting corpse. The romance of the first winter's snow and the Holiday season now a distant memory, all that's left is the gruesome reality of dirtied sleet, black ice and biting winds. Nature is dead and the Spring's rebirth is not yet apparent. Juxtaposed in the middle of February is Valentine's day, a contrived celebration of love and source of unnecessary stress and anxiety for both singles and couples alike.

I myself am among those who despise this "Hallmark Holiday," since it marked my very first heartbreak. Apparently, clichéd irony is a motif in my life. As a freshman in high school, I was a blush with the freshness of youth and blooming first love. A boy with a warm skin tone and dark, velvet eyes had left me enamored. He was the only boy who had ever flirted with me: everyday in our theater class, he'd sit next to me and ask to borrow a particularly smooth mechanical pencil. When the day of love arrived, I brought a bundle of mechanical pencils adorned with a heart-shaped note that read "Will you go to turnabout with me?" Indeed, my moist, shaky hands held my actual heart, supple with the weight of a first crush and brimming with hope. Of course, he avoided me quite purposefully for the remainder of the day. At 5:00 PM that day, he sent me an instant message stating that he could not attend the dance with me. Thus my bitter disdain for Valentine's Day was born.

2013 heralds a new level of maturity. This year I decided to pull my emotional scars together and use Valentine's Day just like I use any holiday: an excuse to cook. Using inspiration from the grotesque dead-ness of winter, I chose to channel my affinity for the Brother's Grimm stories. My Valentine menu is filled with a woodland ensemble of rich flavors and hearty produce. A cider-braised rabbit is the star of this meal, but like any great production, there are no small roles.

warm kale salad with caramelized shallots, apple, sliced almonds, goat cheese and fennel

I've begun with a lighter approach to Kale. Though praised for it's rich nutrient content, Kale is typically avoided in it's raw form because of it's bitterness and coarse texture. However, a short toasting session softens the greens and the subtle sweetness of caramelized shallots, lemon, toasted almonds, honey, goat cheese, tangy fennel and apple provide a wonderful balance. Paired with some robust whole grain bread and salted butter, this elegant salad performs as the perfect light-hearted introduction to my woodsy Valentine's meal.

cider braised rabbit with anise black quinoa

Freshly cooked pumpkin and vegetable stock, molasses hard cider and fresh juniper berries implements the tastes of a crisp forest in one of my favorite woodland creatures, the rabbit. Though at times gamey, a buttermilk marinade leaves the meat as tender as amish chicken breast but with a stouter flavor. Naturally, dark-gilled mushrooms provide the perfect amount of earthiness. Anise black quinoa with walnuts and rosemary adds a striking darkness as well as rich flavor and crunch.

flour-less chocolate cupcakes with rosemary ganache

No Valentine's day is complete without chocolate. These flour less chocolate treasures taste less like cupcakes and more like perfect mounds of fudge plucked right out of heaven. The rosemary ganache seems to melt into the cake, creating a velvety melting sensation.

Match this meal with a red high in mineral flavor. I chose the snake charmer, which is easy on the budget and boisterous enough to support the many aspects of this opulent February savor. Enjoy.