This is another post from my ‘Daddy Daze‘ series, an anecdotal exploration of my odd little adventures in parenting in bite-sized chunks (for your reading enjoyment) and because the last thing this world needs is yet another doting parent blog.
We’ve had a busy week. We had some family, road-trip travel. Kindergarten started. Piano lessons revved back into gear. And the official birthday party planning has begun. We’ve also been digging on many foods, fresh, new and sometimes just comfortably familiar. See, there is something nice about the end of summer after all…
Of course, it’s September so the garden — despite the hail of a couple months ago — is really starting to pump out the vegetables. We’ve been eating so many fresh potatoes, I’m certainly glad I opted to NOT cut starch from my diet back when I started my training. And then there are the carrots. Do we have carrots? We have carrots. What I had once thought was a devastated carrot crop has turned out to be a bumper crop, and for the first year in a while not grazed on by the mice. Claire has her own little patch of both the orange and purple varieties, and our evening activities these days seems to include a lot of our own grazing, plucking the straight from the soil, giving them a quick rinse, and munching away right there in the backyard.
Rice and Brown Sugar
Karin had some sort of dance show this weekend, so she’s been out of the house for a couple practice sessions this past week, and right around supper time, too. It’s not exactly kosher with her mom, but my little treat for when Claire and I are left at home to fend for ourselves is to add a little ethnic flair to our meals. This comes in the form of something I was raised — and told for most of my life — to understand was a “Dutch” thing (given that my ancestry is half of the same.) White rice with a bit of melted butter and a scoop of brown sugar was pretty much a staple in our house growing up, and I’ve introduced it to Claire along the way. Karin tends to frown on the dish, but she knows it’s fair game when it’s daddy-daughter date night and I’m in charge of the menu. Somehow that particular meal always disappears quite quickly…
It being Saturday, and the first weekend in a while we weren’t off-and-about or crazy-busy, we got back into our regular routine of chocolate chip pancakes. I think my helper was a little pre-occupied watching Netflix, but we’ll remedy that for next time. Needless to say, I think everyone was happy to see that particular family meal back on the rotation after a scattered summer with far less routine.
Gouda with Cumin
Another more-obviously “Dutch” tradition from my childhood is cheese. It would be hard to deny that spiced Gouda has a tenuous link back to the homelands of my grandparents, and somehow we often seem to have a wedge of this particular treat in our refrigerator. And as tonight was leftover night, I found myself pulling the little bit of the current wedge from the crisper and dropping it onto the table with the other assorted scavenged dinner-bits. Claire has never shown much interest in cheese — at least not beyond the cheddar or “american” varieties — but something caught her interest tonight. One sample later and she couldn’t get enough of the stuff. We nearly polished off the rest of that wedge and I think my mother-in-law — who too often is the one delivering those particular treats to our house — might need to know we seem to have another cheese-fiend living here now.
Also… there are a bunch of new photos in my gallery of this afternoon’s walk around Terwillegar Park. A generous black & white collection, just for something different.