Last night, B set the kitchen on fire. Mind you, these aren't the first flames the Birmingham apartment has seen (remember the unfortunate incident when a batch of brewing tea did battle with lingering turkey grease from Fauxgiving 2007?), but they might be the best. Why? They were intentional.
For our first official Birmingham dinner, B and I celebrated by making Spicy Tequila Shrimp, a delicious combination of lime juice, fresh tomatoes, two (two!) jalapenos, and tequila. B balked at first, hesitant to pour half a cup of the good stuff (clearly, the Agave) into the skillet, but, after we both took a few (ahem) sips from the bottle, he did as he was told and set it on fire.
I'd gone all crazy buying new, longer matches and warning B not to get burned, assuming that there would be some legitimate flare up, but really it was a nice, small, glowing flame that filled my skillet and burned for a good three minutes. By the way, do you know where matches are in Wal-Mart? "Kitchen Appliances." Just an FYI. I stumped two employees before figuring that one out.
So we enjoyed our delicious feast, served over rice, and celebrated a first real dinner at home in Birmingham. Home. Funny how that word shifts and changes. Atlanta was home. Florence has always been home. Birmingham is home. Durham will be home. What's the common link here? For me, in my adult life, it's B. B is home. And that feels just right, flames and all.