Now I didn't cook B a chicken, but we do have an Engagement Sandwich. The lawyers at his firm gave him a hard time for letting me cook the food for what would come to be known as our engagement dinner. He had an excellent rebuttal, though. According to B, "If I'd cooked the dinner, she would've known something was up." Touche.
So B and I had made this sandwich once before, to take to the park, and it's packed with all his favorite things... artichoke hearts, roasted red bell peppers, cheese I can't pronounce. It was a huge hit because it stayed together and stayed warm the whole time we a) unpacked the car, b) settled on the blanket, c) discovered the ground was soaked, and d) relocated to a park bench. I knew it'd be perfect for what I thought was our semi-planned voyage up to Vulcan.
You know how this story ends, but I have a feeling that my history with this sandwich is just beginning. I wrote about it, and about B's love of all things sandwich, on my work blog. Check it out, then go make one of your own. Maybe I'll revamp this whole "Engagement Chicken" idea, after all.