Oh, but this sounds like heaven. A hot lunch of your choice of curry, samosa, bread, or other bits delivered to your office (your home office! dream on, dream on) every day.
Photo from The Guardian UK
Home cooked and made by somebody’s Indian mother. How wonderful…
(Did I mention that HB proposed to me at an Indian restaurant, the Taj Mahal? Its menus featured the tagline “romance in dining.”)
For R. & L., who are ready to pop any day now, and for M.’s sister in March.
HB and I were lugging our bulging baby bag and baby to the park one day when he was about 11 months old when we saw a dad climb out of his car with his undiapered, upright-walking, speech-enabled sons of 6 and 9. (Ages given in years.) This father had a bottle of water in his hands. His cell phone was in his back pocket. And that was all.
It blew our foggy, somebody-in-the-house is-teething, sleep-deprived little minds.
or should i say, it’s the don’t worry muffin?
while reading dire news stories at the LA Times about the dreaded convergence of the writers’ strike and the spiralling-the-drain local real estate/financial services sector and its impact on the southland economy, i come across recipes for yummy AND nutritious muffins: apple oatmeal, kamut and cheese, and whole wheat sweet potato. they’re kind of a chowhoundy mama’s wet dream.
life is like that: jangly five alarm bells of fight-or-flight, and quiet moments of mellow muffinhole stufffin’.
waaaay back when, i was a graduate student in northern california long before the Unreliable Narrator came along. i had infinite time to attend parties and barbeques. through a friend at one such bbq i met a woman and her charming boyfriend.
we all talked of harsh immigrant parenting methods (me: smackings with the back of a brush on the hand, her: the dreaded chancla–slipper–the floppier, the more painful).
the charming boyfriend was aaron sanchez, a second-generation chef who originally grew up in NYC but was living and probably making his bones at some san francisco restaurant when we met him. we got straight from his lips the word about nueva latino (nouvelle latino cuisine, combining continental methods and ingredients with mexican, spanish, and latin american ones.) just the idea of it was enough to make HB and me salivate. and this was back in the mid-’90s, when no one had heard of nueva latino.
last year’s pumpkinliner (quaint little train in fillmore, ca, that takes you to the pumpkin patch for halloween) was so delightful then, but is soooo babyish now. this year, the Unreliable Narrator expressed a wish to go apple picking. given our type A, geeky natures, both HB and i hopped online to look for such a place. it turns out you can go apple picking within two hours of los angeles.
a garden and working/teaching kitchen attached to a new charter school in a part of new orleans destroyed by hurricane katrina.
has it really been two years?
there’s been a bit of a kerfluffle in the mommy blogosphere about jessica “married to puffy-shirted jerry” seinfeld’s new cookbook, Deceptively Delicious. basically, it teaches you how to smuggle veggies into food you make for your (younger) kids.
i was surprised that citymama weighed in so negatively, especially as she said up front that she hadn’t read the book. normally i like citymama’s postings, but this one seemed really off base. but hers wasn’t the only response that triggered a whole lotta hate and accompanying haterade.