27 February: Spare ribs and sizzling beef at Insolar
The food was… serviceable. I cannot forgive the sweet salad dressing (not tangy-sweet, not spicy-sweet, not even salty-sweet, just sweet-sweet), but the spare ribs were tender, the baby enjoyed her cured ham and the husband had a generous serving of beef (raw, for him to cook on a 300 degree stone-why is that?). Still, I hope there are better places to eat out here.
26 February: Spaghetti with mackerel and cheese
Dinner was an interlude in a long working day. The baby did not agree with our plan to put her dad in charge of the bed time ritual. She’s got some impressive longues on her, that one. But we made it through, and all finally slept a whole night again. (No coughing or sore throats bad enough to wake us up.) We are going to be okay, I think
25 February: Roasted vegetable enchiladas
A pan full of vegetables, three bell peppers thrown in for good measure. Yogurt (the good, full fat kind), some cheese and chillies. We ate well.
24 February: Camembert sandwich and rhubarb tartelette from Paul
She died. It was only about six months ago that she moved to go and fight her cancer. I came to pick up her bike and we took a few pictures, hoping they would not be the last we got to take. But the cancer won and stopped her breathing and I am sad. Nothing is different, really, in my life. She was 1200 kilometers away and e-mails had become sporadic. And yet, somehow, everything is different.
23 February: Chicken tacos from Chipotle
Yeah, yeah, I know. But I was sore, my head hurt and I wanted something quick so I could get to sleep. But still tasty, of course. Chipotle checked all the boxes, so there.
22 February: Whopper, salted nuts
Again with the confusion. I wanted to buy some pasta for dinner, but was convinced they closed the section of the station that held Julia’s. With ten minutes to go before my train left, I abandoned the search, grabbed a burger and sped downstairs to find my platform. And lo and behold, there was Julia’s.
21 February: Kale-salsa-feta sandwiches, meatballs
An instagram picture by Tara Austen Weaver brought inspiration for a dinner that needed to be made even though I forgot to shop for it. (My planning skills were thrown out with the 13th tissue of the day, methinks.) She put the kale and salsa on a baked sweet potato, but we only had bread rolls, so we rolled with those. (Har.) Not bad. Not bad at all. (The meatballs came from the butcher’s and were meant to go with dinner the next day. We only ate about half, so were good on that front.)
20 February: Fish nuggets (kibbeling) with bread and garlic butter
I got up at 6.30 with a sore body and then worked for ten hours while Léa occassionally came by, screeching for attention and with an exhausted, unwell father in her wake. By dinner time, we were all shattered and the husband heroically went out to get us a large bag of fried fish.
19 February: Spicy, peanutty soba noodles with kale
They were such a hit that I brought the noodles back. Unfortunately, when I reached for the peanut butter jar to finish the food and get us to the table already, it was empty. And of course the baby would not let me leave without her, so we had a 30-minute outing on an empty stomach and with fluey heads. Buying a Crunch bar and eating nearly the whole thing on the way home was necessity, not a choice
18 February: Bibimbap with beef and kimchi
Léa was adamant that she needed to try the red stuff from the small bowl. Me: “No, that’s really spicy. Not for babies.”
“Uh-uh.” *point, point* “Uhuh!”.
So I let her lick a tiny dab from my finger and she burst into tears. Supermom, right here.
The kimchi came from a jar, but I made my own the same night. This weekend we’ll have our first taste, and I’ll keep the jar away from Léa’s pointy fingers and tongue.