White Jacket Required (23 page)

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

I
N 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 heart 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.

During the next few weeks, I began to pack up my life. I didn't really have a plan, and it felt almost freeing, the way you feel after collecting a basket of fresh produce from the farmer's market and have a total blank canvas in front of you on which to create your own masterpiece. I started to feel more and more confident that I had made the right decision. I needed to get out of Florida. I knew I wanted to live in Healdsburg, in the town that had originally sparked something so deep in me in July. It was a small town, full of families and foodies, and I loved that it was close to both the ocean and the mountains. More important, there was a certain sense of peace there that my soul ached for. I felt like I could breathe, in a way I'd never experienced in Tampa.

I spent the next few months thinking about making the move and putting out feelers for jobs. I signed up to attend a food blogging conference in San Francisco in the fall, so I knew that I'd be able to visit California soon, even if I wasn't quite ready to move there. Then, one September day, my phone rang with a part-time job offer working at a different winery in Dry Creek Valley, only about fifteen minutes from Healdsburg. This winery was small and organic, and had apparently heard about me when I had been in California with Kendall-Jackson. Without even pausing to think, I said yes. Later that night, I took a deep breath before cancelling my return flight from San Francisco. With a click of the mouse, I had completely changed my life. I stared at the computer screen with my new flight email confirmation for about ten minutes, until my mom called me down for dinner.

Adam had also been offered a job in the wine industry and had accepted as well. Over the weeks our friendship had blossomed via long phone conversations and lengthy emails, and we both couldn't wait to spend more time getting to know each other and exploring Northern California together. Ironically, Rocky would be Adam's new intern, so the three of us would all be together again. Since the guys were moving there before I was, they offered to let me crash on their futon until I found a place of my own. I gratefully accepted, laughing to myself at the craziness of the situation.

In five days I would be taking my second-ever cross-country flight from Florida, this time to move my entire life. Funny, the thoughts that run through your mind when you are packing up your old life for a new one—the things that you keep, the things that define you, and the things that hold you back. Out of all my hundreds of cookbooks, I only packed five. I figured I could send for the rest later and didn't have space for everything. Also included in my “California pile” were old photos, journals, and poems; my favorite dresses, skirts, and T-shirts that formed a timeline of the past six years from sorority parties through culinary school; my yoga mat. Having my whole world reduced to objects felt surreal. I bundled myself up in my faded college sweatpants and an old T-shirt and padded down the stairs to enjoy one of my last meals at my parents' house: my mom's “famous” chicken enchiladas. She had been making them practically forever, and they never failed to comfort me, no matter the situation. Before I knew it, the big morning had arrived. My flight was leaving at 7 a.m. out of Tampa, and I was lugging along two fifty-pound suitcases stuffed to the very brim, a journal, my beat-up point-and-shoot camera, and a book of quotes by Paulo Coelho that a friend had given me for my journey. My dad insisted on being the one to drive me to the airport early that morning.

“Jennifer, you know your mother and I are very, very proud of you,” he said, and I could hear the pain thick in his voice at the idea of losing one child exactly five months after he'd permanently lost the other.

“Dad, I'll be fine. Really. You guys have no need to worry . . . ” I told him with confidence in my voice, trying to mask the fact that I, too, was terrified.

“You were never meant to be fenced in and you have so many extraordinary gifts. I guess it's just your turn to fly,” he said. “We both know we can't keep you here even though we may want to! And you know you can always talk to us about anything, and we will always be here for you.”

“I know. Thanks, Dad. It's going to be fine, I promise. You are only a phone call away, and I'll see you again before we know it.” I said this without really knowing when the next time would be. We pulled into the terminal, and my dad stopped by the curb.

He lifted my suitcases from the trunk, and I hoisted my backpack up over my shoulders. “Well, I guess this is it!” I said and gave him a long, tight hug.

“You be safe now, you hear? I love you.” My dad had tears in his eyes, and I realized that this was only the second time I had ever seen him cry.

“I love you, too. I'll call you this afternoon,” I said and watched him walk away and get back into the car while I was left standing there with my life stuffed into two bags and a backpack, waiting for a plane to take me west.

Once on the plane, I sat back in my seat and took a very deep breath. I couldn't believe this was really it; I was really moving away on my own, to return only on holidays. I was going to start a whole new life in a place I had only visited once for a short weekend. I had nowhere to live. Never before had my life been so spontaneous . . . and scary. I pulled out the Coelho book and read as my plane crossed the sky.

My decision to leave everything I had known and move to California was purely based on passion and intuition. I had a feeling deep down that California was where I was supposed to be, and so I simply went. I felt remarkably the same as I did on my very first morning of Basic Skills class, when the kitchen was still quiet and I had lined up my sharp knives at my station and tied on my apron tight. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I knew that it was going to be a really great adventure.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I
T HAS ALWAYS BEEN MY DREAM TO WRITE THIS BOOK. THE
journey hasn't been the easiest, but after three years of late nights, part-time jobs, and dozens chocolate chip cookies, I finally have something I am so very proud of. I couldn't have done any of it without my family and friends, who constantly believed in me even when I didn't believe in myself; my editors, who helped me become a better writer every day; and most of all, without all of you who continue to read my website every single day without fail, lift my spirits when I'm down, and always give me a reason to smile. I cannot thank you enough for your constant support and encouragement throughout this journey. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.