solo date night

Ella's been teething lately, at least we think so, which means getting her to sleep through the night is unheard of. Last night she did pretty well, but she's also a nap-resister. Big time. So today she slept some in the car, and that was it. She only just went to bed for the night too, and I'm hoping she might even stay asleep until the morning, and I do mean that literally--like anything after midnight. I just dropped Chris and Elliot off at a scotch tasting event at The Muddy Pig in St. Paul and my dad's going to pick them up later, so I am already indulging! I thought about calling a friend to come hang out, and then I thought I'd rather not have to share my New Glarus Wisconsin Belgian Red. Oh yum. Yesterday I ate some Wisconsin cheese (I'm blanking on the name of it at the moment; maybe Sartori or something???) that was aged in the New Glarus Raspberry Tart Ale and it was delicious, but I decided today I'd rather drink my beer than eat it. Wisconsin has an amazing selection of beer that is not distributed in Minnesota, New Glarus being one. I just love it when my brothers have to drive through Wisconsin and, of course, load up the car on the way through. And to top it all off Chris gave me an early birthday present, one of my favorite movies--Danny Deck Chair! Perhaps the guilt of going to a scotch tasting sans wife and baby was eating him up a bit. And though I feel a touch lame saying it, I can't wait to curl up in bed surrounded by just-out-of-the-dryer laundry to fold, my glass of red, maybe even some ice cream later on, and my movie. Anyway, sorry this is so short, but I better get started!

frugal foodies

This week has been busy, and though we're now on spring break (thank you thank you thank you, finally!) we've still got a lot on our plates (pun intended), which is why sometimes it's just easier, and occasionally even cheaper, to eat out!

If you haven't been to McCormick and Schmick's happy hour than you have no idea how incredible a burger can be. It's not really that the burger is the best I've had, though I do love it's simplicity and the fact that it is consistently well-prepared (never a touch more than medium rare), but it's the fact that it costs the same as a bottle of pop from a vending machine that really makes it stand out. The value is incredible! It's brilliant really--the minimum drink order of $2.50 is always covered by at least one $5 beer, maybe two if the mood strikes, so the establishment certainly doesn't lose money on the deal. And boy does it draw a crowd.
On our most recent trek to the $1.95 1/2 lb. burger and fries meal we were sad to find the bar completely full. It's happened before, but with a hungry Ella in tow, waiting for the office party to clear out wasn't appealing. Luckily we didn't find ourselves waiting long because an incredibly kind and thoughtful manager took pity on us and set us up in a secret corner of the dining room. We felt like royalty. Which brought back to my memory the night of our wedding. Well, not really our wedding, just our marriage. What's the difference, you ask? Well, we had to legally get married before our wedding because of issues with Chris' visa. Marrying an immigrant is no easy task, so it's a good thing he's really cute! The night we legally got married we wanted to celebrate, but without making too big a deal. My dad had called for a reservation at McCormick and Schmick's downtown and we showed up sporting nice clothes and giant grins. The host took our name and my mother's arm before showing us to our table. He commented to her on how happy we all looked and asked if we were celebrating something. When she told him that indeed we were celebrating something quite special he acted shocked. (They probably don't get a lot of 5 member wedding parties). Then when he handed me the menu he played it so cool it took me a moment to realize that plastered across the top it said "McCormick and Schmick's would like to congratulate Chris and Emily on their wedding day, May 18th, 2005". My dad had no idea either, even though he had given them that information on the phone! Throughout the night staff members congratulated us, surprised us with special treats and drinks, and truly made the night a grand memory for us. To be honest, I rarely rave about chains, but this restaurant does what many chains fail to do--they hire and train their staff to sincerely care about the their job, and the people they serve. The staff, as far as I can tell, are taught the rules, but are also encouraged to use their own judgement, because sometimes breaking rules is better for everyone. And I promise you, we will go back!

Earlier tonight we went to the Midtown Global Market with my dad and brother Elliot. It's a fun, urban, multicultural approach to the food court. Where else can you buy a Halal lamb shank, then turn around and buy Swedish rice pudding? They often have live music, and the market happens to contain Michelle Gayer's Salty Tart, the bakery that reminds us all why we have taste buds. But tonight we were headed for La Sirena Gorda, aka. The Fat Mermaid, for seafood tacos. I say seafood, not fish, because they also offer calamari, and their specialty, octopus. The recipe, I was told, comes from Acapulco, and is called "The octopus of love". It was incredible! Tender and flavorful, I truly fell in love with it. It cost slightly more than the aforementioned happy hour burger, but it was still affordable at under $10! I love deals like that. Even though I shared some of my saffron rice, beans, and tortillas with Ella, I still feel stuffed. The only down side of the evening came when Chris started to take pictures and was quickly stopped by a security guard. Apparently they want everyone to come see it for themselves--so go!

jeans and pudding

I have a favorite pair of jeans. Most people do, right? But I’m usually more of a funky-green-chinos-that-don’t-fit-well-but-suit-my-personality kind of girl, so this may be surprising to some of you. My outrageously faddy, though not remotely fatty, brother and sister in law helped me pick them out in Australia 5 years ago. They are the softest denim ever, even straight out of the wash. They are loose through the legs, super low rise, and snug in the butt (a quality I need to look for in pants more often according to the French woman who helped me in the dressing room). “I see zee problem…you have no butt.” She said so kindly. So these jeans are perfect. Just one problem—in Australia I wasn’t working. I was cooking instead. And eating. By the end of my six month stay there I was unable to button the jeans without the risk of a hernia! I’ve had brief periods in my life since when they fit, but more when they didn’t. Of course having Ella didn’t do much for me in the snug-butt-jeans department. But miracle of miracles—they fit again! Which leads me to constantly wonder if I’ve broken a seam without realizing it and people are just too scared to point it out to me. Oh well. I warned Chris when he married me that I would probably get fat and at some point in my life never return from it. I never want to be the kind of person who plans their life around their appearance. I wouldn’t be any good at it. It’s been several years since I bought a tube of mascara, so I think I’m pretty hopeless in that department anyway. Instead I want to cook and eat what I want, stay active in ways that suit my life (which does not mean 6am body pump) and hope that the happiness radiating through me will keep me in decent enough shape that I might be able to wear those jeans at some point again. And if not, I’m okay with that too.

Here’s a favorite recipe from Australia which probably contributed to my pants-issues. I also like to make this one for friends when they’ve just had a baby and the extra calories are the last thing on their radar. The flavor is heavenly and after you eat this cake you don’t need to use chap-stick for a few days! Haagen Dazs recently came out with an ice cream flavor made after this delicious dessert and they did pretty well, but nothing beats the real thing. Dig in!

Sticky Toffee Pudding…
(sorry for the Aussie measurements, I'm just too lazy to convert right now)
cake ingredients:
170 g dates, stoned and chopped
1 t baking soda
300 ml boiling water
60 g unsalted butter
3/4 c brown sugar
2 eggs
170 g self-rising flour
1/2 t pure vanilla extract
sauce ingredients:
200 g brown sugar
1/2 c heavy cream
250 g butter
1/2 vanilla bean, split
directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F and butter an 8" square cake pan. Mix dates and baking soda, pour boiling water over mixture, and let stand.
Cream butter and sugar, then add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each. Folk flour in gently, then stir in date mixture and vanilla and pour into prepared pan. Bake for 30-40 minutes until cooked when tested with a skewer.
To make the sauce, bring all ingredients to a boil (be sure to scrape vanilla seeds into the pan and let the bean boil in there as well). Reduce heat and simmer for 5 minutes. Remove vanilla bean. Pour a little sauce over warm cake and return it to oven for 2-3 minutes so sauce soaks in. Cut cake (pudding) into squares and serve with extra sauce.
note:
I often bake the cake most of the way, pour sauce over it, then let it cool and reserve it for later. When I'm ready to serve it I just pour extra sauce over, bake it a bit more and serve with more sauce! Yumtastic!

birthday city!

Grampy, post onion rings

We've had a weekend full of birthdays here. My grandfather turned 87 on Saturday, my grandmother turned 92 today (!) and Ella is turning 1 tomorrow. We tried to get Ella to join us a little earlier so that she could have the same birthday as her great grandmother, but she wasn't having it. It's okay, it's cool that hers is unique. My grandma might even remember Ella's birthday this way too, which would be pretty special since she continually forgets my mother's. For the first several years of my mother's life she actually celebrated on her due date instead of on my mom's actual birthday. Yikes. And my mom's birthday is cool too since it's the same as Elvis', a fact she likes to boast about, though never without also pointing out that it wasn't the same year! My mom is actually far more like Priscilla than Elvis when it comes to her ageless look.

Ella and her Nanamimilalatutululunoni, and cake

My grandpa's name is Ray and my grandma's name is Mae. When they got married she apparently emphasized the words in an interesting way when she said "I, Mae, take Ray." It came out more like "I may take Ray." He especially likes to tell that story. And he loves the fact that my mother's name is Alison Mae, I am Emily Mae, and Ella is Ella Mae. It's a good thing my grandmother wasn't named something like Josephine; that would have never worked.

Birthday girl Grammy

When we asked what they wanted to do to celebrate their birthdays they said "we don't want dinner or anything fancy, just get us onion rings from our favorite restaurant!" Ella also got to dig into a carrot cake, which she liked as much for the taste as for the attention it garnered. She probably had more sugar this weekend than in the rest of her entire life! In fact, the next night when we offered her ice cream for the first time, she really wasn't interested. Instead she followed Nanamimilalatututlulunoni (or should I say Charlie) into the kitchen and asked for some cheese. I love that girl.

Ella thinks she struck gold

you can leave your hat on

Ella got a new hat and I think it's cute.

Chris also took some cute pictures of her nakedness peering over the tub before her bath, but they didn't turn out. Sorry to let you down with a great title and only fully clothed pictures.

nanamimilalatutululunoni vs. mummum

Okay, I'm a bad mother. I accidentally left "Ne-ne" at my parents house. Ella and I stopped over there this afternoon and we had Ne-ne with us (aka. Nellie), but I forgot to grab her when we left (I also almost forgot Hobart, but shhh). I think I leave something there every time we visit. Nellie is, of course, Ella's stuffed Koala (thank you Uncle Jason!). The thing she carries, calls, and cuddles day and night. I was afraid I'd have to drive her over there in her sleeper to get it or bed would be out of the picture, but clearly, as I'm now writing, I managed to get her to sleep without marsupial aide.

Ella and Nellie

And old photo of Ella and Hobart vying for Nanamimilalatutululunoni's attention, and lap space

So the other crisis is that my mother has no name. Well, actually she has a lovely name, Alison, but she can't decide on a name for Ella to call her. It's the first time in her life she gets to pick her own name and she seems to be overwhelmed by the power in her hands. Nana isn't her favorite because of the association it holds with bananas. I think they're a wonderful, versatile, and nutritious fruit, but my mom has never liked them. Argh. Mimi doesn't work because it's already been done--I think she sees it as one of those trends that she just can't support, like slap-bracelets or Rachel Ray. Lala is a personal favorite of mine, because I think it most accurately captures her personality, but she's been bullied out of that one by my dear brothers who think it makes her sound a little crazy. Tutu, ala Obama's grandmother, is a favorite of hers, but we all think that sends the wrong message to a toddler (not to mention a teenager)! The list goes on and the debate continues. We keep telling her to just pick something because Ella's starting to talk and thinks my mom is the coolest thing on earth, but doesn't know what to call her. Meanwhile, my mom thinks I'm sending "mixed messages" because I refer to myself as "Mama" while Chris calls me "Mum". He can't help it. It honestly sounds ridiculous when he tries to say "Mama". Like one of those computer voices from the 80's. So I've become "Mum-mum". I can deal with it. It's actually seriously cute. And I call my mother "Nanamimilalatutululunoni". That's a bit of a mouthful for Ella though. Chris thinks that maybe we should just call her "Charlie" and tell her she missed her chance. Any ideas?

good work mama

So things are tense at work right now. Budgets are being cut left and right and being an elementary band director, though tenured, is not the most secure position to be in. Reflecting on my life choices is only natural at a time like this, and I think especially of the advice my mother gave me...that I didn't follow. I shouldn't really call it advice though, she gave me 5 rules the men I dated had to follow, and I chose one who broke them all.

1. He must have brown eyes, since she has brown eyes and none of her four children do. She damn well deserves a brown eyed grandbaby at least!

2. He must be from Minnesota, so he'd never take me away from her. Oops, Queensland is almost Minnesota, right?

3. He must not be a musician.

4. He must not be a teacher. I majored in music education and she knew I wouldn't make a fortune out of that degree alone!

and 5. (this one's my favorite) He must have a slow metabolism, so that when I get old and fat I won't be mad at him for being able to eat as much as he wants and still stay thin.

So instead of heeding my mother's warning, I married a blue-eyed Australian saxophone player and teacher who has the metabolism of a teenager on the swim team. But underneath it all I think that my mom really wanted me to marry someone like her. Someone who thought I was a real gem. Someone who thought my choice to be a music teacher, who happened to have green eyes and a full belly, was a good thing. And I did that. I learned a lot from my mother. That's why I married Chris. Good work Mama.