Like many other couples, my newfound boyfriend Jordan and I enjoyed a home-cooked meal for Valentine’s Day. Chicken Alfredo lasagna roll ups and green beans were on the menu (his choice) and, luckily for me, he was cooking.

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We pulled the ingredients out of the fridge and I offered to help by snipping the green beans. I soon realized the beans I’d bought on sale at Hy-Vee were not as fresh as I’d thought. Their green skin was dotted with spots, reminding me of an elderly person’s skin.

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“There’s more than enough time to run to the store quick if you want to,” Jordan said.

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This should have been my first clue as to how long it would be before our Valentine’s dinner would be ready. We salvaged the beans we had.

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We got a late start making dinner, so I tried to be helpful by clearing off any extra counter space possible in my duplex’s crammed kitchen. I soon realized Jordan took cooking far more seriously than me. I playfully smacked his leg with a towel and was informed homemade Alfredo sauce requires close attention and there was no time for shenanigans. I took his glare of disapproval as my cue to give him his space and decided to treat myself to some wine in the living room instead.

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I returned to the kitchen after a few glasses, as I knew he expected me to help assemble the roll ups. Tipsy from my bottle of wine, now nearly empty, I was quickly brought back to my senses. Beautiful scents of fragrant garlic and cheeses that hadn’t yet drifted into the living room greeted me as I entered the kitchen.

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It was time to prepare the lasagna pinwheels and the cooked noodles were cool and sticky, oddly similar to my bare feet on the kitchen’s cool linoleum floor (again, yay duplexes). He scooped generous amounts of the white meat sauce onto the flattened noodles as I began rolling. Creamy sauce oozed from the sides of each roll up, leaving a trail of white drops on the counter as I transported them to the baking dish. It took all of my willpower not to lick my fingers between rolls.

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I began to wonder what the point was in rolling them like that, fingering all over the lasagna noodles instead of simply layering them with sauce like one would for a traditional lasagna. I knew better than to ask questions, as it would only slow things down and I was hungry.

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Finally, come 9:30 p.m., the lasagna was pulled from the oven and everything was finished. The one-spotted green beans had turned vibrant, pleasantly complementing the creamy white pasta on the plate Jordan had prepared for me.

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Sauce oozed from the sides of my roll up as I dug my fork in for a bite. The Alfredo sauce was incredible, as if Cupid himself delivered it straight from Italy. My taste buds were finally able to get a share of the garlicky wonderfulness that had filled my nose for the past hour. I was pleasantly surprised by the green beans I’d been so disappointed with shortly before. Paired with bacon, candy onion and garlic, they were nearly as good as our main dish. I guess bacon really does fix everything.

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For the first meal he cooked for me, Jordan did much more than meet my expectations—he set the bar for future meals rather high for himself. I’m still not convinced it was worth the extra effort of rolling the lasagna into cute little bundles, nor did this have anything to do with making them taste so good. However, I will say that the convenience of being pre-portioned certainly helped limit me to just two roll ups, rather than scarfing down half the pan like I wanted to.