It was her birthday
PG turned nine recently and as always her birthday coincided with the end of the hockey season, which means she usually gets shafted. She’s a good sport about it. The year the boys won the league championship on her day, and she was one of the first to hoist the cup, is still one of her highlights.
What this really means is that she has a birthday month as opposed to one day. We have a just us four dinner date, a family get-together and sometime in there, a party with friends. D and I know these days of childhood celebrations won’t last forever so we enjoy making it all happen. To see her hazel eyes full of joy makes any logistical craziness worthwhile.
Yesterday we hosted both sides of the family. Yesterday, as on most Sundays, PG and I also spent several hours at the stable. When we arrived home at 1:00 PM I had 2 hours to prepare pork loin cooked in applesauce, tartiflette cooked in enough cream and white wine to make a low-fat diet junkie weep, a peach/blueberry crisp, chocolate banana ricotta bread and a Caesar salad. Plus we washed. Nobody needs horse fur stuck between their teeth.
D, showing major husbandly-wisdom, tackled the grocery shopping while I was gone and tidied the kitchen so that I could work unencumbered by day-old dishes and stacks of unsigned school papers. I’ve never cooked so furiously, and by the time the first guests arrived everything was baked or baking. Someone hand me a gold star for not injuring anyone in the process.
As I prepped I learned a few things:
a) Someone who lives in this house and refuses to come clean put cloves in my pepper mill. Cloves ≠ Pepper <<< Cooking tip.
b) Damp paper towels are effective for wiping ground cloves off raw meat.
c) I need to buy pepper.
d) It’s best if no one asks me complicated questions while I’m whirling around in a confined space.
e) It’s best if no one speaks to me while I’m whirling around in a confined space.
f) You know what? Don’t even look at me. But please hand me a beer.
g) When you tell your in-laws to bring sponge toffee, pickled jalapeños and Screech just so they’ll stop asking what they can bring to dinner, this is what happens. ↓
h) When you ask your child to choose the menu, she will make you cook your heiney off.
i) Somewhere along the way I learned how to cook like a proper grown up.
The food was delicious, and I’m basing this on the fact that I have no leftovers. What am I supposed to eat for lunch today? Guests can be inconsiderate.
Like all good parents, once the cake was finished, we sent the kids outside for fresh air and to expend their chocolate-induced high. Apologies to the neighbourhood, but we needed 10 minutes of peace.
* Sorry – no food pictures, except of the vanilla-sugar whipped cream I made.
* This is not a food blog. It’s the blog of someone who loves food. A lot. And beer. I love beer.
PS. Where do you all stand on birthday months? Is this something parents should get too?
Kat @ jackstrawlane