Pass the Pie

Here's what I'm not going to do today: get on the scale. Nothing profitable can come from knowing the truth.

Yesterday I was singing a little song. It went something like this:

"I'm so tubby, tubby, tubby, tubby. All I do is eat. Tubby, tubby, tubby".

It was sung to a light and trilly tune.

Thursday it was turkey and carbs.

Friday it was cocktail treats at Stina's 40th birthday party.

Saturday it was a "traditional" Seattle meal of salmon with hollandaise, chanterelles sauteed with garlic, butter and sherry, roasted golden beets diced and served on a pool of balsamic vinegar reduction, steamed broccolini and cheese tortellini in cream sauce with salmon roe.

Last night we had an amazing Tex-Mex dinner lovingly prepared by Buck: the world's most amazing flank steak fajitas, refried beans (from scratch), Spanish rice and a fresh salsa plus guacamole.

And every meal was capped off with Sortilege, that fabulous whiskey/maple syrup cordial we first enjoyed in Chicago.

Know what's on the menu for this week? Leftovers.

Our time with Buck has been just lovely. He got a little tour of Seattle on Saturday and met some of our friends. I feel a little bad about the fact that the tours haven't been more grand and that what we've mostly done is cook and eat but he doesn't seem to mind. He got to go to mass at the Cathedral yesterday; it was the feast of Christ the King, the last big blow out of ordinary time before Advent begins. It was grand, although the fact is, the liturgy at the Cathedral is always grand. It was nice to see his reaction, though. Reminds me of what a gift it is to go to a church that does liturgy so beautifully.

We have also played multiple games of speed Scrabble. Our minds were kept sharp and lean even as our bodies were being transformed into dumplings.

Things are slowly returning to normal. The Child is off at school, The Spouse at work and Buck and I will just be hanging around talking (and yeah, probably eating something) before I have to take him to the airport this afternoon. The Child has been sleeping on the couch for 4 days and this morning I asked her if it will be nice to have her bed back. She shook her head "no".

"You like sleeping on the couch?"

Again, the head bobs with a "no".

"You're going to miss Uncle Buck, aren't you?"

"Yes".

Awww. It's nice when friends become family.

I'll post some pictures as soon as the camera battery charges up.

I'm So Predictable

I am also still full. Has anyone else noticed that a traditional Thanksgiving dinner is basically a big plate of carbs? I should probably go out into this very frosty and cold Friday morning and walk 5 miles, just to return some semblance of feeling to my gastronomical parts.

But I probably won't.

Besides, The Child and I have to teach Uncle Buck how to play speed Scrabble.

See you on Monday. Enjoy those leftovers.



The Cranberries "Dreams"

Near Death by Lumpia

I had a Parent Association Board meeting yesterday afternoon. It was a perfectly pleasant and productive meeting but it nearly killed me.

The couple that hosted the meeting are Filipinos. I don't know how many of you have the joy and privilege of knowing people from the Philippines but I know a lot of them. The Child's school is about 75% Filipino families and there's a sizable population of same at our church. Some of my best friends, as the saying goes, are Filipino (or filipina, depending). One of the marks of this particular culture, oh joy, is food. That is to be expected, of course. But it isn't just the preparation and serving of cultural delicacies like lumpia (skinny, little spring roll guys) and almond jell-o (trust me...yum). For Filipinos, feeding people is loving people. It's what you do. There is a crazy generosity to their feeding. Many is the time I have stood with my friend Stina in her kitchen before a party, looking at a table so crowded with food that you can't see the table cloth and she'll shake her head and say, "Do you think we have enough?"

Right. So I arrive at the party meeting yesterday. Alex is taking BBQ meatballs out of the oven. Monica is working on strawberry shortcake. She's already laid out the almond jell-o, little squares of white almondy bliss stirred up with tiny little bits of kiwi, mango and strawberry. There's fried chicken, a giant platter of lumpia (with 2 dipping sauces), puff pastry rounds stuffed variously with tomato and cheese or artichoke and cheese, chips, 2 kinds of wine.

And that's just what they provided. It was a potluck. Talk about carrying coals to Newcastle. I swear, the next time I'm invited to a Filipino potluck I'm bringing antacids.

We're waiting on some folks so we decide to start eating. I sampled one of the pastry guys and a little smidge of the pasta and pea salad I had foolishly brought. There was some Caesar salad but I opted for the almond jell-o stuff. (Mon says she'll score me some next time she's out...I've never seen it but with the plethora of Asian markets in town it's not a rare commodity). I had a couple of lumpia because, hello, they were there and I have never ever been known to pass up crisp deep-fried nuggets of joy. Especially when my favorite sweet chili dipping sauce is in abundance. I had some of the meatballs...tender, melting, the sweet and tangy BBQ sauce enrobing them with a glistening uh, robe. I had some white wine...it was a hot day.

My plate wasn't stacked. I was being selective, judicious. Prudent. I had a couple more lumpia. Because they were there.

And then we had the meeting. As we sat and discussed and planned and laughed, I began to undergo a change. The comfortable fullness that had been created by my flavorful and oh so carefully chosen lunch began to grow into something else all together. I found myself thankful that I'd worn my kicky top with its tummy hiding abilities. Then I realized that my skirt, which had hung quite nicely when I donned it, was becoming uncomfortably tight.

I left the meeting early.

I told The Spouse that under no circumstances was I cooking dinner.

I drank nothing but water and peppermint tea for 4 hours.

It is my sense that my stomach has returned to its natural, intended size but I don't expect to be hungry again for many hours to come. If it weren't for the fact that I have a date with a wizard today I would check myself into a spa. Pass the celery.