Hackz0red!

So the Dotytron's credit card got hackz0red.  I manage all our finances because I'm a type A micro-managing budgeting psycho, so I was paying the bills and noticed this weird PayPal charge on his credit card.  And of COURSE I wigged out like the controlling freakazoid I am and was all like, "ummmm...what are you buying on PayPal that's not a play kitchen or clothes for the Big Yam (read: "antique milk glass plates and cutesy stuff on Etsy for me)?!?"  Then we had a message from TD Loss Prevention on home line.  So I had him call loss prevention and they're like, "this charge was made by Karl Lagerfeld on PayPal" which is weird, because his credit card isn't linked on my PayPal account and the charges weren't showing up on EITHER of our PayPal accounts.  It was annoying because the credit card company wasn't willing to refund the money and wanted us to do it on the PayPal side of things (which is stupid, since their loss prevention program was already on the case!)  So I call PayPal and talk to their fraud department and the dude is all like, "Ms. Lagerfeld, do you have a 932 area code?" Me: "no."  Then, "Ms. Lagerfeld, do you have an aol account?"  Me: "Uh...no.  Does ANYONE have an aol account any more?"  So they're going to reverse the charges.  But this is crazy for a few reasons:


1) the sophistication of the scam.  A charge made on the Dotytron's card, with MY name authorizing it.  How did that happen?
2) how insulted I was that someone thought I would have an aol email account.  What is this? 1994?  
3) this is probably an indication that I should be more circumspect about shredding stuff.  I'm always like, "oh, this credit card statement?  Booooring!  Into the recycling with you, friend!"  


In unrelated news, Purple Rain came on the radio the other day.  

My favorite part starts at the 3:30 minute mark, basically when the guitar solo kicks in and the whole tune gets launched into the slow-jam anthem stratosphere.  Singing this song and reflecting on how that anthemic-guitar-solo-accompanied-by-Prince-falsetto-hoo-hooing made me feel got me thinking about how there aren't a lot of hands-in-the-air, rock anthem slow jams.  Like, there are slow jams, but anthemic, heart-pumping slow jams?  Not as easy to pin down.  Can you think of any others?  November Rain kind of counts, but it still isn't as heart-poundingly uplifting.  November rain is a bit of a downer.  The Dotytron suggested Alone, by Heart, but again, a bit of a downer.  Let me know if you think of anything.

That being said, Alone ROCKS.  When Nancy drops to the floor on her knees and wails on the guitar in her sweeping, giant-collared, black trench coat with her magnificent heaving bosom?  Quit it!  If Heart comes back this summer, I'm so going.  When the (synthesized) drums kick in, I will without fail, do the most horrible, awkward, unintuitive and inaccurate air drum fill you have ever witnessed in your time on this earth.  And yet, I CAN'T STOP MYSELF.  

Sooooooooo...last night I was at the Eaton Centre before class returning some kiddie stuff for the Big Yam and I saw this tank top on a mannequin outside of Hot Topic and I kind of stopped dead in my tracks and I kinda sorta really really really want it.  I know.  GIANT NERDLINGER.  The thought processes are as follows:


a) how nerdlinger is it to get a Hunger Games tank top?
b) am I too old to be wearing this kind of tank top?  Note the fact that the model in the picture is probably like, 14 MAX
c) it IS pretty tasteful
d) am I too old to be setting foot in Hot Topic buying something for myself?


I feel like I need to be talked down from the ledge here, folks.  Help me help myself.


In other news, I'm still dutifully slogging my way through The Emperor of All Maladies which is that (award-winning!) biography of cancer but which is kind of mucho depressing and disheartening.  Then my Academic Book Club picked Joseph Boyden's Through Black Spruce as our next read and I'm already super-depressed.  I don't want arty-Canadian literature about First Nations people!  I want more Daughter of Smoke and Bone and I want it stat!  I know what I want, and I want it now!  


The Big Yam had his follow-up appointment with Sick Kids dentistry after Tooth-Gate-gate and his gums are healing well.  Now it's up to the pediatric dentist to monitor the situation and keep an eye on whether his bottom adult teeth grow properly and space themselves right.  Stay true, bottom adult teeth, stay true.


Fin.

For a self-professed misanthrope

...my heart feels like it's going to explode sometimes from all my love for my adorable friends.  We received our wedding invites yesterday for H & A's wedding in Cleveland and we are BEYOND pumped.  Those two are the sweetest, most adorablest, most a**-kickingly-awesome-at-making-halloween-costumes pair of doppelgangers, ever.  They're just the best of the best.  My feelings on matrimony aside, nothing warms the cold, black cockles of my heart more than seeing two best people throw their lot together in life and become even MORE best. My only gripe with them is that they insist on living in the United States, when it's so obvious that they're socialist pinkos at heart and should really be living in Canada.  Specifically, Ontario.  More geographically specifically, Toronto.  Preferably, within walking distance, but I'm willing to negotiate a bit on that.  

Then my friends R & R did this recently.  I found the article hilarious because their endearing adorableness shines through.  I can't believe we only started hanging out like, last year.  Best new friends of 2011, hands down.  Also, I can't believe that the first time we hung out socially, was at AYCE Japanese in Markham and they claimed to be lightweights.  Those two are class acts.  Like, every time you go to their house they have tonnes of beer and mutton patties on hand and homemade cookies.  When you come to **our** house, you've scarcely crossed our lil' ugmo threshold before I'm barking at you with all the finesse of a Brigitte Nielson, Eastern-Bloc Gestapo type to take off your shoes before coming in the house and then offering you a drink of either: milk, water, or apple cider that's turned to vinegar.  I will then exhort you to push aside the piles of folded socks and underwear on the couch and "make yourself at home."  I am the definition of déclassé, even though I was born with a gilt spoon in my mouth.  

Then I found out that my friend P got accepted into TUM (that's Toronto Underground Market to you) and I'm so excited for him to do well!  Having tasted his entry (butter chicken) before, I think it's well deserving of being on TUM's illustrious roster and I'm mad jelly that 500 other lucky Torontonians get to taste his wares.  Add to that this week, S (P's partner) is participating in The Artist Project and I'm beyond thrilled for the two of them individually and as a couple.  

There is so much talent, smarts, moxie, and funny in our extended crew that I'm humbled by it all.  It makes me feel like a right slouch but I'm so glad that I get to bask in their reflected glory.  

This week is madness.  After a two week hiatus, class starts on Tuesday night.  Wednesday is the Dotytron's night to do boring music stuff with other music nerds of the highest order.  Thursday is the art opening, but we might duck out.  Friday, I'm having my friend E over.  Saturday is the art show, then dinner with some Supper-Club-y crew.  Sunday is a baby shower in the 'Loo for the cutest, sweetest preggo I know, N.  I'm getting tired and overwhelmed just writing that out.


Tales of a Mama Dread - this is my new favorite Saturday afternoon, it's-too-cold-outside-to-play activity with the Big Yam: a rubbermaid tub, a le creuset pot, some water, some kitchen utensils and some blue food colouring.  Look at him in his undershirt!  He looks like a Chinese worker in Hong Kong - all he's missing is a farmer's blow into the street and a toothpick and a Marlboro.

The Big Yam chowing down on a leftover Chino Loco burrito.

Tonight's dinner was a spinach and feta brown rice casserole with panko topping.  So easy.  I've posted the recipe below.

Bit of a snoozy chapstick post.  I'm feeling kind of tired tonight - I biked to work today and I'm hoping to re-start a yoga regimen of sorts.  Har.

Fin.

---------------------------------------------------------


Spinach, Feta and Brown Rice Casserole
serves 4-6


1 T. butter
1 onion, thinly sliced
1.5 lbs of spinach, thinly sliced
minced garlic or roasted garlic
4 cups cooked brown rice
2 eggs
1 c. of yoghurt
400 g. of feta cheese
2 c. panko
canola oil


- sauté the onion, in the butter, with a tablespoon of oil until golden.  Add the garlic and the spinach in batches until it's all wilted.  Season lightly with salt and pepper.
- mix the spinach, the brown rice, 2 eggs, the yoghurt together in a large bowl.  Crumble in the feta cheese.  Season again gently with salt and pepper.
- pour into a 9x13" pan or other similar combination of casseroles and top with panko.  Drizzle panko with canola oil and bake the casserole in a 400F oven for about 30 minutes covered with a piece of foil, and then, as soon as the panko is golden brown, covered with foil until heated through.

F-F-F-Friday!

Whaaaat.  A couple of weeks ago the Dotytron decided that he wanted to get into Leonard Cohen, so he d/l a discography and put it on while we were cleaning the house.  Obviously, my opinions are my own, but guys: LEONARD COHEN IS THE WORST.  It's so...Québecois.  Like, literally accordion instrumentation, fraaanche.  Like, you can practically hear someone twirling a moustache in the background while pedaling a unicycle.  Then you have the standard Leonard Cohen droning delivery.  I think the point with ol' Lenny is that he's supposed to be a superb lyricist.  Unfortunately (for him), lyrical prowess is wasted on me.  As I said at the time, unless the lyrics are, "take rings off" or "kidnap that fool" - I stopped listening 5 seconds in.  LOL!


Not much to report.  I went on a bit of a spring work wardrobe shopping spree.  Here's what I got:

To be paired with either my black, wide-sleeved blazer or my fitted blazer or a cardigan for that oh-so-professional, "ladies that lunch" look

Because I feel that spring means that colour should be welcomed with open arms into a wardrobe.  I like this because it can be dressed up or down - I think it'll look smashing on it's own at a garden party (I think I might actually be going to one of those this year!), or with a jean jacket for an adults-only dinner out, or with a navy blazer for work.

Again, more colour.  This saucy sweater would look great with any number of bottoms - navy, white, denim, khaki, brown.  It's perfect!

Same goes for this one - I bought it because it was neutral enough to pair with a lot of different things, but I loved the pop of colour by the face, and the sweetness of the Peter Pan collar

This scandalous top is VERY sheer.  I don't know if I'll be ballsy enough to pair it with a tank top or cami underneath for work, but it will certainly be a nice weekend look.  Unless I'm too old to be wearing sheer (with a tank top underneath, people!!  I'm not a total harlot!)

Finally, a last sheer blouse - but one that's got demure enough styling to make it very work-appropriate with the proper layers underneath.  

I'm not necessarily going to keep them all, but when shopping online, I feel the safest thing to do is buy now, try later, return even later after that for full refund.  

There has been a lot made of the whole Rihanna working with Chris Brown thing in the media already.  So much so that I don't feel I have to weigh in on how ABSOLUTELY ABHORRENT it is that someone who BEAT THE CRAP out of a woman can be welcomed back into the music industry with open arms.  Haven't we learned anything from James Brown, Ike Turner, etc.?  It's sickening.  She is a HORRIBLE role model for young women, and I say that as a former Chris Brown/RiRi fan (remember the Kanye concert?  Remember how thrilled I was when mothereffin' Chris Brown surprised us by coming on stage?)  I can't believe that she would consent to work with him, professionally or otherwise.  It's not like he's the ONLY PERSON SHE CAN COLLABORATE WITH.  

Ugh.  We need a cleanse.  Here's a photo of Becks holding his daughter, Harper, dressed in a suit, looking foine:

Ummm...ARE YOU F**KING KIDDING ME?  I feel like he's a good dad and it makes him a billion times hotter.  Stop, Posh and Becks, just stop.  Posh seems like she's just the awesomest.  Designs amazing clothes, isn't afraid to mess up her greyhound body by having kids, owns who she is but doesn't coast on it.  She just seems very likeable to me.

Okay, enough celebrity ranting and raving.  I also think about serious things.  Such as how my previous post included huge spelling/sentence/grammar errors, but I'm too lazy to change it.  It's because I've been fending off the Big Yam when I'm crafting my posts at home.  He's super-into his mama right now, which of course warms the cockles of my heart and gives me ammunition in the incredibly childish comparison war of "who does the Boobla love more?" that I insist on waging with the Dotytron.  It's kind of crazy how much he understands, even though he can't express everything he wants to express.  I've got him toddling around doing all kinds of things: "go get your shoes!" "put that in the cupboard!" "go get your story!" "give baba a hug!" just to marvel at how he can FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS.  He understands me!  Yesterday I started giving him little Eskimo kisses (I know it's not PC to call them that and I acknowledge, but I don't know the suitable replacement name for rubbing your nose against another person's nose!  So sue me!)  and I called them "smushies" just once, but he instantly picked up on it.  So later that day when I said, "give mama smushies" he PRESSED HIS NOSE AGAINST MINE AND IT WAS THE CUTEST THING. GAH.  But I kinda wish I hadn't picked such a weaksauce name for them.  It's so...mawkish.  

Tonight the roomie is coming over!  Yay!  We're having my mac'n'cheese (recipe already posted before) with a mix of fontina, cheddar, and asiago.  Topped with toasted thyme panko breadcrumbs, with sautéed rapini on the side.  And a little wee devil's food cake baby cake frosted with Momofuku Milk Bar birthday cake frosting for dessert.

Fin.

Naming

The other week when we were at DonDon Izakaya, the Dotytron and I were looking at the name tags of the servers and staff and remarked (not for the first time) that we really liked the sound of Japanese names.  I like Hiro and Keiko and Misumi.  They're all so pretty sounding - with a nice balance of hard sounding consonants and flow between syllables.  Then we realized that it would be "weird" of us to name any future progeny with that name - like it's "trespassing" on another culture, when most Westernized people don't give a second thought to borrowing from traditional French or Anglo or Irish names.  It just shows the hegemony of Western values.  The divide between "us" and "Other" is still firmly entrenched and the Dotyron and I fall victim to it as much as the next person.  We aren't "authentic" enough to appropriate a Japanese name but we're fine appropriating a German one (in the case of the Big Yam's moniker).  

One of the things I realized when we were trolling through Nameberry last Friday looking for names for the roomie's kid, I realized that the act of naming is so loaded nowadays as a marker of taste and distinction (in the Bourdieu sense).  The most radical thing you could do nowadays (sorry, K!) is name your daughter Jennifer.  Everyone is going for the most "unique" names that Jennifer, Samantha, Amanda have been relegated to the bottom of the heap.  It's pretty interesting.  This coming from a gal who currently loves the name Cassius.  Love it! 

Last night we had my version of Italian wedding soup for dinner.  It was our first time making it and it was such a big hit that I've included the recipe below.  It was really easy - it sat simmering in the slow cooker all day.  It was made slightly easier by the fact that I had the foresight to freezer some leftover meatball mix in a ziploc bag in our freezer.  Taking out the step of having to make meatballs from scratch and then put them in the soup really sped things along and made it more feasible for a weeknight meal.  Since meatballs are such a great staple to have on hand (either loose, already formed, or cooked into tomato sauce), I'm going to make it a point to always make a double or even triple batch, so we have it on hand.

Tonight we had corned beef hash.  That's some good eatin' 3 nights in a row.  We had a baby shower for my friend K at work today - which means I ate about a million slices of cake.  I have negative self control.  I was going to try to go for the first run of the season tomorrow morning...and then I found out that we're supposed to have the ONLY snowstorm of winter 2012.  Boourns, nature!  Boourns!

So glad tomorrow is Friday...even though this week was a short week, it's felt long.  We're having the roomie over again tomorrow night - we're babysitting her while L'Armi is away shooting on location.

Fin.

---------------------------------------------------------

Italian Wedding Soup

serves, a million people

1 onion, chopped

3 stalks of celery chopped

3 carrots, peeled and chopped

1 zucchini, chopped

1 bunch of kale, thinly sliced

minced garlic, to taste (about 4 cloves)

1.5 L chicken stock

2 L of water

1 cup of orzo, cooked

1lb of meatball mix (recipe follows)

salt and pepper, to taste

- put all the vegetables and the stock in the slow cooker.  put the lid on and cook on low all day (we had ours on from like, 7:45am-5pm).  You could obviously also cook this in a large stockpot on the stove.  Bring to a simmer and let simmer, covered, for 2 hours.

- cook off the 1 cup of orzo, a little past al dente.  Stir into the soup.

- using teaspoon-fulls of meatball mix, roll into little balls, throw in the soup.   We then cranked our slow cooker to high and cooked the meatballs in the soup for about 30 minutes or until they were cooked through.

- season with salt and pepper and serve.  It's sooo good!

Lagerfeld's Go-To Meatballs

1lb each ground veal, ground beef, or ground pork (or any combo of the three, or just one type of meat)

3 slices of white bread, crusts removed, torn into small pieces and soaked in milk

1/2 c. grated parm

2 eggs

salt and pepper to taste

- put the meat into a bowl.

- squeeze handfuls of the torn bread to get rid of excess milk.  Add the soft bread to the meat mixture.  Add the rest of the ingredients and toss the mixture together until it's just combined (try not to overwork the meat!)

- form into balls and freeze.  Or freeze the mixture as is.  Or form into balls and sear off to put in sauce, etc.

Feelings

Here's a tip for ya: people interviewing you for a job never want to hear about your feelings. 


Ha!  I went for a job interview last week, which is kind of remarkable considering I was still in the throes of post-traumatic stress.  But it was a hard-won interview and even though I love love love love love my job, I'm the kind of sicko who like Lisa Simpson, likes being graded and tested and so I go on job interviews (there are fewer and fewer opportunities for assessment as you get older).  Maybe it's because I miss the rush and pressure of the restaurant biz.  Who knows?  Either way, going on job interviews is good experience - it's a good fact-finding expedition, it forces you to keep your resume and cover letter current, it's good to find out how you stack up in the marketplace, and it allows you to brush up on your interviewing skills, which are good skills to have.  They're also the skills most likely to languish forgotten in the dusty recesses of your brain.


Now I did my due diligence.  I studied up on the organization's strategic priorities, did a thorough search, read the annual report, polled people to find out what their experiences had been interviewing for similar positions and practiced answers to the questions they had been asked.  Unfortunately, everything I studied - they didn't ask me about.  And instead they focused on very concrete, job-based experiences that I hadn't studied up on, and since I don't currently have that professional experience, I had nothing to draw from.  So...I ended up starting a lot of sentences with: "I feel" which is THE WORST.  I had that out-of-body experience where you can hear yourself digging an ever-deeper hole and yet you CAN'T STOP YOURSELF FROM RAMBLING ABOUT HOW YOU "FEEL" ABOUT THE SITUATION.  Worst!  "I really feel like I'd be good for the job because of x, y, z" is a horrible spot to be in.  They don't care how you feel!  People FEEL a lot of things that aren't germane!  Basically, I bombed.  Ah well.  Live and learn.  Now I know what to do next time.


The interview was epic.  2 hours long.  45 minutes to prepare a written component and then 15 minutes to study up on the interview questions before they brought you before the panel for an oral presentation of the written component and THEN the interview began.  Yikes.


Needless to say, by the time Friday rolled around I was ready to partay.  We had the roomie and L'Armi over on Friday night for some fun ice cream and cupcake eatin' and talking late into the night.  We're trying to name their baby.  It's tough.  L'Armi loves patrician sounding "family" names and the roomie likes names like "Moonbeam."  Not quite that bad, but pretty close.  It's hard trying to find a middle ground.


Sometimes it bears repeating: I am a lucky button with wonderful, smart, funny people in my life.  This weekend bore testament to that.


Saturday we chilled and did house stuff and then had dinner at J & S's house.  She made this awesome short rib-pinto bean thing and coleslaw and I made deviled eggs and mini chocolate pudding pies and she made this banana cake with cream cheese frosting.  My favorite part of the night was playing with their daughter, L.  We were peering our their window, with our heads under the shade looking for "night penguins" and then the Big Yam toddled up in his jammies and stood watch next to us and I thought my heart was going to explode.  So best!


Then we hustled home to welcome SMckay for a sleepover!!!  I LOVE SLEEPOVERS!!!  I really, really, really do.  Not for me the sanctity of the insular nuclear family.  I would still have roommates if I could live in a house big enough to afford each family their own privacy but still allowed us to lounge around together in our pjs and eat meals together.  I just like it. It's just my style.  Maybe because I don't edit myself?  That makes it easier.  I'm willing to always let it all hang out - friends or family bearing witness to the domestic strife be damned.  That's just the way it goes, naw mean?


Anyway, hanging with SMckay was obviously the bestest.  We were talking about online dating and looking up this one site that I had read was where all the hipsters go to hook up and the Dotytron made me howl, because he woke up from his slumber on the couch to inquire, "What's going on?  Are you talking about MASH?  Are we doing MASH?"  LOL!  It just makes me laugh how he was suddenly an expert at MASH and totally wanted in (that's Mansion-Apartment-Shack-House to you).  


The next morning we took SMckay to Bonjour Brioche where we ordered a giant breakfast and then went to Lolly's to help her paint her new adorable cute house.  We painted a good chunk of the day and then broke to head to Lil' Ugmo for a post-painting takeout/Family Day hangs session.  First SMckay made us stop at Sherway to go to MAC.  It was crazy so we were circling around FOREVER trying to find a parking spot.  We saw a guy standing next to a car with his back to us, so we're like, "Sweet! Is he leaving?" only to realize that he was PEEING IN THE MALL PARKING LOT.  WHAT. THE. HELL.  Who does that?!???  We all screamed and drove away so fast, completely traumatized.  


We got Chino Loco's for dinner and then basically goofed around creeping on online dating sites and profiles and had the best time ever. I laughed so hard my tummy hurt.  The Dotytron was killing me.  We were all basically group-writing messages to various suitors.  One of them messaged us accusing us (rightly) of "creeping" on his site.  To which the Dotytron had us type back: "Who is the creep?  The creep or the creep who creeps the creep?"  There was a bit more back and forth and then we were left with the task of writing a closing message to this one guy who was a bit of a dummy dud, but a nice one.  The Dotytron's suggestion?  "One last creep.  Goodnight, sweet prince."  AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA!!!!!!!  GOODNIGHT, SWEET PRINCE!???!!!???  I'm STILL laughing out loud about that, 2 days later.  


Monday we went to hang out with my fam-bam cuz my sis was in town with all the cousins.  She and I took the kids swimming and as we were entering the community centre, we turned around to hurry the kids and were stopped short by the overwhelming cuteness that was Miss Ramona holding the Big Yam's one hand, Little Ze holding his other hand, and also Little Big Cuz.  The four of them holding hands and walking was the CUTEST. THING. EVER.  I basically died inside.  We had dim sum lunch and then Phoenix for dinner.

The Big Yam's first dance with whipped cream straight off the beater

The Big Yam and Little Big Cuz swarming me when I pulled out a banana.  They're like banana zombies.  Instantly drop whatever they're doing and stumble over.

So in short: I basically had the awesomest Family Day weekend ever.  We had big friend laughs and love, big family laughs and love.  What more could you want?  


Today was pancake Tuesday so for dinner we had blueberry buttermilk pancakes, bacon, and a fat baby with bourbon caramel sauce and ice cream for dessert.  


Fin.

WE ONLY HAVE 6 HOT DOGS!

In the ongoing chronicles of me being a psycho - I shouted "We only have 6 hot dogs!" at the roomie as she was exiting our car today, after we had arranged tentative plans that she was going to meet up with us again later tonight.  She had just said, "don't worry about saving me dinner, if you want to eat without me, that's fine," and me, in a panic that we only had one package of Shopsy's all beef hot dogs, made sure to tell one of my oldest friends who just happens to be 5 months pregnant that we only had 6 hot dogs.  The implication being, obviously, that there wouldn't be enough for her, our guest.  The Dotytron gave me one of his patented head shake/incredulous resignation expressions that he reserves expressly for when I'm being a psycho.  "You're only saying that because you know you're going to eat 5 hot dogs." Sigh.  He knows me so well.  What is WRONG with me?  Why can't I eat less than 4 hot dogs, ever?  Why am I a hot dog hoarder?  No one knows.


The Dotytron had the day off so we went to Kensingston Market with the roomie who is on her month-long vacation month.  We picked up yerba mate and then ate a tonne of Chilean empanadas and pulled pork on plantain goodies at Segovia.  So good!  I checked out the menu at Agave Y Aguacate (the spot that totally exploded in Kensington last spring)...but we weren't feeling it.  The stuff is kind of expensive and the menu didn't sound too appetizing.  We also got churros, of course.  Just practicing leading up to Fat Tuesday.


In amid all the personal and professional craziness this week, the much-hyped Drummond Report (aka The Commission on the Reform of Ontario's Public Service) dropped on Wednesday.  It was kind of a big deal.  I haven't had a chance to read through the whole thing yet (it's like 500+ pages), but it's the most comprehensive review of the OPS in recent memory, with an eye to finding cost-saving measures so that we can accelerate the elimination of the deficit.  The spectacle surrounding the Drummond Report has been kind of buck and leading up to its release, the fear over the types of austerity recommendations it would contain served to paralyze the workings of the province.  It was pretty fascinating.  I haven't really thought through the political strategy behind commissioning such a sweeping audit, but on a gut level, I think it was pretty brilliant.  


Tonight we're doing Friday Night Junkfood night - which is being expressed in the form of the aforementioned hot dogs, Kraft Dinner, and Bobette and Belle cupcakes with movies and knitting.  Yay Friday!


Fin.

DonDon Izakaya

Before everything went to hell in a hand basket this week, the Dotytron and I took advantage of some Momma D babysitting service and went out for dinner.  We took one for the team and tried the new izakaya that had opened up on Dundas, DonDon Izakaya.  We went in knowing it was a risk, given that Guu not only has the izakaya district of our hearts cornered, but is also pretty much our favorite restaurant, regardless of cuisine, in Toronto.  

Reviews on Yelp had been mixed.  I was heartened by the fact that the place was crawling with Asians (I almost always trust an Asian person's opinion of food over almost every other ethnicity - in Toronto, a place filled with young Asian couples and groups of Asian friends is a good sign indeed), but as it turns out, that hope was misplaced.  

The space is nice enough.  The staff, all of whom seemed to be Japanese, are like, the younger, less hot, less cool cousins of the Guu staff.  Part of the joy of going to Guu is ogling the Japanese eye candy (see previous posts re: my Guu boyfriend).  The crew at DonDon are not ogle-worthy.  Awwww...poor guys.  Now I feel bad for saying it.  The atmosphere is considerably less raucous than at Guu - the servers still shout at you but the vibe of the room is just...off.  No one is giving themselves over to the experience...it was like a concert where everyone is one their phones or sitting their butts in the seats and not engaging with the act.

Overall, the menu featured way less stuff we wanted to eat, and the dishes we ordered were mostly okay, with only one standout item.  The food was missing the love and the care.  

 Tako wasabi is one of our favorite dishes at Guu, where finely chopped raw octopus is mixed with wasabi and served with little sheets of nori for turning into spicy raw octopus seaweed cigarellos.  Here the tako wasabi was cut a little too big and served a little too warm.  

This was egg salad mixed with raw salmon, stuffed into a smoked egg.  It was a nice little bite, but it had been prepared way in advance and the bacon chip was cold.  Cold bacon is never appealing.  I feel like if you ordered something similar at Guu, it would have been made a la minute.  

This dish was the ONE knockout.  "Black Croquettes" - little creamy potato cod fingers coated in squid-ink panko and fried.  So good!  The insides were fluffy and light and creamy.  This was so good we ordered another round.  

They kind of do a Japadog type fusion hot dog thing.  This was a pork wiener (with a very unpleasant, mushy texture) topped with a cold kimchi-based relish.  I think if everything had been warm, this would have been better.  As it stood, the vinegariness of the kimchi and the competing temperatures didn't coalesce into a proper fusion dish.

This was advertised as a pork belly bun - a la Momofuku.  It wasn't pork belly, the bun was a little soggy from oversteaming and then sitting.  If it had been pork belly and the bun was piping hot, this would have been a good dish.  As is...it was meh.

This was chicken and mashed potatoes and bonito flakes.  Another dish that had a good underlying concept that was undone by the shoddy execution.  The chicken was a little flabby, but the mashed potatoes were divine (I suspect they were instant).

A teriyaki hot dog.  Here the hot dog was all beef and had a better texture, but it was still overwhelmed by the lack of subtlety in the teriyaki toppings.

Ahhhhhh...hamachi sashimi.  Impossible to eff up.  Impossible not to enjoy.  Why isn't there funding going to making sure that yellowtail can be farmed?  Huh?  What's up with that?!?   If we can invest billions into oil sands, then surely, hamachi farming should be equally prioritized.

Kushiyaki (stuff on sticks!) Bacon wrapped asparagus, bacon wrapped oyster mushrooms, grilled quail eggs, chicken, and gizzards.  I prefer my kushiyaki with just a sprinkling of salt.  So good.  This dish had a really nice, smoky flavour that enhanced the fattier items (like the bacon stuff).

This was supposed to be sashimi that was lightly grilled over a hay fire.  This was awful.  Here you have butterfish and tuna sashimi that was RUINED by the greasy flavour of the smoke.  It tasted the way burning butane smells.  If any of you have a grill, and have ever oiled the piece of food you want to grill and then had the oil burn over the hot heat and leave a greasy, blackened slick of burnt oil film on the food - that's what was on these beautiful pieces of fish.  We couldn't even choke this dish down.  It was sad.

Soy tofu.  Silky, custardy, served with a seasoned soy.  I prefer this dish warm.

Dessert was a nicely executed creme caramel for me and a matcha red bean thing for the Dotytron.


At one point, we saw the owner talking to another dude, and I turned to the Dotytron and asked, "do you know what language they're speaking?" He listened intently for a minute and then turned to me and shook his head.  That's right.  The owners of DonDon are CHINESE PEOPLE (they were speaking Cantonese).  This is a classic case of Chinese people ripping off and trying to cash in on a successful business model.  Sometimes, this works.  Like, say, in AYCE restaurants.  In this case, the attempt to replicate Guu but cut corners failed.  


In the end, I'm glad I took one for the team.  Technically, the "team" in question consists of MHui and her hubby, whose unbridled enthusiasm for Guu matches ours.  At least we can relegate this place to the "never again" pile.  


Sigh.  There's nothing I can do...I only want to eat at Guu (sung to the tune of Hootie and the Blowfish.)


Fin.

Sick Kids

I hope that you all never have occasion to visit Sick Kids hospital, but if you do, know that it is a place that brings you to your knees with awe.  


Monday morning, 7am, the Big Yam fell down the stairs of our house.  The entire flight.  All 14 steps.  It was my fault.  I thought the gate was closed.  I thought the gate was closed.  That thought haunts me.  I could have sworn the gate was closed.  The sound of the thump that sent me running out of his room and the sight of his little body, face down and splayed out on the floor haunts me.  I was in the middle of getting the Big Yam ready for the day.  I went to pee, and I know the gate was closed then because he stood at the gate and watched me pee, and then proceeded to pee on the floor.  I went and cleaned up his pee, and I could have sworn the gate was closed at that point, too.  I got him dressed and I was grabbing his socks from his room when I heard that sound and even worse, that awful, drawn-out silence that followed it.  


I ran downstairs and gathered him up and saw that his bottom three teeth were at a right angle and he was gushing blood and screaming and it was a freakin' s**tshow of epic proportions.  There are no words.  I called my neighbours to figure out where to go and then called Momma D and she came right away and we drove to Sick Kids Emergency, the Big Yam wailing all the while, though eventually settling down when I sang him songs in the car, even with the effin' massacre in his mouth.  


Here's the thing about being a parent.  YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO BE AFRAID OF. I saw his teeth and I was freaking out.  When we got to Sick Kids Emergency, they asked me a barrage of questions - how many steps, are they carpeted, what did he land on, did he scream right away (concussion check), could he move his head (concussion check), any vomiting, odd behaviour, were his legs and arms bent at a weird angle.  I didn't even THINK to check that stuff.  I picked him up like an idiot, when he could have hurt his neck or spine or any of that other stuff I didn't know about but actually learned when I did my CPR training.


They put a neck brace on him even though the preliminary check seemed fine.  Then it was a matter of me trying to soothe him enough so he would be still for the CT scan.  I tried for an hour but he was getting scared and I'm sure his teef were hurting like whoa and he wouldn't settle, so then it was a whole debate between the anesthetist and the trauma surgeon about weighing the pros and cons of putting him under for a CT scan when it was unlikely (based on the preliminary evidence) that he had any spine/head fractures/issues.  Complicating things was the fact that he had eaten breakfast this morning, leading to the risk of pulmonary aspiration (what I learned - chemically induced unconsciousness leads to disabling of the natural block in the esophagus that prevents contents of the stomach entering the lungs).  So there was a big argument between anesthetist and trauma doc that I unfortunately overheard.  The end result after a consult with neurology and dentist was that he was going to be put under.  So they let me into the room with him to help him calm down before he went under and then they kicked me out so I wouldn't see him getting intubated.  Poor little guy.  He went under so quick. 


The entire surgery lasted about 30 minutes.  They pulled his 4 bottom teeth out.  I signed the consent forms after the fact because it all happened while he was out.  Then the Dotytron showed up and we were there when he woke up.  They wanted us to stay overnight so we were moved into the day patient room which is a bit of a misnomer because the other 3 patients in the room had been there for a few days, most of them waiting to be transferred to a private room.  I stayed with him through the night and the Dotytron went home at 9pm to get some rest because his concert band is competing today in the Ontario Band Association thingamajig.  The trauma doctor I spoke to last night said that he could have discharged us, but due to the height of the fall and the facial impact on the poor Boobla, he preferred one night just to watch and make sure that no concussion symptoms occurred after the fact.  As he put it, he would have preferred that the Big Yam have a seizure at the hospital than with us at home (my preference too.)  


We got discharged this morning.  It was a long night.  It's crazy how still hospitals become at night - how unearthly and alone you as the visitor seem to be, haunting the deserted halls, even though you're sharing your vigil with everyone else keeping watch over their loved ones.  


I can't say enough good things about Sick Kids.  Every staff member we met was phenomenal - kind, competent, warm, loving.  Great bedside manners.  It is an exemplar of how our health care system should work.  They were obviously in a hurry to discharge us, seeing as how we were occupying a bed unnecessarily.  I kept marveling at the miracles and the work being performed at that place.  Each section of each floor has a a well appointed playroom for the kids, there's a library, a school, research facilities.  Thinking about the amount of money that keeps that place running is mind boggling - the army of nurses, RNs, nurse practitioners, nutritionists, family counselors and the doctors in each section of each floor.  


I came away thinking of how lucky we are and how ludicrous this whole parenting venture is.  It's like the ultimate Ponzi scheme.  You get sucked in not knowing how much you owe.  There were people in the neurology, neuroscience, and trauma wing who had been coming to Sick Kids for years and years  - who had effectively grown up there.  There were kids there with undiagnosed neurological issues - countless things that you have no idea to be afraid of when you decide frivolously to have a child.  


I came away from my 3am haunting of the Sick Kids halls completely humbled by humans and our ludicrous coping capabilities, our resiliency, our strength, and how low we can be pulled.  The work that's done in that building is inspiring and I'm not just talking about the work of the doctors, researchers, and residents.  The love that parents can have for their children and the ability of children to adapt and be kids regardless of situation is staggering - another example of the sublime.  


My sis says I dodged a bullet and I am inclined to agree.  I'm so grateful that my Boobla is okay, for the most part, unscathed except for the loss of his baby teeth and his newfound thirst for lemon flavoured Jell-O.  We have to see a pediatric dentist to see what the long term ramifications are for a kid to lose their baby teeth so young.  If it's only cosmetic, as I suspect it might be, I'm not that fussed about it.  I couldn't believe that through it all - he still wanted me - he still wanted to be carried and kissed by his mama.  Especially since I did it to him.  I feel like he's Rihanna and I'm Chris Brown or something.  I kept expecting to the Sick Kids people to call CAS on me - hell, I'm on the brink of turning myself in.  My sis thinks I'm taking it harder because I am so controlling and have such high expectations that this slip up is harder for me to take.  That might be part of it.  Feeling like a bad, negligent mum is another huge part of it.  Knowing that I hurt the little fatburger and ruined his fatburger mug is another huge part of it.  I won't be able to hear him crunching into an apple again for a long time.  The inside of his mouth looks like the human centipede and that's my fault.  

This is what he looked like sleeping in the prison-crib at the hospital.  They taped this foam block to his hand to keep all the IVs in - in case they had to give him medicine or something later.  Awwww...poor little block hand.


I took the rest of the week off of work to spoil the Big Yam rotten and cover his human centipede mouth with kisses.


Fin.

BLW addendum

I keep feeling like I neglected to add something in my BLW rundown...but I can't remember what it is.  Ultimately, as with everything in life, you gotta do what's right for you.  Did I follow strict BLW procedures?  No.  But how you interpret parenting styles/methods is also up to you.  I know people who implemented BLW but would make individual turkey-quinoa patties for their kids to eat and then hover over the baby while they were eating, and then end up eating their own (different) dinner later.  To me, that kind of defeats the whole simplicity of the BLW system.  What I liked best was not having to make a separate meal for myself and for the Boobla.  I also know parents who have 2 year old kids and still cut up everything into teensy weensy little bites for them cuz they're so afeared of choking.  Again, if that's what floats your boat, go on ahead.  You're talking to the lady who put a bumper on her crib from birth because it tied the room together.  I clearly don't have all the answers.


I'm a pretty devil-may-care parent.  I'm not over-protective, I'm not generally a hoverer (this will come later, when my kid develops guile - I'm DEFINITELY a check-your-browser-history type of parent), I let my kid fall down and I don't rush to make sure he's okay.  It's just not my thing.  A lot of it is ignorance - ie. I didn't know you're supposed to have a helmet on a kid when he's tobogganing - and some of it is just me using my own internal common-sense-o-meter.


Par example: I gave the Big Yam peanut butter at 6 or 7 months.  We don't have any allergies in my family, the Dotytron doesn't, and I followed a tip from my neighbour where I rubbed some on his arm, then on his lip, to see if he hived up.  He didn't, so he's been yamming p.b. ever since.  I also gave him whole eggs - I didn't really get what the egg embargo was about anyway.  I think the conventional wisdom is yolks only, but then Poh Poh told me that the Chinese way was whites only, so then I split the difference and gave him the whole egg around 7 months.  He ate meat pretty much as soon as BLW was underway, he eats seafood and shellfish, he eats spicy food - it's all a go.  The only thing I'm a maniac about is sweets.  So he doesn't get juice, or syrup on his pancakes, or ice cream, or chocolate, and never sweet treats or prepared snacks.  I keep some disgusting spelt Cheerio-type things around the house and he gets those, and the odd Mum Mum, but otherwise, I don't let him have any processed food.  Sometimes I feel bad for the kid, cuz I think he must be wondering what's that EXTRA stuff we put on our pancakes and french toast, but then I get over it.  He has a lifetime of desserts in front of him.  He's had the odd taste here and there, but that's about it.


I keep thinking that I should put photos of the Big Yam's room up on OhDeeOh or something.  Only because I think I did a good job with his room and it's all tied together.  Maybe I will someday.  I have some fantastic nursery ideas for the next one (if there is another bambino in our future.)  I think part of my drive to have kids is for the decor purposes.  I'm a strange one, admittedly.


Today is my day off.  I wanted to keep the Big Yam home with me but I had too much shiz to do.  A lot of school and prep and getting the house ready for the focus group I'm hosting tonight.  I know, it sounds all weird and Tupperware party but it's considerably more benign.  My friend J is writing another book on foodies and asked me if I wanted to host a focus group for some of my foodie friends.  This post-doc is administering it and will bring snacks.  Host gets a $50 g/c to Loblaws and participants get a $25.  At the time,  I didn't know how bucksauce my life was going to be so I went with it.  I'm treating it very much like a focus group.  Like, even though my friends are coming over, I'm not hosting per se.  I'm definitely kicking everyone out by like, 10pm, because a) we want to take the Big Yam swimming tomorrow; and b) we're both exhausted from Ehmdo's show the night before.


The show was fantastic!  I haven't been to Lee's in a long time.  Predictably, I'm not used to going out to hear someone singing pop numbers.  If there isn't a driving bassline or if it's not like, Heart or Prince, it's not really my bag per se.  But my outlaw sis has a fantastic, expressive voice and a gift for writing catchy pop tunes and it was so nice to see her getting the support she deserved for the work she's put into this new album.  We left at around 11:45 to relieve the poor roomie, who was kind enough to babysit for us.  Yes, we got a preggo to do our babysitting for us.  I love the roomie.  


Tonight for dinner, we veered off Friday Night Takeout Night austerity measures and splurged on FOOTLONG PANZEROTTOES and FRIED CHICKEN.  That's right.  AND. FRIED. CHICKEN. Sick.  I also made this cornflake crunch cookie recipe (haven't baked the cookies off yet) from the Momofuku Milk Bar cookbook.  Cornflake crunch is THE BEST!  It smells like heaven when you're toasting it.  It's crushed up cornflakes, milk powder, sugar, and salt bound with some melted butter and it is insanely delicious, eaten straight up, or lending texture and salty-sweetness to a trashy cookie like this one:


Tomorrow is a big day.  Swimming, dim sum lunch with my fam bam in Markham, then back downtown for a bit of a date night for me and the Dotytron - we're going to try this new izakaya, called DonDon Izakaya and then we're going to my Discerning Coyote friend's birthday jam.  We hope to be home by like, 10pm.


Fin.