Snooziest of snoozies

The Dotytron and I are still battling the cold of doom so it's been a boring few days.  I basically spend my days in a fog of cotton-ball-brain (I seriously had to place FOUR follow-up calls to a client to negotiate their request because I was too mind-fuzzy to figure it out and ask the right questions the first three times) experiencing chills at work, then I stumble home, get it together enough to be able to play with the Big Yam (who has been absolutely lovely these past few nights) and then pass out at 9pm.  All I want to do is sleeeeeeeep.  I also want to be in top form for NYC.  Which means top form for Uniqlo!  And Shake Shack!  And BBQ!  And buying cool clothes for the Big Yam!  And the Cindy Sherman exhibit at MOMA!  And visiting with Pingy & A and my cook-friends!


I'm having issues finding summer footwear for the Big Yam's cabbage roll feet.  For some reason, mainstream kids shoe designers think it's okay to make little kids wear ugly, tourista dad sandals.  It's the worst!  Look at these things:

BRAF!  As I said on FB, I didn't go to the trouble of having a mixed-race kid in a vibrant multi-cultural urban metropolis to have him prancing around looking like that little brat above.  Gross!  And my other options?  Forget it:

FRAB!  Seriously?!?  How is that even a shoe that anyone would want to put on?  BTW, Geox sandals (the brand pictured immediately above) cost SIXTY DOLLARS.  Soooo uggie!  I find them offensive on so many levels.  

The thing is, I know like, Kanye has a source but I'm not gonna spend $250 on BAPE shoes for my kid.  There's like, no middle ground of affordable yet stylish sandals for boy toddlers that will not make me want to beat them up but will still mitigate the summer stink foot factor.  I guess my only choice are like, Crocs.  Which is muy depressing.

These are the only dece ones I've been able to find, and they don't have 'em in the Big Yam's size:

Maybe the problem presents a paradox.  You can't dress your kid cool AND still have him wear sandals.  Does 'Ye wear sandals?  Probably not.  Does like, Kid Cudi wear sandals?  No.  So it's an irreconcilable difference.  You know what brother does wear sandals?  The black guy from Hootie and the Blowfish, that's who.  And we all know what an outlier he is.  

In the end, I might just have to sooth my aggrieved footwear aesthetic with a pair (or two) of Creative Recreation high tops for the little lad (which cost $30, by the way, make sense of THAT.)  

I've gotten to a depressing part in my cancer biography (yes, there are parts of it that are more depressing than others) and so I'm injecting a little levity into my life with some comics reading.  I'm midway through Adrien Tomine's Scenes from an Impending Marriage and it is precisely the antidote to beautifully-written-but-unencouraging-treatises-on-cancer-mortality-and-the-politicization-of-cancer-treatment-and-research.  

Tonight we repurposed leftover chilaquiles mix and leftover (frozen) carnitas and merged them into one, unholy and delicious tostada.  Topped with the de rigeur sour cream, avocado, scallions, etc.  

Tonight was also my second night in a row of doing yoga.  I'm not gonna say that I've basically transformed my body, except I just did.

Fin.

Autism Inventory & Other Weekend Activities

NBD, we only had the BUSIEST WEEKEND EVER!  Holy carp!  This weekend was intensity in ten cities.  Friday night the Dotytron had a Doty sibling special dinner with Ehmdo and I had my friend E over.  I made us chilaquiles with black beans and hominy topped with tostadas, sour cream, scallions, chopped salted avocado mixed with lemon (I was out of lime) and there's a fried egg (or two) hiding under there as well.  I really, truly, love chilaquiles.  And I really, truly really like new friend E who is not only a crack dodgeball player, but a crafter, an eater, and a stylish lady who knows a lot about environmental toxins and is doing good things with her life, unlike a certain buckshot shorty.

Mama Dread strikes again.  New weekend activity - the bin of beans.  I picked this up from some Montessori parenting blog.  Ideally, there should be a LOT more beans in there...I'm going to go to the bulk barn sometime and get more.  The beans can be reused, which is nice and he had a grand, grand time picking them up, scooping them with the cottage cheese container, letting them run through the funnel, sifting his fingers through them, and piling them on his fat feetsies.  It's a pretty good activity and pretty clean, as far as kid's activities go.  You can just vacuum/sweep up the errant beans that get dumped outside the container and there you go:

Saturday we woke up EXHAUSTED because the whole family has a cold and the Big Yam opted to wake up at 5am.  So we were grumps.  R & R came over in the afternoon and brought us tonnes of mutton-based delights from Babu, which were delicious, my favorite being the mutton roll, which is their mutton, rolled up into a chubby log that is breaded and deep-fried.  Of course, the Big Yam, being the little Tamil tiger that he is, ate a million samosas and mutton rotis and rolls, even though they were pretty incendiary.  I don't know where he comes from sometimes.  He LOVES Indian/Sri Lankan food.   Then we posse'd up and headed to The Artist Project, to check out independent, unrepresented artists and support our dear, dear friend S, who was the winner of the Un-Tapped artist competition and exhibited her beautiful, ethereal loom panels:

Then we went back to our house with R & R and ate a million Turkish pizzas (pides) and I made us churros and these chocolate budinos with a salted caramel (which broke down and got runny!  BOOOO!), topped with whipped cream, and Momofuku milk bar chocolate crumbs.  Once I dial in the dessert (reduce the sugar, use a salted caramel that's more stable and firm), this dessert will be a winner.  Thick, rich, creamy, cold with texture from the crumbs and a nice balance of sweet and salt:

Then we took the autism spectrum inventory, which was hilarious and fun (it's especially fun to do it in front of your partner, as it's a self-assessment and lead to some spirited back and forth between me and the Dotytron).  We're not on the spectrum.  I scored in the slightly high range for a female and the Dotytron was in the normal range for a male.  Some of the questions are hilarious, though.  The Dotytron isn't detailed-oriented enough to be on the spectrum.  LOL!  

R was telling us this story that involved coming home and surprising her hubby by putting on "something cute."  At that point, I interrupted to say, "what do you mean by 'cute'?"  and R kind of gave me a weird look, and said, "you know...something cute" and the Dotytron had to intervene on my behalf and say, "it's a fair question for Karl, because it would NEVER occur to her to put on something that wasn't sweats.  When you say "something cute" she's envisioning a hot dog costume or like a chicken suit."  LOL!  So true!  I have a problem being seriously sexy or wearing something that's slippery.  It's just not in my lexicon.  I can't do it.  The fact that the Dotytron knows me well enough to know that I had NO EARTHLY IDEA what the subtext for "something cute" meant was really endearing.  

Sunday morning I made us this dish that I stole from a restaurant near m ywork.  They call it "eggy hammy cheesy" and it's precisely that.  An english muffin, spread with dijon mustard, topped with aged cheddar, melted in the oven.  Topped with chunks of ham, and topped with a fried egg.  DELICIOUS.  I sided it with oven-roasted grape tomatoes tossed with garlic and fresh thyme which is one of the Dotytron's favorite things in the world, strangely.

Then I parted ways from my family and went to get my bangs trimmed with Lolls and SMcKay before we headed to our friend N's baby shower.  N is the cutest preggo ever and her baby shower was so fancy!  Everyone was so lovely and the food was great and the games were fun and her Nonna is the most adorable woman ever.  I was so glad I was invited to share in it with her and her friends and family.  I can't wait to meet this little wee one!  

The Big Yam continues to learn things at a staggering rate (or so I've convinced myself, using my own personal metric of "super-genius" as my guide and not reading a single thing about child cognitive development).  He's learned how to say "7" and "8" in Cantonese and "ten" in English (he actually LOVES his flash cards, which is all kinds of awesome).  He says "roll" for this song, Roly Poly, he makes the appropriate sounds when we're reading this Robert Munsch book he loves, he says "go!" and "brown bear" and when you ask him what a lion says, he says "roar."  But it's the cutest, most muted, matter-of-fact "roar" you've ever heard.  Evidence in the video below.  He's wearing an outfit gifted to him from Auntie TPat in Vancouver:

We've also instilled the Pavlovian response in him that when we put him on the potty, he pees like, 90% of the time, thereby proving that my "reward" (he gets 1 square of toilet paper and we all clap and say "yay!") that SMcKay thought was the lamest thing ever, is working!  I'm sure nicer mums would give stickers, or candies, or some other real treat, but if your kid thinks 1 single, measly square of single-ply, scratchy eco-toilet paper is a reward - why fix it?  

Tonight the Dotytron is off doing professional development and then possibly going to a concert with Momma D.  So it was just me and the Big Yam.  Lots of stories and songs and being ridiculous.  I love 12 months plus.  It's just the best age.  He's FUNNY.  Like, intentionally funny!  And he doesn't really have enough of a sense of agency yet to be super-obnoxious or obstinate or willful.   So the past 4 months have just been a lovely, lovely time of him being a sponge of learning and a big goofball.  

I made us a dinner of packaged tortellini mixed with baby spinach in an alfredo-y cream sauce for dinner, with brussels sprouts, in awareness of the fact that our days eating brussels sprouts in 2012 are numbered, if the warm weather continues apace.  It was delicious!

Fin.

In which I talk about two things that made me almost cry with laughter this week

1)  Some people loathe office culture.  I can see why.  Putting together a randomly assigned group of people to work on tasks for over 8 hours a day for years at a time means that the veneer of public-sphere normality that most people can maintain for short periods rapidly wears off.  People are weirdoes.  MOST PEOPLE.  A lot of other people can't deal with that.  I, on the other hand, REVEL in the banalities of office interactions.  I find it such a fascinating sociological experiment every day.  Assisting me in this is that I have an unparalleled ability to find humour in the mundane and to not get fussed when people are just being weird in a way that doesn't directly impact my life.  I can let a lot of stuff roll off my back.  This week I was taking a break with G and K at work and we were trying to remember all the student placements who have passed through our hallowed halls. At one point, one guy's name came up and G said, "oh I remember ___!  We used to call him 'The Doughnut Toucher.'"  AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  It makes me laugh because it is ONLY in a work environment where you could call someone "The Doughnut Toucher" and have it actually be a thing.  It is ONLY in an office where you will find yourself looking on in horror when you bring in a box of Timmy Ho's and see a fellow colleague pawing through EACH AND EVERY ONE.  LOL!!!  So funny!!!


2) My nephew, Little Ze, has had this stuffed bear named BoBo that's he's had since he was born.  The relationship has changed through the years - it started with Little Ze sleeping with him, and then sniffing BoBo's butt to get to sleep, and then stuffing BoBo down his pajama pants for reasons unfathomable to anyone but Little Ze.  It's been almost a 6 year relationship.  My sister sent an email this morning to the family with the subject line: "BoBo is dead" and the content that my poor nephew was too scared to go to the bathroom in the night, and pooped and peed in the bed, and it was "horrific" (in my sis's words) and that as a result, the BoBo decision was made to let BoBo go.  


I responded that when I first read the words: "BoBo is dead" my heart stopped a bit (given the past year or so we've had, not an unreasonable reaction), even though I know who/what BoBo is.


My bro then responded:



Seriously...let's refrain from using the D-word in the subject line of emails. *lol* 


PS  worst way to go ever.




^^^  The PS had me almost peeing my own self with laughter.  So funny!!!  Picturing poor BoBo dead by way of a poo/pee tsunami is hilarious on so many levels, not all of them scatological.  


Last night the roomie and L'Armi brought us dinner.  It was very sweet and we had a fun time.  Today is my day off - I'm doing the usual massage thing.  Followed by a dentist appointment and futzing around the house kind of stuff.  Tonight I'm having my friend E over for vegetarian food and crafting.  Wheeeee!!!  I'm making us chilaquiles with black beans and hominy and crunched up tostadas.  And churros for dessert.  The Dotytron is taking his sis out for dinner somewhere - which was our Christmas present to her.  This weekend is hectic, but fun - baby shower, art show, dinner with friends, house stuff.  The usual melange of mundane, life-propelling, life-affirming stuff.


Fin.

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.