bananahands

Here is a video of Sawyer's first experience with solid food: bananas. I'm not sure how soon we'll be repeating this exercise. As the banana didn't go over very well, I tried mango the next time--even more unpopular than banana (is this really my child??)! Granted, it was a lliitttlleee on the tart side. He actually leaned over the side of his bumbo seat and barfed it onto my leg. It looked totally deliberate.

One hell of a trip out east

Earlier this month Sawyer and I embarked upon an historic journey to Chicago and Philadelphia to visit my long-lost lady friends: it was the longest either of us had ever been away from Chris Gray, and while Sawyer had already flown a few times (to Seattle in January and Utah in May), I knew the Philly-Denver leg would be long, and wondered how we would fare. In fact, Sawyer was positively awesome; he won fans at every destination and on every airplane, which I think is maybe a miracle.

Our first stop was in Chicago to visit my all-time favorite Bryn. When Brynny and I get together, it's non-stop convo, cultural festivals and perpetual ethnic foods. Here is a summary of our visit.

On day one we ventured into Oak Park to stroll through neighborhoods where Frank Lloyd Wright both lived and left his architectual mark. The first picture is his residence, the second a house for someone who allegedly wanted to live in a cathedral, and the third, just a handsome little number that doesn't challenge anyone's notions of domestic asthetics.

This excursion was followed by our first Eastern European food stop: The Ukranian Village restaurant. Here is Bryn entertaining the man while we wait for our borscht and meaty dumplings.

In the evening we went to the Puerto Rican festival, which curiously, though advertised as food, crafts and dances of Puerto Rico, seemed to be mainly an opportunity to sell cheap sunglasses, blast deafening music and clothe oneself in all manner of Puerto Rican flag habits (don't get me wrong, I LOOOVVEE Puerto Rico--shout out to Carla and Yamil! We just expected more.....culture).

On day two we went to the Swedish festival, and were again disappointed by the presence of mannifold local businesses advertising their services, and the curious lack of things Swedish (save a few forgotten dancers at the far end of the festivities). To compensate for the Northern Absence, we lunched at Ann Sathers, where I had the Swedish Combo, maybe the biggest meal I've ever paid $9 for. You are looking at a Swedish pancake with lingonberry preserves, a potato sausage, Swedish meatballs, one egg, fruit and the mondo-biscuit to end all biscuits. We actually ate that biscuit for like three days after this meal.

Sawyer has entered the bouncy-phase. All that sucker wants to do is bounce. Observe how Bryn expertly handles his springs at Ann Sathers.

In further hommage to Scandinavia, we visited the Swedish bakery before leaving the neighborhood, where we overheard one of the funnier culinary puns of recent memory: a few eager teenagers entered the bakery, and one hollered to the others: "Are you ready to rum ball??" "Yeah!!!!" The chorus growled. They then ordered rum balls and munched them thoughtfully.

While Bryn worked on Monday and Tuesday, Sawyer and I played and hung out, did Hollywood photoshoots, and strolled around Bryn's lovely neighborhood in Elmhurst.

On our last day we went for Greek food (I finally learned what taramosalata is!), and then Bryn took us to the Arboretum, where we took a lovely, lovely nature walk.

In front of Marmo lake.

After Chicago we flew to Philly to visit friends Sarah and Colin. On day one we visited a cheese shop where we got fixins for a picnic, and then hastened to The Forbidden Drive, which is part of a 9200 acre city park (called Fairmount Park) that meanders through lovely Wissahickon valley. Here are Sarah and Sawyer relaxing post-feast.


















On day two we headed into town. As ashamed as I am to say it, I didn't see the Liberty Bell because the line was too long; and when I saw a sketch of it on a sign, I said, 'Good enough, I've seen it.' I guess that's one of many reasons why I'll never be nominated for the patriot award. Things change with a wee one, though--my mother's instincts told me he would never put up with queueing in the sun for who knows how long. We had every intention of returning a few hours later for the Independence Hall tour, but, alas, we were so busy looking at cute clothes at the H&M that we never made it back to learn about the pivotal moments in American history that took place there.
Later we visited the Italian market, which actually has morphed over the years into the Latino market (mostly, save the butcher shops with whole skinned
goats hanging in the windows), where Sarah posed in front of the overwrought occasion cakes. On our way back to the station we saw the imposing 19th century city hall.


























Before catching the train home we stopped by the most fabulous Reading Terminal Market (see Sarah holding $.99 bunches of asparagus). I have to admit this depressed me a little. It's been a long time since I lived near a place where I could get such cheap, fresh produce--the Boulder Farmers Market tends to disappoint, as it's more about gourmet foods and hippy handicraft than produce, and it's the opposite of cheap. I guess the dense urban centers that exist in the east support this kind of market, and it's just one of the advantages of living in a big city (if you can stand the traffic, pollution, etc). But it is one thing to regret about our peaceful setting here in the plains: I actually paid $4.95 for a head of cauliflower yesterday. Don't tell Chris.







At this same market we saw a crab variety show. They were all on their backs on a big tray, practicing the cancan, I think.


Back in Conshohocken, where they live, two happy lesbians named Sarah were finally able to adopt a baby of their own.














On Sunday we went to Sarah and Colin's ward: Valley Forge 1st. It's a strange thing to hear names so associated with the mythical anecdotes of American history attached to modernity and, well, the quotidian. For someone like me who's never really been east, this is demystification to say the least.

Sarah and I are culinary friends (and more); therefore it goes without saying that we did some experimenting during my visit. For the sake of our collective pride, I will omit retelling the catastrophe that attended our first attempt at making croissants. I think we both intend to restore our reputations in our separate domestic spheres by showing French pastry who is boss, which hopefully will be posted on our food blog in the making: "Gastronomy with Sarahs G." We did, however, create something very successful: imagine, if you will, a mini corn muffin. Now imagine that you've hollowed it out with a melon baller or similar tool. Now imagine that you've filled it with something luscious: our first atttempt included cream cheese, italian sausage, sauteed peppers and mushrooms, carmelized onions and a little melted cheese. Now, in your mind, put the tiny muffin lid back on, and bite into the deliciousness. Over the next few weeks, imagine what other succulent combinations of fillings might drive you wild.