Friday night, sushi night. It is not quite a tradition yet, but I think it should be. Léa thought she should be part of the raw fish party and went to help herself when we turned out to disagree. We plopped her back in her seat with some edamame, and she stuffed her cheeks with little green discs. Then she got ready for her pasta with fish and veg from a jar by blowing all beans out onto the table. In the end, though, the jar was empty, the beans safely in her stomach and all of us happy with dinner.
Shoebox Cooking 