So just the other day I posted a video of Luke "not crawling exactly..." 
Today was Luke's 6-month birthday and I can't believe how fast the time has gone, or how much he has changed/ grown/ stolen our hearts since he arrived.
We just returned from a lovely week with Bill & Brigitte in the Okanagan region of British Columbia. Despite an exciting drive over two windy, wintery mountain passes with little to no visibility (and Brigitte saying her prayers in a loud whisper in the backseat), we made it to the valley, which is Canada’s premier wine region. This is a photo of Bill, Luke and Keith at the Mission Hill winery.
We visited wineries, pieced together a Thanksgiving dinner even though it wasn’t Thanksgiving in Canada, and Brigitte hit a good streak in the casino, taking the slots for $400+. And of course, Luke had a jolly time playing and laughing with Grandma and Grandpa Duffy and learning lots of new Irish-isms. He now knows that "ya little tinker" is a loving term.
On our last night there we went to a wonderful little French bistro to celebrate Brigitte’s birthday (and Bill’s belated). The food and service were spectacular. The guys especially enjoyed a Grand Mariner flight and dessert cheese plate… how French of them.
The gals also enjoyed an after dinner French delight, but ours was in the washroom, as this tiny bistro had a “European toilet”. In short, it was a throne with a bunch of buttons including cartoon-ish pictures of the available services. I was a bit timid, so made Brigitte try it out first. As I waited outside the stall, she exclaimed, “Jaaayz [note: that’s ‘geez’ drawn out and in an Irish accent.. anyway:] “Jaayz Stephanie, it’s only lovely!” And then she proceeded to laugh and laugh and laugh. If you’ve never experienced one of Brigitte’s hysterical laughing fits, it’s quite contagious. So of course I started laughing too, and I had to get in there and try it. And indeed, it was only lovely.
We must have been in there for about 20 minutes, then came out refreshed and giggling. Bill and Keith just rolled their eyes at us. We drank some more wine and closed the place down. Sweet Luke was asleep in his car seat next to our table the whole time.
This fall Luke and I have been attending a weekly mom & baby program at the community center in our neighborhood. We sing songs/ rhymes, read stories, talk about mom things and let the babies coo at each other. This is SO not the type of thing I ever imagined myself doing, but it has been great.
Luke’s favorite diddy is called “slice, slice” and luckily it’s one of the ones I always remember so it gets a lot of play in our house (hmmm…I guess that’s why it’s his favorite). Luke can be cranking away, and “slice, slice” pretty reliably turns it around.
Incase you ever need to calm someone down –I suspect it would work on a person of any age; why not?—here are the lyrics (with hand movements):
Slice, slice bread looks nice (make slicing motion across belly with the side of your hand)...
Spread, spread butter on the bread (pretend to spread something on person’s belly)...
Some jam on top to make it sweet (use fingers to softly pinch person anywhere you like)...
And now you’re good enough to eat! (commence tickling, fake biting or whatever floats their boat)
Even Keith knows “slice, slice” and, in fact, I used it on him just the other day. I went to make his lunch and all we had in the house was PB&J and a bulkie roll. He thought it was absolutely ridiculous, no way, he’d rather starve than have PB&J (which he loves) on a roll; it simply MUST be on sliced bread. I’ve heard this before… I once tried to serve him a hamburger on a bagel and we argued about why that was fine (me) vs. so wrong (him) for quite a while. This was before I would eat a hamburger; now I understand why/how it just doesn’t work.
Anyway, I decided to make the sandwich because I know he doesn’t have time to get lunch and he just might settle for the PB&J on bulkie in a pinch. So, in an attempt to make it more appealing, I started making it while saying “slice, slice, roll looks nice…” Keith started laughing. But apparently he still didn’t eat the sandwich. It’s probably rotting in his work fridge.
The shopping part took a while, as our kitchen is ill equipped for this sort of thing. The equipment shortage is due to the fact that the “furnished” apartment we rented seriously lacks appropriate kitchen gear if you want to do more than eat take out. Sprinkle in the fact that I was adamant about putting everything we own into storage, and the conversation around choosing a recipe goes something like this:
Keith: “this sounds good…”
Steph (looking at recipe): “requires a blender, no good…”
Keith: “uh huh”… as he’s thinking, I told you we should bring more stuff ...but he knew better than to say it.
So this is the year we decide to become cooks---this year while our very nice, expensive blender, sharp knives, specialty utensils, etc. are in storage somewhere near O’Hare airport. Therefore, although this cooking at home thing should save us money, with the equipment and pantry start-up costs, we would have spent less eating out!
Yesterday we decided to make chicken mole. If you don’t know mole, it’s a traditional Mexican sauce that has a rich, complex flavor driven by an uncommon mix of ingredients. The recipe we chose included ground almonds, french bread, ancho chiles, tomatoes, cinnamon sticks, and about fifteen other things that are blended and simmered for a long time.
The problem with us attempting to make mole is that our benchmark is a mole we loved at an authentic Mexican place in Chicago. As one restaurant critic said, “I’ve swooned over Mexican sauces all over this city…but the moles here can stop your heart.” So, that’s what we—novice home chefs—were trying to make.
The recipe we found was in Bon Appetite; a magazine that assumes its readers actually know how to cook. That said, the directions were a little vague for us, with instructions like “lower flame and cook until the chicken is done” Umm… lower to simmer or just low? And how LONG does it take to get “done”? Keith just kept going to Wikipedia to find out how to, how long, or how come we needed to do something.
Of course this recipe required a blender AND a stockpot, neither of which our “furnished” kitchen contains. Luckily, we have a fantastic store in our building that sells everything you can imagine. Yesterday I was there three times, but luckily Luke LOVES that store, so it doubled as a fun outing for him. Of course the blender I grabbed was not exactly like the one on display—I got the French one, so I’ll need to learn how to read chop, puree, etc. in French. And then the stockpot. They had only one that wasn’t part of a set and I knew I was in trouble when I saw the price… it was $12.99. And this is a place where everything costs double what it would in the US. I actually laughed out loud when I picked it up…with one pinky. I almost had Luke carry it out of the store. Then I thought longingly about my nice, expensive stockpot…in storage somewhere near O'Hare.
So back to cooking. It’s funny cooking with Keith because he’s vigilant about following recipes. I’m no experienced chef, but I recognize when it’s OK to improvise a little or make a small substitution. Keith is VERY BOTHERED when I attempt to do things like this, so I typically try to hide it. For instance, the mole recipe called for 6 peppercorns but the only peppercorns we had were in a jar with a built-in grinder, which you can’t remove, so I suggested grinding some pepper into the mix. “How will I know when it’s 6 peppercorns’ worth?!” Keith exclaimed. He was serious.
At my suggestion, he was the head chef for this meal and I was the prep/ sous (“Sue”) chef. And though blending would typically be a sous job, Keith was working our new blender when it exploded. Actually, I think it was more like user error than equipment malfunction, though unfortunately I didn’t see the incident unfold. The picture shows what I walked in on as Keith was shouting “Sue, get back here!”
Long story short, the mole was excellent! We congratulated ourselves several times while inhaling it.
The only bummer about this dish was that it took 3 hours to prepare, an hour to clean up and about 10 minutes to eat. I think we’ll just fly to Chicago for our mole fix next time.
Stay tuned for our next cooking adventure!
The Duffy household, on the other hand, tuned in religiously. And it was very convenient having the games on 3 hours earlier than on the East coast!
Keith was VERY excited that Luke’s first WS included his Yankees. And—I’m embarrassed to admit it—but I decided to root for the Yanks too. I came to this [decision] because 1) I didn’t want our son to hear his Mommy screaming “Yankees Suck!” and 2) after watching a few games and getting to know the players, I got a little attached. Don’t get me wrong, when playing the Red Sox, they’ll always be bums…especially Johnny Damon. But there are some good guys there—Jeter, Rivera, Petitte, Posada—they’re pretty classy. And basically, I wanted to keep the peace for the sake of our impressionable son. I hope Keith will do the same next year when the Sox are playing for the WS again
Or better yet, this is why Luke should be a Cubs fan! He is a Chicago boy after all.
So, given that I only half-care about the Yanks, I went to the gym for the first few innings of last night’s game 6. Upon my return, in addition to finding a dirty diaper, soiled pajamas and an empty bottle strewn about, I found Luke looking like the photo above.
Even with my new-found (and temporary) support for Keith’s team, it was a shocking sight. Mostly because it was Keith’s ratty Yankee cap that was last washed who-knows-when (cue opportunity for Grandma and Grandpa Duffy haven’t sent a baby Yankee cap!)
So anyway, congratulations to New York. Hopefully the ticket, concessions and souvenir sales this past week paid off your crazy-expensive new park!
Talk to you soon.
