Leftovers. But Cookies for the Cookie Jar

I've been told that it's just because it's the honeymoon period. I hear side remarks, breathy whispers, and Outlook Messenger dings expressing that it won't last much longer.
Just watch - she won't be cooking like that in two months. Just wait till she has kids - she won't have the time. Just think how much she's spending on groceries every night. Just look at how much easier it is to order in.

Pshaw. For two months, plus the four years that Peter and I were dating before we said, "I Do", I've proved the nay-sayers wrong. I've continued to cook, and usually something new and different, just about every night that we're together. And fine, we still might be in our honeymoon period, but my goal is to never leave it. My goal is to live, at least after hours, during the weekend, and during our vacation days, like we are back in the south of France.

Tonight, I feel like the others got the best of me though. I gave in a bit. Instead of staying on the Champs Elysees part of our honeymoon, I took us into the more humble part of town. Leftover-ville. A place that wasn't on the itinerary - a place that I've had a love / hate relationship with in the past.
(Love: Veal Parmesan, Thanksgiving Day, and Goulash leftovers.
Hate: Meatloaf leftovers. And for some reason, more often than not, the leftover on tap growing up was always meatloaf.)
But a place that I thought we needed to give a shot.

With a refrigerator full of Tupperware from a week's worth of overcooking; with a closer eye on the budget; and with a renewed commitment to not being wasteful, I decided we were going to have innovative instant replay. The Chili from Sunday was, "poof!" turned into beef brisket tacos for Peter; I indulged in the creamy spinach, sausage and pine nut pasta from Tuesday which was zested up with the small pumpkin from our porch roasted to perfection; and the remaining enchilada accoutrement from our celebration of La Dia de los Muertos on Wednesday was our salad.

It worked, and we still toasted the meal. But I felt like I was leading us astray - that if I kept it up I would lead us right out of honeymoon land. So I figured I could make up what I lacked on the stove, in the oven. I took out the flour, sugar, butter, and eggs; almonds, lemons, and cointreau; and whipped up one of my favorite desserts - biscotti. Those heavenly, long, thin logs that Mia's grandma used to send her; that Mia used to store in the kitchen for a snack after practice; that I used to wake up at 2:00 and 3:00 in the morning to not-so secretly steal. Those perfect cookies that are conceivably light enough to have five or six. And the cookies that I was dying to have the perfect recipe for.

I turned to Smitten Kitchen of course - her "hole in one recipe" was all that. And with the added lemon zest, a little more. Five or six. That would be kind. 

By 8:30, we had moved out of leftover-ville and into the upgraded Italian influenced patisserie around the corner. Better yet, by 8:30, we had more leftovers, and they filled the cookie jar. So tomorrow, after Peter takes off his costume ...

And I'm relieved of my Vanna White duties, we will be able to come back to our honeymoon phase over a biscotti or two.

Lo.