Yesterday was my–gasp–32nd anniversary and to celebrate Dr. Feelgood and I ordered takeout pizza from a place that specializes in Roman inspired thin, crunchy crust pizza. I made us each a ginger martini, and we sat on our patio and talked about A Place to Call Home. It was lovely–any meal I don’t have to make is a good one–but not especially romantic. Which was fine.

If you were to ask my husband, he’d say the most romantic meal he’s ever had was a picnic I brought him in the weeks we were first dating. I’d gone to our local gourmet shop and gotten Pâté de Canard a l’Orange, Cotswold and brie cheese, raspberry jam, a baguette, chocolate truffles, and a split of champagne. He still talks about that meal to this day.

I’d say the most romantic meal we’ve ever had was at the famed Union Square Cafe, the first time he and I went to Manhattan together. It was the nicest place I’d ever eaten and absolutely everything tasted like a gift from the gods. We were in the salad days of our relationship and even the smallest things we did seemed infused with wonder.

I am rarely struck by food scenes in romance. I do love the descriptions of the pastries Maria makes in Laura Lee Guhrke’s Secret Desires of a Gentleman and, though I think it’s Sherry Thomas’ weakest romance, the meals Verity prepares in Delicious sound divine. But, other than those two, I can’t recall any meals whose description made me salivate.

How about you? What’s your idea of the perfect romantic meal? And are there meals in romance that you think are splendiferous?