Romantic disaster is originally a Latin dish, though it has been so universally beloved that it has taken on local flavors wherever it is prepared. In Russia, romantic disaster is served cold, with plenty of vodka to lubricate its service, where Japanese romantic disaster is as much about the presentation as it is substance. African romantic disaster is more comic than pungent, and Italian romantic disaster always seems to reference anal sex at some point.
This recipe is handed down from my mother, whose own mother offered it to her, with only a few changes enforced by wartime wants: Grandma’s disaster is dressed in plain clothes and seasoned with a heavy dose of illusion, whereas successive generations favored a more colorful and realistic palate.
The one ingredient that all disasters seem to agree on—the proverbial roux in the gumbo—is an inequality of romantic intent. Uniformity of intent can always lead to disaster, but the most succulent, flavorful, and rich dishes mine the veins of expectational fat that interlard the early stages of any relationship.
INGREDIENTS:
Romantic intention
A fulsome heart
Two to four children
A handful of shared assets, e.g., cars, houses, debts—all will work
Well-worn desire
NOTE: If desire is unavailable, you may substitute desperation, or a scant ration of malice, though too much malice has a tendency to overwhelm the dish
Two domiciles, within walking distance of each other
Clothes for dressing (Light, tangy, expressive clothes—colorful sweaters or ballroom gowns are good here. Try not to use faded or moth-eaten clothes, as they can dull expectations.)
A pinch of illusion
Lingerie and body hair for garnish
Start by preheating your expectations to as high a degree as your relationship can comfortably stand. For most, this will be ‘til death do you part, though for some, a vague insistence that you have never felt this before can suffice. The key is to get the expectation high enough that a gap opens up vis-à-vis reality.
Lay your intentions on the counter. Trim the bad ideas off—but don’t throw them away! Many creatures thrive on the ill intentions of others. Cats, for example. You should have enough to fill a reasonable frame of youthful reference: a couple years at least, though if you can get your intentions to pan out over a decade, all the better.
Next, take the fulsome heart out of the fridge and cut it in two. Place the two halves cut side down on the intention and season well with desire. It is important to apply desire at this early stage so that it has a chance to seep into all the aspects of the catastrophe later.
Add shared assets to taste, trussed with intention in a tight bundle. The bundle should be so tight that habits will shatter on its surface; if not, bad habits will persist and you will wind up with a flavorless disaster.
Gently dress the trussed intention in colorful clothes. You want the desire to be visible, but covered here and there with quotidian fabrics and patterns. Now, place the trussed bundle of assets and expectations in one of the two domiciles for a period of up to a decade.
Next, have two or three children in rapid succession. You must have children while everything is still light and in motion, before the heat of the domicile fixes the intention. (Note: Most chefs refer to this process as “sublimation,” and insist that good sublimation is the key to silky disaster with rounded mouthfeel.)
Add children just as the intention starts to set. You will notice small cracks that no longer fill in of their own accord: This means that the intention is firm, and now cannot handle the application of responsibility. Season with illusion to help remove this bitter foretaste.
Just before serving, spread lingerie around the domicile. You want the audience to find it before you are aware that you left it there.
Serve the disaster hot, on a bed of lingerie, dusted with body hair as on hand. Leftovers, if any, can be thrown in the face of your partner as they leave you.
Serves two.
