Yesterday, my husband, Clif, and I celebrated our thirty-third wedding anniversary. What a strange thing to think that we have been married to each for over half our lives. We are way past the ten-year mark, and, indeed, in seven more years we will hit the forty-year mark. Holy guacamole, as our daughter Dee would say. Clif and I are both getting up there, that’s for sure.

We briefly considered going out to eat to celebrate our big day, and we even had coupons for a buy-one-entrée-get-one-free deal at a local restaurant that’s not too bad. But being a frugal couple, we started doing the math, and we figured that even with the two-for-one deal, we would end up spending between $40 and $50, depending on what we ordered. In addition, Augusta, Maine, is not known for its fine dining. Maine has many first-rate restaurants, but they are at least an hour away, and, along with our budget, we are always conscious of our carbon footprint. We knew we could do much better cooking our own special meal.

“What would you like?” I asked Clif.

He did not hesitate. “”

Clif’s love of scalloped scallops rivals his love of roast turkey, and it is what he asks for on special occasions. He recently declared, “It is the best scallop dish I have had. Ever.” The scallop recipe I use is based on an old Yankee recipe from our 1930s The Boston Cooking School Cook Book by none other than Fannie Merritt Farmer. Over the years, especially now with the foodie revolution well underway in the United States, Yankee cooking and Fannie Farmer have become, shall we say, a little déclassé. Oh, those boring garlic-averse, white-sauce-loving Yankees. What is the use of their recipes? But here I find myself defending Yankee cooking. While it is true that Yankee cooking is not known for its spices, and some of the food is downright plain, it is also true that when the ingredients are topnotch, plain food cooked well is, in fact, utterly delicious. (And if a Franco-American can defend anything Yankee, then there is hope for the Israelis and the Palestinians. Let’s just say that in Maine, the relationship between the Francos and the Yankees has not always been as smooth as the white sauce those Yankees loves so much.)

When it comes to scalloped scallops, I completely agree with Clif—they are damned good, and they are simplicity itself. Here is the list of ingredients: scallops (naturally!), cracker crumbs, breadcrumbs, butter, salt and pepper. Milk or cream. And that is it. Cook them for forty minutes or so, and you have yourself a pretty good meal.

So scalloped scallops it was, and along with them we had homemade bread, baked potatoes, and a cabbage, carrot, and toasted almond salad with a cider vinegar and brown sugar dressing. Now, I don’t like to exaggerate, but as the saying goes, Clif tucked into those scallops like there was no tomorrow. I did get a decent-sized spoonful, plus a couple of extras, but he ate at least half the scallops, and by the time he was done, there was just a small serving leftover for lunch the next day. Clif was definitely the good eater last night.

The only stumble came with dessert. I made a pie I have never made before—Marjorie Standish’s Lemon Sponge Pie. (I decided if I was going to go Yankee, I might as well go all the way.) It’s basically a lemon custard pie, and like all custards you bake it hot for fifteen minutes or so. Then, you turn down the oven and finish baking it. The initial blast of heat stops the crust from becoming a soggy mess. Dutifully following the instructions, I baked the pie at 425° F for fifteen minutes, turned the oven down to 325°, and baked the pie for another twenty-five minutes. When the timer rang, and I opened the door to check on the pie, I was disconcerted to see that the top was dark brown—almost burnt looking—and I immediately removed the pie, fearing the top would indeed burn if I left the pie in any longer. Unfortunately, the middle wasn’t done, and it was soupy, but ironically, the top tasted very good, reminiscent of a crème caramel. Perhaps leaving it in for another five or ten minutes would have been just fine, but I won’t be making this pie again to find out. Its flavor was not as lemony as we would have liked, and I’ll be experimenting with other lemon pies. Still, all was not lost. We were able to drain off the excess liquid and have a pie that was reasonably tasty.

Despite our disappointment with the pie, we both enjoyed our home-cooked anniversary meal. Even with the scallops, which admittedly are a little pricey, we estimated that the entire meal cost us no more than $17, a far cry from the $40 or $50 we would have spent going out.

We were so pleased with ourselves, that we’ll probably do the same thing—minus the lemon sponge pie—next year.

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