It was noonish on the day before Valentine’s Day when my husband and business partner leaned into my office and lamented, ”It’s going to be sooooo gorgeous tomorrow. Too bad we can’t go skiing.”

With that he vanished.

I mashed the ”save” button on my computer and trotted after him into the kitchen.

Me: Whoa! What do you mean ”Too bad we can’t go skiing?” I’d love to.

Steve: Well, so would I. In fact, it was going to be my Valentine gift to you. Picnic and everything. But my skis are shot. Remember last season? I vowed it would be my last with that gear. I’d have to be completely outfitted. The works. Skis, bindings, boots, and poles. Plus … the cleaner shrunk my ski pants.

Me: Okay, so let me get this straight. Your proposed Valentine’s Day gift to me is a day of cross-country skiing in the Cascades, which can only take place if we head downtown right now to buy you a brand new set of skis, bindings, boots, poles, and ski pants. Plus, I have to write like a mad woman until midnight or beyond to make all my newspaper deadlines before leaving town tomorrow morning.

Steve: Yeah, that about sums it up.

Me: Cool. Giddyup!

With that we flew into action. First stop, our favorite sport shop for a whirlwind shopping spree, followed by a bit of sweet talking to the shop’s equipment guy, who finally committed to having Steve’s new bindings mounted onto the skis by early the next morning. Then it was on to the cheese shop for some terrific picnic fare before landing back at home in our respective offices to wrap up any piece of work that couldn’t wait 48 hours.

So that was how we found ourselves gliding along our favorite winter trail just southwest of Sisters last Valentine’s Day. Skiing smack-dab into the same post-card view of the Three Sisters that most Central Oregon visitors spend 50 cents plus postage to send back home would have been treat enough. But the food wasn’t bad either. Ak-Mak crackers (sesame-topped Armenian cracker bread), extra-aged Gouda, a Zip-loc bag of Jan’s Damn Good Dills, a thick slab of liverwurst with whole-grain German mustard on the side and a Kenwood old-vine zinfandel (decanted into an empty water bottle to shave a few ounces from our packs).

And chocolate, of course. Plenty of chocolate. Because what’s a happy Valentine’s Day without it?

Happy Valentines Day indeed. Starting right now, with a full six-day jump on the event, you’ve got time to opt for romance. Whether it’s a trek into the outdoors or a cuddly moment by a crackling fire, food will most likely come into play at some point. So here are a few ideas from me to sort of nudge good times into being.