by Jenna Weber
“I’ve been up since 5:30 this morning filming this clip with Greg and Casey,” he said. “I just wanted to say good luck! I’ll be interested to hear how it goes. I’m going last.”
“Thanks! I’m actually pretty glad that I’m going first and then have the whole day to relax,” I replied. “The hotel pool might be calling my name.”
Adam laughed. “Well, I’ll catch you later. Here’s my number if you want to grab something to eat when you’re done.” He wrote on a napkin, and I punched the number into my Blackberry.
The interview was pretty standard. I got asked a bunch of questions about the blog and how I felt I could best promote the company if I were given the job. Interviews have always been one of my strengths, and I ended this one as I always do, with a firm handshake like the one my dad taught me when I was a little girl.
I thought about calling Adam afterward to tell him how it went, but I held off and called Rob instead. He answered after one ring with an excited tone. “Hey! How did it go? I bet you rocked it. I miss you so much!”
“Hi!” I responded. “It went well, I think. I’m just glad I went first. I got to say everything I wanted to say and feel pretty good about it.”
“That’s fantastic. They would be crazy not to want to hire you.”
“Well, don’t get your hopes up. Regardless, this has been such a great experience and I feel like I’ve made some really good friends!” I almost mentioned Adam but bit my tongue. Technically there was nothing between us, and of course I was allowed to have friends who were guys, but I decided not to even go there. “Hey, Babe, I gotta run though. I’m starving and then have to meet with my group about cooking tonight.”
“Okay, I love you!” Rob said, and I clicked my phone shut.
I decided to grab a sandwich on my own and headed over to Oakville Grocery, a homey spot with a large outdoor fireplace and a wine bar inside. All the sandwiches looked delicious, and I was suddenly famished. I chose chicken and Gruyère on a French baguette, and while I was sitting outside my phone buzzed with a text message from Adam. Just finished my interview. Starving . . . lunch? I replied to tell him where I was and then sat back in my chair in the sunshine.
“Hey!” he called as he walked up to the table. “I’m so hungry . . . let me go inside and grab a sandwich.” He came back about ten minutes later with the same sandwich I had ordered and a bottle of iced tea. Noticing me squinting in the sun, he handed me his red aviator sunglasses. I put them on and smiled.
“So, how did it go?” I asked as he dug into his sandwich.
“Great! My approach is to just always be myself in situations like that. This is just between us, but I think there might be a few other opportunities open for us other than this Murphy-Goode job,” he said.
“You think? Like what?” I asked him.
“Well, I don’t know exactly . . . but they sort of hinted to me that there was something else available. Let’s just say tomorrow will be very interesting. By the way, this sandwich is amazing. Do you want a bite?”
“No thanks; I actually just finished the same thing. I love Gruyère!”
We sat outside for another twenty minutes discussing the dinner we were going to make for the group that evening. It turned out we would be cooking for twenty-five people, which was more than I ever had cooked for in the past. I suggested something that could easily be made for a large group, like risotto, and it went from there. Eric was also on our team and said he would make teriyaki steak; I would make my mushroom risotto, and Adam was in charge of dessert. I thought to myself that this was going to be really good. Having a degree in baking and pastry always made me very curious to taste other people’s desserts, and as much as I hated to admit it, I usually judged them on it. Adam seemed to be good at whatever he did, so I was very curious to see how he managed on the dessert front.
Later that afternoon, Adam and I cooked alone in the kitchen while the rest of our group mingled outside. We both were quiet, focusing on our tasks at hand, but the silence wasn’t awkward in the least. An hour or so later, we served the finished products to our guests, who raved about both the risotto and the Mexican cheesecake Adam had whipped up. Hmmm, I thought, the guy can bake! I made a mental note to later ask him to email me the recipe so I could re-create it at home.
The next morning was filled with nervous energy as the ten of us crowded under the tiny gazebo in the park, waiting for Dave to announce who had been chosen for the job. I laughed and joked with Rocky and Carrie and then we all took our seats and Dave picked up the mic.
“I can’t even express what an awesome time it’s been getting to know these ten talented people from around the country. I wish we could hire all of you, but my boss told me only one or else I lose my job.” The crowd broke out in laughter. “So, without anything further, I’d like to welcome Casey as our new Wine Lifestyle Correspondent!”
We all broke out in applause as Casey stood up to give Greg a big hug. Honestly, I was only a little bit disappointed that I wasn’t the one hired. Overall, I felt intense gratitude that I had made it this far and been able to take part in such a fun weekend. I gave Casey a hug afterward and knew that the absolutely perfect person had been chosen for the position. Then, suddenly, I felt an arm on my shoulder and looked up to see the face of one of the women on the PR team for Kendall-Jackson, another California winery owned by the same parent company as Murphy-Goode.
“Jenna, can I talk to you for just a moment?” she asked. I couldn’t believe what she told me next. They wanted me to fly down to Southern California the next day to visit another Jackson family winery. My travel arrangements would be taken care of, and Adam would be accompanying me.
I waited about an hour before calling Adam to see what in the world was going on. Everyone else was going home that afternoon but we would be staying and traveling together the next day. It didn’t even make sense. Adam answered the phone with excitement.
“Ready for tomorrow?” he asked.
“I have no idea what’s going on!” I responded.
We chatted for a few minutes, and then I told him I was exhausted and going to bed early.
I said good-bye to all my new friends as they headed out and then ate a quiet dinner by myself at the little Vietnamese restaurant next door to the hotel. The noodle bowl was absolutely perfect and had big chunks of crispy spring roll mixed throughout, as well as peanuts, scallions, and wedges of lime. It might sound odd, but I’ve actually always enjoyed eating dinner by myself. I relish the entire process and usually bring a book to read while I wait for my food. I figure I either look like I have no friends or like a VIP restaurant critic, since I always take photos of my meals before eating. Either way, it works just fine, and after having such an intense and draining weekend, silence was my best friend.
Early the next morning, we left the hotel and drove to the small Sonoma County airport. I couldn’t believe that I was actually flying down the California coastline in a private plane. It belonged to the owner of the company, Jess Jackson, and was fully stocked with blankets, granola bars, and big bottles of water for us. While Adam chatted with the Jackson family employees up front, I pressed my face against the window in the back and just took it all in. Never before had I seen natural splendor like the stretching miles of mountains and ocean that sprawled before me. Florida seemed like light-years away, and I felt something change from deep inside. I dreaded going back home to the cramped condo I now shared with Rob, dreaded returning to my old life, where it felt like I did the same old thing every day. Not that my life was ever bad, but after experiencing something so new and wonderful, I knew nothing at home would be the same.
We spent the day at the beautiful Cambria wine estate, hiking through the vineyards and getting a whole tour of the winery. Finally, that evening, they put Adam and me into a limo headed for the Los Angeles airport; it was time to go home. We stretched out in the back and I arched my neck to see the city’s skyline through the smog.
“I don’t even
know what to think right now; that was just crazy!” I said to Adam as I jokingly snapped his photo.
“I know. Who knows what the future holds! Ashley was talking to me a little bit about some interesting job opportunities today on the plane, so we’ll see. I love Austin, but California is such an adventure!” he said.
“They didn’t really talk to me about anything job related, and I’m still not quite sure why I’m involved in all this but, hey, I’m not complaining,” I said. “For my first time on the West Coast, I didn’t do half bad!” I laughed, thinking how crazy it was that just one week earlier I had been so far removed from everything out here. I didn’t even want to think about the red-eye flight I was about to take home.
The limo pulled up outside Adam’s departure terminal, and I got outside to give him a hug good-bye.
“Well, who knows. Maybe I’ll see you again one of these days in California!” he said. “Let’s definitely keep in touch; I’ve got some good blogging ideas up my sleeve for you.”
“Yeah, definitely. It was really great to meet you. Hopefully I’ll see you again one day!” I said and then he grinned, threw his backpack on, and walked away. A few seconds later, he looked back over his shoulder at me, and I smiled good-bye before hustling inside.
I made my way into the busy airport and changed out of my nice jeans and blazer into more comfortable clothes for my overnight flight. I wondered if Adam had made his flight on time and thought to text message him, then realized I couldn’t because he’d accidently left his cell phone out in the vineyards at Cambria.
The flight home was long and exhausting and made me realize just how far away I really had been. When we landed around six in the morning, Rob was there waiting for me with open arms. I fell into his embrace and wondered if perhaps the past four days had only been a dream. Tampa seemed hazy and humid, and I could still smell the hotel shampoo in my hair. When we finally got home and I fell into bed, I felt more tired than I ever had in my entire life. I slept all the way into the afternoon, and when I woke up I stumbled around the condo, feeling like something was missing, but I wasn’t sure just what that was.
Mushroom Risotto
Serves 4
Making risotto is almost therapeutic for me, and during the chilly winter months I often enjoy making this for dinner. Served with a nice glass of red wine, it’s all you really need. If you are not familiar with Arborio rice, it is a short-grained rice from Italy that has an especially high starch content. Nowadays, it is found in most supermarkets.
4 to 4½ cups homemade chicken stock (page 84)
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
1 shallot, minced
1 cup Arborio rice
¼ cup dry white wine
1 tablespoon butter
16 ounces sliced cremini or baby bella mushrooms
½ cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
Heat the chicken stock in a small saucepan and keep warm over low heat. Heat the olive oil in a heavy-bottom pot over medium heat until hot but not smoking. Add the shallot and sauté for about 4 minutes, or until tender and translucent. Add the rice and stir well to coat. Cook for 3 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the white wine and cook until all is absorbed, stirring constantly.
Continue to cook the rice, adding the chicken stock, ¼ cup at a time (a ladle does this job nicely), stirring continuously over medium heat until the stock has been completely absorbed by the rice. Do not add more stock until the previous amount has been completely absorbed by the rice. Once all the stock has been incorporated, continue to cook until the rice is just cooked through.
In a separate pan, melt the butter and sauté the mushrooms until tender, about 8 minutes. Add the cooked mushrooms and cheese to the risotto, stirring until combined, and serve.
Adam’s Mexican Cheesecake
Serves 8–10
Admittedly, this is not a fancy recipe, but it is so creamy and delicious and easy, I just had to share it with you. Look for refrigerated crescent rolls near the butter in your supermarket.
2 cans crescent rolls, divided
2 (8-ounce) packages cream cheese
1½ cups sugar, divided
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 stick (8 tablespoons) butter or margarine
1 tablespoon cinnamon, or to taste
Preheat oven to 350°F. Spray a 13- by 9-inch baking pan with cooking spray.
Press one can crescent rolls into pan.
In a medium bowl, combine cream cheese, 1 cup sugar, and vanilla until creamy. Spread mixture over rolls. Cover the cream cheese topping with the remaining can of rolls, pressing pieces together.
In a small saucepan, melt the butter over low heat and stir in the remaining ½ cup sugar and cinnamon until mixture is smooth. Pour over top and bake for 30 minutes.
Serve warm or at room temperature.
23
DISLODGING
IN THE WEEKS THAT FOLLOWED, I TRIED TO SETTLE BACK INTO MY life with Rob, but I knew something in me had changed. I went through the motions, tried to stuff myself back into the box that was my life in Tampa, spending the days by myself blogging from home and hanging out with Rob and his friends at night. But it felt empty; that feeling that something was missing kept nagging at me. It suddenly felt as if I was living my life stuck in a fog. Rob was so excited to have me back, but thoughts of California and new opportunities consumed me. Adam and I had kept in pretty frequent touch through email, and I couldn’t help the strange feeling of connectedness I felt with him. It was as if I had known him forever, even though we had only met two weeks before.
In the end, I knew I couldn’t stay in Tampa; I couldn’t stay in that comfortable condo with the pool and the big kitchen and the man who loved me. It was hard to believe that just one weekend in California could bring about such a monumental shift, but looking back on it now it’s clear that things had been moving in that direction for months. Ever since John’s death, I had felt increasingly smothered. I never loved Tampa, never really wanted to be there, especially with all of the memories of my brother that the town now held. And it wasn’t that I didn’t love Rob anymore; it was more like every day since I came home from California I felt like I was losing myself more and more. And the relationship you have with yourself is the one that you really can’t afford to lose.
About a week after I got home, I made a dinner of oven-fried chicken with a homemade honey mustard glaze and a side of pan-roasted broccoli. When we sat down to eat, though, I barely said a word as I carefully separated the meat from the bone.
“You’re pretty quiet tonight,” Rob observed. “Everything okay?”
“Yep, everything is fine.” I answered quickly. We both knew everything was not fine.
Finally, after moving my broccoli around from one side of the plate to the other, I started to cry.
“Jenna! What’s the matter? Are you thinking about your brother?” Rob moved closer to me and put his arm around my shoulders. I felt horrible.
“I just . . . I just . . . ” I couldn’t seem to get functional words out. “Rob, I just am having second thoughts. About us. I’m sorry . . . I don’t know what else to say.”
Rob just looked at me in disbelief. “What in the world are you talking about?” he almost shouted. I looked down at my chicken and brushed away a tear.
“I don’t know. I don’t know. I just don’t feel right. It’s not you; it’s me. Something is wrong with me. You’re perfect and what every girl dreams about!” I wanted to hold him but he had moved away from me and was now standing near the kitchen.
“Can we just think about this rationally?” Rob asked. “You know you don’t really want to do this, Jenna. We’ve been through so much together!”
“You’re right.” I said. “I don’t know what’s come over me. I think I just need to go to bed.” I felt horrible, but maybe he was right. Maybe I would feel differently in the morning and realize what a fool I was being.
But as I slid into bed that night, I knew in my hear
t that it was over. There was no going back now; my heart’s decision was made.
I told him the next morning. After he left for work, I packed up my some of my cookbooks that I kept at his condo, stacking one after another into brown paper boxes, ignoring all the tabs on the pages or the faded ink cursive that read Rob loves this dish! His first turkey burger! When he left that morning, I stood at the door with tears in my eyes but with nothing more to say, and he just turned his back and walked away.
Everything with Rob had always been so easy. I had never seriously thought that it wouldn’t work out, and we were as comfortable with each other as old married couples. Everything about him was familiar.
So after ending things with him, I deeply missed that sense of comfort. I felt lost, felt like I was drowning. The idea of California became a life raft, and I held on to it tightly. Not just the idea of California, but also the idea of Adam. He and I had been communicating more frequently lately, and as much as I hated to say it, or even think it, I knew deep down what had really happened. I had met someone new, and the possibilities of the unknown were too tempting to resist.
When I returned back to the doorstep of my parents’ house, cookbooks tucked under arm and pillow in hand, my mom let me in and wrapped me in her arms. “Matters of the heart,” she said, “are never, ever easy.” And then my friend Anne came over with three bottles of wine and chocolates and we sat on the carpet and I cried myself into laughter while listening to cheesy songs. I had no plan of what I was going to do, had no job, was basically broke, and now had just unofficially moved back in with my parents, which is pretty much every college grad’s worst nightmare.
The next day I was back at Rob’s condo, hastily packing up dishes, when the five plates I was holding slipped right out of my hand. Sharp pieces of china surrounded me as I sank to my knees and sobbed my eyes out amidst the mess. Who knew if I was making the right decision? I was scared out of my mind. I had just given up the kind of relationship that most people would kill for. I had comfort and safety with Rob, and he treated me like a princess, bringing home cupcakes if he thought I was down, always letting me pick the movie, and leaving love notes for me to find. I’m sure we could have made it work, gotten married, and lived semi-happily ever after.