Today is the four-year anniversary of our commitment ceremony, so that means I have to be nice to Glenn in this post, even though I recently learned that he doesn’t even read my blog. Between that and the large amount of happenings since I have had consistent internet access, I may not be able to be as snarky as usual. Apologies in advance.

At any rate, our trip from Rome to Barcelona went smashingly. I have found in Europe that airports are very accommodating to people traveling with small children as we have been ushered into every priority line at security checkpoints. This means that we got to actually enjoy a nice meal in FCO before we boarded at a mozzarella bar called Obita. Apparently, they also have a branch in LAX so I recommend you look for it if you are flying through there. The food was so good, it was hard to believe we were eating in an airport terminal.

Our hosts in Barcelona, Theresa and Pere, were kind enough to pick us up from the airport. It was nice to see wide, paved roads again, and also to have a driver who doesn’t attempt to drive at twice the speed limit. Tristan was so excited to meet our friends’ children, Joan and Alex. The three have become fast friends and enjoy running all over the apartment. Sunday and Monday were holidays in Barcelona so they have gotten in lots of bonding time. Monday (the day after Easter) is the day of mona here in Barcelona. Mona were originally tough little bagel-esque loaves with an egg and feathers on top, but through time, they have morphed into chocolate cakes loaded with little presents. The fancy mona in some shops sell for 1,100 euro. Our friend, Theresa, chose the thrifty route and baked three mona. Tristan was excited to gobble down more than his fair share of cake, and, from what I could hear from the living room, there was a good deal of excitement when Glenn got to change his diaper the next day.

On Tuesday, the kids had school again, so we took Tristan to see the Sagrada Familia. When a city has only one major tourist attraction, it gets pretty crowded, even in the middle of the week. We waited in line for about 45 minutes to get inside. We decided not to pay to take the elevator to the top which is a good thing because it turns out the next elevator wasn’t for two hours. The cathedral is pretty impressive as you can see from the pictures I took with my phone.

This one makes me think of carnivals and cotton candy.

Little known fact, the Sagrada Familia is partly made of white chocolate.

After taking in the Sagrada Familia, we hopped on the metro to meet Theresa for lunch near the Plaza del Catalunya. When lunch was done, we took a walk down Las Ramblas to do some shopping.

Tristan tried on a hat at the FCB official store, where we did not buy a 50 euro baby outfit, but instead opted for a more affordable water bottle for cousin Ziad, mini-soccerball for Tristan, and a Xavi postcard for Tristan’s newest friend, Xavier, who was born last Friday…or maybe Thursday…the time difference has me all confused.

We also got these little Euro sneakers for Tristan and a jacket for papa at Desigua (sorry no picture yet.) Also, if you were wondering, the economy of Barcelona is mainly supported by Desigual and FCB stores, which appear on every other block along Las Ramblas.

By the end of our shopping trip, Tristan had fallen asleep so we knew it was time to get some gelato and walk home. It rained on us a little on the way home, which was a nice break from the humidity.

Wednesday morning, we headed out to catch the train to Elciego in Spanish wine country. At some point in our journey, Tristan decided he was going to be a tremendous pain in the butt for the rest of the day; I think it was about 30 minutes into the train ride when the novelty of high-speed land travel had worn off. If any of our fellow travelers from car number seven our reading this, lo siento.

The landscape here in Elciego is gorgeous, a little like Napa only with higher mountains surrounding it. The little town of Elciego is not exactly happening during the week so we have spent a lot of time around the hotel, which thankfully has a pool.

Tristan had some fun with Glenn during a rare moment of not trying to break stuff or jump off the bed head first.

This is the front of the really beautiful cathedral in “downtown” Elciego.

Tristan found the tables outside of this closed cafe in Elciego a great place to hide. I should mention now that just about everything in Elciego was closed yesterday afternoon. We decided to eat dinner at the hotel only to find out that the restaurants don’t open until 8:30, so we had dinner at the wine bar.

This morning we took a tour of the vineyard surrounding the hotel. Thank good for the iPod touch which kept Tristan busy while we learned about wine production, as well as the history of the area, but mostly just sipped enough wine to get a little drunk before lunch. Life is a little bit better when you’re buzzed by noon. Lunch was followed by fun family time in the pool and a nap. We head back to Barcelona early tomorrow so I probably won’t be able to blog again until London or possibly San Francisco. In the meantime, treat yourself to a glass of wine in honor of Glenn and I being committed four years ago. Cheers!

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Tristan’s corner

“Elephant!” (while pointing at the rhinoceros in Barcelona zoo)

Tristan really enjoyed the zoo here and in Rome. It turns out that when you have a warmer climate than San Francisco, the animals can get pretty active, unlike the lethargic menagerie at SF Zoo.

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The time has finally come for us to head off to Barcelona. I thought I’d just share a few final musings from Rome.

4. The Catholics ruined a lot of stuff. Rome had some pretty bitchin’ mythology which probably means there were some sweet statues to go with it. Well, I guess the Catholics couldn’t get over the whole being fed to lions thing so most of it was torn down. In their defense, the Catholic church is responsible for some amazing artwork and Rome is still a beautiful city.

3. I’m a dork. A dorky-dorky-dork-dork.
I have previously confessed my obsession with video games on this here blog, so I don’t really need to go into too much detail. Let’s just say that I caught myself singing Sephiroth’s theme from Final Fantasy VII while in St. Peter’s Basilica. Also, a special part of each day was checking my 3DS to see if I met any Mii’s while we were walking about. Also, I did say to Glenn, “Wow this really looks like Assasin’s Creed. Two, of course.” I know…you all just collectively said, “Huh?”

2. My feet hurt! Walking is definitely the best way to see this city, but cobblestones are murder on the feet. No better excuse to get a new pair of shoes that an aching pair of flappers though.

1. Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line. Okay, I actually learned that from “The Princess Bride.” Truth be told, the people here are very friendly. I’m sure it helps that we had an adorable baby blowing kisses left and right, but, in general, it seems like people here are used to tourists and do a pretty good job accommodating us.
My heart is a little heavy as we say, “Ciao Roma!”

Rome has been great. That being said, I have spent an inordinate amount of time on this trip being pissed. There have been several reasons for this: getting only 13 hours of sleep the first three days of the trip and learning how to travel with a toddler are two of these reasons. While those two reasons account for a healthy amount of moodiness, I can’t let Glenn off the hook here. I have spent the last few hours reflecting on how best to travel with your spouse and here are a few suggestions.

1. Spend time together. Chances are that if you are reading this, you are not living off a trust fund, and that you and your spouse both work (for the sake of argument and reality, let’s assume that raising a child is work.) You probably don’t see each other for much more than four or five hours a day. If you are married to a consultant who travels as much as Glenn, you may only get the chance to spend time with your spouse on weekends. Use your vacation to get reacquainted with your spouse and try to remember why you like them. For example, Glenn and I stayed up for three hours after Tristan went to bed last night watching a crazy Italian Guinness World Record show. Years from now, we will be able to fondly remember the time we watched a woman from Poland beat the world record for holding the sword position while pole dancing.

2. Spend time alone. Yes, you love and care for your spouse, but to go from maybe 24 hours a week of direct contact with them to 24 hours a day is probably considered grounds for justifiable homicide. This can be hard when traveling since you only have one room and unless you want to spend your alone time in the bathroom, you need to find a way to be alone while you’re in the same room. For example, while Glenn and I were watching aforementioned crazy Italian Guinness World Record show, I was happily plugging away on my 3DS and he on his computer. There are many ways of being alone together, you just need to find the one that works for you.

3. Respect your differences. It is important to remember that some of your spouses most annoying habits are actually strengths. For example, I am an early riser who likes to get going and start the day relatively quickly, while Glenn could probably sleep for ten hours every day and it takes him an hour to get out the door every day, not including time to shower and get dressed. This results in me having lots of time to sit around and wait for Glenn to get hi a** in gear. It also means that Glenn is eternally well-rested and therefore better equipped to handle Tristan’s tantrums. The key is for me to find something productive and worthwhile to do during this downtime. For example, this morning I spent 30 of my downtime minutes stretching on the hotel room floor in my underwear. Try to get that image out of your mind, sucker.

If you follow these three trips, you are sure to have a somewhat more successful vacation with your loved one. Well, at least you won’t have to learn how to extradite a dead body after you push your spouse in front of a bus.

Speaking of dead bodies, here’s your dead pope of the day. I believe I have saved the best for last:

Another day in our Roman holiday has passed. Surprise, we saw plenty of piazzas. As I know many people with wee ones, I thought I’d offer some travel tips for visiting Rome. Of course, some of these apply to any city.

1. Wherever you go, you got there the wrong way, just don’t let your kid walk. We have been switching between the stroller and the carrier, but whichever one we bring, I wish we had the other. The advantage of the stroller is that you aren’t carrying your baby, who will feel heavy before long, and you have a little more space to carry stuff. The disadvantage is it is hard to get into crowded places and your child may get shaken baby syndrome from cobblestone streets. The advantages of the carrier are definitely maneuverability and being able to keep your kid from grabbing religious artifacts. The disadvantages are that one of you is bound to ruin your back after hours of walking and the other one is solely in charge of carrying the diaper bag and the camera bag, which can leave your back feeling strained as well.

2. That is how Tristan felt about the Pantheon, the Vatican, and most of the piazzas. You should expect that anyone under the age of 10 is going to hate about 95% of “cultural enrichment” while abroad. The only sights that really get a rise out of Tristan are fountains, so if you’ve got a toddler, find lots of them. Also, find monuments with lots of steps to climb so your child will be nice and tired at the end of the day.

3. The rules don’t apply here. On our broad sidewalks in the United States, it is generally considered courteous to move aside and let oncoming strollers pass. In fact, most people do this even if there is already plenty of room for a stroller to get by. In Rome, if someone is talking to their friend, you’d better be ready to either run them over or jump into oncoming traffic. Also, the upper limit of the age range at which it is acceptable for strangers to spontaneously touch your baby is much higher. Back home, I have not had a stranger touch Tristan since he was about six months old. Here, I can’t walk six blocks without Tristan being squeezed or petted. Fortunately, we are pretty laid-back about this, especially since an added perk is that people will give your kid free stuff. Teach your kid to say “Ciao!” and blow kisses and then watch the goods come rolling in. Here’s Tristan with a hard-earned cookie.

4. Don’t dress like the natives. Romans are actually quite fashionable (except for the men wearing vests over their sports coats,) but people dress as though it were much colder than it is. The mercury has hovered a little over 70 since we got here, which to me is warm. It’s not weather that necessitates shorts, but if you’re walking a lot (as most people are,) it is a sensible choice. I have seen only one other family wearing shorts…I think they were from Sweden. I wouldn’t be so upset about everyone wearing pants, but, for the most part, they are wearing lots of black, and they are wearing trench coats or winter jackets. These people seriously love black.

Yes, that is special laundry soap for black clothes.

5. Have fun and relax. Now that you have a kid, you can’t travel like you used to. Rome wasn’t built in a day, so don’t try to see all its sights in one day. Back before we had Tristan, Glenn and I went to Paris and saw Notre Dame, l’Arc de Triomphe, Sacre Coeur, and the Eiffel Tower all in one day. We were young, crazy, and we didn’t need to stop every other block to pick up toys or put on shoes or attend to some other toddler catastrophe. Two stops a day is plenty, and it’s okay if you count the restroom at the Metro stop as one of the sights on your tour. Remember these places have been here for hundreds, if not thousands, of years; you can come back and see them in twenty years or so after the little one is done with college.

Oh, and here’s another dead pope:

Well folks, you will be so proud of me. Despite my jet lag and waking up three hours before everyone else, I managed to resist my urge to push my husband into moving traffic. Of course, traffic here consists of an army of 2,361 Vespas so, honestly, what would that accomplish?
Our second day in Rome was relatively busy. After I was done with my previous post, I snuck into the living room to plug in my phone. Of course, Tristan woke up to the click of the plug going into the adaptor and it was on. I promptly put Tristan into our bed with Glenn so I could shower, because there is no way I want to leave the Italian boys with a bad impression of we Americanos. Round about nine o’clock, we were all primped, packed and ready to hit the streets.
Our first stop was Termini Station to pick up our RomaPass. I highly advise that you buy one if you plan to visit Rome because it gives you access to free bus and metro rides, as well as free and discounted museum admission. The walk to the station was nice, especially after I enjoyed a chocolate croissant and a cappuccino, both of which helped me quell homicidal tendencies brought on by jet lag and low blood sugar. The caffe had a nice view of the Piazza del Something or Other. I mean, seriously, piazzas are all over the place here so there’s no point in learning their names.
After eating breakfast and getting our passes, we headed off to the Vatican…or so we thought. Despite years of catechism classes, both Glenn and I decided that the big church in the Vatican City is called Basilica S. Paolo. Spoiler alert: it’s actually Basilica S. Pietro. Well, we hopped onto the metro to the Basilica S. Paolo stop and then proceeded to wander the neighborhood in search of our good friend Pope Benny. It didn’t take us long to realize our mistake because the Basilica we did find looked a little shabby on the outside. We were astonished, however when we entered the basilica because the interior was spectacular. This picture can’t really do it justice but I think you can see the pretty shinies:

By the way, that’s Jesus in the middle, but I think some of the dudes around him were on the menu at our next stop, the Coliseum. The Coliseum was magnificent. It is also a giant tourist trap. Seriously, they should consider restocking the place with lions and thinning out the tourist crowd. Here is where the RomaPass was really useful as there is a priority line for pass holders which means you don’t have to wait in the line that stretches around the block, or cylinder, in this case. The size of the Coliseum is truly astounding. Tristan, however, was less than satisfied with the cleanliness of the venue and insisted on sweeping up the dirt and rocks in one of the alcoves. Once we got our OCD toddler out of the alcove, we took a short stroll around outside. Here is Tristan in one of his more balanced moments on the cobblestone:

Too cute!
And here is a picture of the exterior where I just love the color saturation:

Perhaps it was the name-calling, or maybe my over-sensitive reaction to being asked to climb stairs, but my amazing husband realized at this point that it might be good to feed me. We found a cute little caffe called Oppio Caffe. I highly recommend this caffe to those traveling with children as they have FREE kids meals. We all ate for 25 euros, which included beer and a glass of wine. Also, they pizza was so delicious. I don’t know the address, but here was the view from our table:

So, yeah, just walk around the Coliseum until you see that view and then you’re there.
A full belly demands a fine nap, so we walked back to our hotel (by “we,” I mean Glenn and I, since Tristan fell asleep before the end of the block.) We followed up our nap with a gelato at the ristorante with the Ali G. look-alike (I will get that picture!) Now, it was time for the Vatican, for real this time.
As a lapsed Catholic, I had mixed feelings about visiting Benny and company, but really, how can you go to Rome and not go see the Vatican? The art and architecture were beautiful. The Pieta almost moved me to tears. It is a beautiful expression of parental love for a lost child. The anguish on Mary’s face is palpable even though the sculpture is behind plastic. I have seen pictures of this master work before, but none do it justice so I won’t even try. Actually, I think the Pope has put some sort of curse on heathen iPhones because only one shot in the whole Vatican came out halfway decent:

There are a lot more shots on our penitent digital camera which Glenn and/or I will hopefully upload to Flickr upon our return.
After the Vatican, we headed back towards our hotel for dinner. We ate at a restaurant called Nana’s near the Trevi Fountain. The food was great and the staff loved Tristan, so if you can find the place, do stop by and say, “Ciao!” Dinner was done around nine o’clock so we trompted back to the hotel for bath and bed. Until next time, “Ciao!”
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Tristan’s Corner: a new segment where Tristan gets to chime in with his thoughts.
Today’s message: “Tiny rock!” That’s right: Tristan has started adding adjectives to his nouns. This can be added to the list of things I never thought I’d get excited about. Also, when I asked him what color crayon he wanted at dinner, he said, “Red.” Looks like he’s starting to get colors too!

Oh…and here’s a dead pope:

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The eagle has landed! We have arrived in historic Rome, and here is everything I have learned about Rome in five hours, plus some comments about our journey over here.

We left San Francisco at roughly seven pm Sunday night. This seemed like a perfect plan: Tristan would eat dinner on the plane and then fall asleep for the rest of the flight. Like many of the best-laid plans, this one fell through. Sure, Tristan helped us eat our string meat (yes, even in business class, the meat sucks…at least we had free booze to wash it down,) but sleep was not on his schedule. Tristan fought and fought and after two hours of pissing off both of his parents and the nice English gentleman next to us, he finally fell asleep…in the middle of my seat. I snuggled in next to him to get as much sleep as I could manage while sucking my gut in. (Just in case you were curious, that’s about tgree hours of fitful sleep. The icing on the cake was that every time I woke up, I had to lay perfectly still since Tristan had managed to get his head on my arm. Will we be flying with a lap baby again? No.) About 80 minutes before landing at Heath Row, they turn on flood lights in the cabin to wake everyone for breakfast. Lovely. We enjoyed a plate of baked seasonal fruit (currants and canned peaches are apparently in season in England) and had an uneventful landing.
Our stopover in London was thankfully boring, unless you count a massive BM by Tig.
Now, it was time for the second leg of our journey: a quick jaunt over the Channel and across the Alps to Roma. As if Tristan was trying to foil our plans for conquering jetlag, he fell asleep about .00348 seconds after lift off, like this:

(While I joke about his poor choice of sleep timing, guess who is sleeping and guess who decided to blog at 4:45 am.) Since Tristan was not awake to entertain us for this flight, I got to enjoy my favorite dairy product, with the most unfortunate name: clotted cream. For those of you who have not enjoyed this very British treat, it is kind of like butter, only wetter and sweater. The large portion of my affection for the stuff is that I only get to enjoy it every few years when I am in England or happen to fly through London.
With tea service complete, it was time to land in Rome. Tristan woke up a few minutes before landing in a great mood, which turned out to be a blessing as the baggage claim process took a little more than an hour. While Glenn was searching for an ATM and getting our checked bags, I entertained Tristan with shoulder rides, jumping, and my hat which was the only thing keeping me from completely looking like Gary Busey at this point. We also practiced saying, “Ciao!” to all the passers-by as well. (At this juncture, it is critical to issue an apology to everyone on the flight from Beijing at the neighboring baggage carousel: my son was trying to immerse himself in the Italian culture, and not trying to make racist assumptions about people’s names.) After about thirty minutes, we had all our checked bags, except for Tristan’s stroller. As all the other passengers from our flight made their way to customs, we realized the stroller may have decided to take a detour to London, so Glenn went off to search for baggage claim services for another thirty minutes or so. At this point, Genius McJetlagpants (this is how I will refer to myself for the rest of this post) should probably have thought to remove the shrink wrap from the car seat, but, in the interest of having better stories to share on my blog, I chose not to. See what I do for you people! You will have to wait for this story, though, because Glenn was back with the stroller, which he found in the over-sized baggage area. Only in a country where the Fiat is the national vehicle is an umbrella stroller considered “over-sized.” We loaded up our bags and pushed our way through customs to finally set foot on Roman soil.

Hail Caesar!

We found the taxi line quickly thanks to the jetlag-friendly layout of FCO (that’s Rome International Airport and not the local futbol team.) We stepped out into the night air to be greeted by a crowd of Italian stereotypes. Seriously, I think they hire old men to stand around in sweaters smoking and yelling at one another while sweeping their arms through the air. And let us not forget the ladies with tight pants (not always an age-appropriate choice, by the way) and brassy bleached hair, hunched over from the weight of large gold necklaces. To put it simply, I was in love.
The wait for a taxi wasn’t too long, but it still didn’t dawn on Genius McJetpagpants or Mrs. McJetlagpants (Glenn) to unwrap the car seat until we were at the front of the line. When our cabby saw that he had drawn the short straw, he rolled his eyes and I think he may even have crossed himself. This man was a talented individual, however, and managed to get our mountain of luggage into the back of his Fiat in about a minute. Meanwhile, Genius and the Mrs. (maybe I should have gone with Captain and Tenille) struggled for five minutes to get the car seat out of its plastic prison. Not even Tristan’s “Ciao!” could get the cabby to crack a smile, which conveys how miserable he must have been. We eventually got the car seat in and Glenn gave the driver our address and the meter was ticking. Thankfully, I am married to the most wonderful, non-socially anxious man in the world who kindly reminded the driver that the fare to Rome from FCO is a flat 40 Euros (45 if you include some weird charge.) Don’t mess with the tourist who has platinum status at multiple hotel chains.
Now, it was time to relax and enjoy my fist Roman sights on the way to the hotel. Only Tristan decided he was going to kick the back of the cabby’s seat. I quickly turned on my phone and got Tristan watching “Yo Gabba Gabba” while I whipped out the phrase book to look up, “Please don’t put your cigarette out in my eye,” just in case I would need that phrase when the cabby had had enough of the Supremes (there are three of us and as Tristan was not jetlagged, we needed a new touring name.)
My first thought as we zoomed down the highway was that Rome was remarkably flat. For some reason, I was expecting rolling hills crowned with cathedrals and Roman ruins. Instead, it was Kansas with the Martini factory. Once we reached the city proper, it started to look a lot more like what I expected. Being an old city, Rome is definitely different that almost every city in America. When I first moved to San Francisco, I was shocked at how short the buildings were compared to Boston and New York City. Well, San Francisco looks like Brigitte Nielsen standing next to Vern Troyer when compared to Rome. Not only were the buildings shorter, they were covered in graffiti and some of them show their age. It actually reminded me vaguely of Puerta Vallarta. Oh, but then you see the Coliseum. That’s right, one second, your looking at row after row of pharmacies and cafes and discos, and then, BAM, there’s the Coliseum. I was truly in awe as we wound our way around the massive structure, and then comes the real surprise: “Anno VII.” For those of you who didn’t really pay attention in fourth grade when you were learning Roman numerals, that’s “Year 7.” Good lord, they’ve been persecuting Christians for a long time in this city.
The rest of the cab ride couldn’t really compare to this sight, so let’s fast forward to dinner. After checking in at the hotel (where we were upgraded to a suite bigger than our condo…score!) we went out in search of dinner. It was about 9:30 at this point, so I was not thrilled about our prospects. Also, I am pretty sure I was digesting my own organs at this point, so being told we were not getting room service had me less than pleased. We walked about two blocks from our hotel, found nothing reasonably-priced, crossed the street and started walking back. We found a modestly-priced gelateria/ristorante to enjoy our first Roman meal. We must have found the only ristorante on the Via Venetto staffed by Filipinos (though there was one Italian Ali G. look-alike with whom we will hopefully get a picture before we leave for Barcelona.) I came half-way around the world to practice my Tagalog…super.
We ordered a pizza and a salad and started to eat. The funny thing is that when you’re jetlagged and starving, your body enters this state of numbness. Your hands and feet become like distant satellites that somehow affect the movement of your body (yes, in my case, a heavenly body,) but you’re not quite good enough at physics to understand the whole equation. Then, you eat and feeling returns to your extremities. You actually feel the protective layer of sebum and dirt that has accumulated on your skin. You feel each misplaced hair spinning out of orbit making you look like an ordinary lunatic. This is when you realize it’s time to call it a night, which we did.
I hope you enjoyed this post. I can’t promise there will be more of this length on our trip as I will hopefully not be waking up before five every day. Until my next post, ciao!

Cold, wet, cold, cold, wet! I think you all know I am talking about what winter’s been like for the lot of us. I thought a cold winter was miserable enough before I had a kid, but when you live with a little dynamo, indoor days are not much fun. I’ve been doing what I can to keep Tristan entertained, which mostly means trips to the California Academy of Sciences. If you haven’t been, it’s pretty amazing; we’ve got a membership so if you’d like to go, schedule a date with us. Our membership covers up to four adults and accompanying children under 10. Tristan is most infatuated with the fish. His two favorite stops are the Philippine reef, where he can find Dory and Nemo, and the octopus tank, where he likes to practice his sign for octopus. Unfortunately, the octopus has been “hiding” for the past four or five weeks (spoiler alert: I think it’s dead.)

We’ve also made a few trips up to Tahoe. You may have heard that Tristan and Glenn got stuck on the road for about three hours on what should have been a 30-minute ride. I am very glad I was not in the car because I probably would have been throwing the biggest tantrum. Tristan loves the snow, though, and he actually really enjoys the ride up to the mountains, especially on days when we see lots of trucks.

Tristan continues to learn new words. Highlights include “bridge,” “Ike,” and “grandma.” He has started putting together 3- and 4-word sentences. The best was when he said, “Uh-oh! Hot dog!” at breakfast the other day. For those of you who don’t know, this was the catch phrase of one of Bobby Lee’s characters on Mad TV (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=logIglT9ZgI.)

It’s been a long, cold, rainy (or snowy) winter for most of us. There have been a few brief warm spells here and there, but spring seems a long way off to most of us. I decided to usher in my own tropical heat with some tasty coconut and pineapple ice cream. Of course, booze makes everything taste better, so I added a little rum to the mix. Don’t worry; the alcohol evaporates so you don’t have to worry about any tropical hangovers.

Pina Colada Ice Cream

1 can organic coconut milk

1 ¼ c almond milk

½ c granulated sugar

½ t vanilla

½ can crushed pineapple

¾ c dark rum

2 generous pinches coriander

½ t vanilla

Place coconut milk, almond milk, and granulated sugar in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Whisk until sugar is dissolved and coconut meat is incorporated. Remove from heat, stir in vanilla. Chill in refrigerator for about an hour.

Meanwhile, place pineapple, rum, coriander, and vanilla in a large frying pan over medium-low heat and stir well. Simmer, stirring occasionally, until pineapple darkens and almost all of the liquid is evaporated. Allow the mixture to cool in the pan.

Put coconut milk mixture in ice cream maker and prepare according to ice cream maker’s specifications. As soon as milk begins to freeze, approx. 10-15 minutes, add pineapple, and continue to mix until ice cream is solid. Transfer ice cream to a container and freeze for several hours before enjoying.

It’s been a little more than two months since I’ve written…so much for cutting back on Facebook and spending more time blogging! I have been keeping myself busy and have definitely enjoyed using my free time not trying to condense my thoughts into FB posts (and baking pie, as you will see.) Tristan has been changing a lot as well, so here is the essential list of five things we have been up to over the past two months or so. If you make it to the end, there is a recipe for you to enjoy!

1. We spent approximately 1/3 of these months with my parents. My parents came to visit on two separate trips. My father came to work/visit back at the beginning of January and my mother was here just last week (yay.) While I love my parents dearly, we discovered that they both have distinct annoying habits. For example, my dad likes to constantly mention how we really should move to a bigger place and then sit diagonally at our dining table so that approximately 25% of our dining room becomes inaccessible. He also likes to read the newspaper while Tristan dumps his blocks, screams, and proceeds to throw his blocks around the living room. My mother, on the other hand, is a living Faulkner novel. I doubt that a thought comes into her head that she does not express. She also likes to make sure that I have prepared Tristan’s oatmeal properly, because Lord knows after six months of making oatmeal for Tristan every day, I might just get it wrong. On the plus side, Glenn and I actually got to go out at night together and have adult time. Also, I know Tristan enjoyed having them visit because for a week after they left, Tristan would ask where they were every morning, which brings us to…

2. Tristan’s vocabulary is exploding! Tristan is picking up oodles of new words every day. For those of you who saw the videos earlier this week, he has also picked up plenty of signs. I don’t like to gush about my future president-ballerina-fire fighter-astronaut son too much, but it really is the cutest thing. Of course, the majority of his words still involve food or vehicles, but he is branching out to dinosaurs, which he calls “donner,” bringing a whole new level of nuance to California history. Speaking of the Donner party…

3. We’ve been enjoying the snow up at Tahoe. We’ve made two trips up to enjoy some time skiing or riding. Thanks to our generous friend, Courtney, we got to stay at a cozy little cabin over MLK, Jr. weekend. I actually found a part of Heavenly that is fun for snowboarders (but I’m not telling you where it is, because I don’t want it to get crowded) and I also got to go out and get chocolate wasted with Courtney and two other friends from my working days, Graham and Amanda. Unfortunately, we were not able to partake of Frenet (AKA Nectar of the Devil) on our night out.

4. We’ve been enjoying eating…and not eating. I did a 3-day juice fast back at the beginning of January. Nothing makes you appreciate food like abstaining from it. I surprised myself by surviving the experience without wild mood swings or homicidal thoughts or actions, and this was when my dad was in town. I have to admit by the second day, though I wasn’t hungry, I certainly missed eating. There is something about biting into something delicious that an apple-kale juice just can’t replace. At the end of the third day, though, I felt as though I could have kept going. I just knew that once Glenn left and I was responsible for preparing Tristan’s food again, the temptation would have been too strong. While I am on the subject of food…

5. I have fallen in love with fennel. We have been trying to go to the farmers’ market as much as possible, but as you may well know, winter is not always a fun time to be eating seasonal fruits and vegetables. Root vegetables and leafy greens are abundant at our local farmers’ market this time of year. There are only so many times you can eat beats and potatoes before you’re just sick of them. On a whim one day, I decided to add some diced fennel bulb to my usual roast vegetables. I was a bit nervous because fennel is known for it’s anise-like (read: black licorice) flavor. It turns out that the bulb’s flavor is much milder than that of fennel seeds and leaves. It’s very subtle and actually quite delicious. The stuff grows like a weed out here, (in fact, you may have seen it growing alongside your nearby eight lane freeway) so I don’t think I have to worry about a shortage. I have also made a shaved fennel, chicken, and parmesan pizza, which tasted a little like a Chicken McNugget (or at least what I recall a Chicken McNugget tasting like 15 or so years ago.)

So today, I woke up bored and decided to bake a pie (doesn’t everyone decided to do that when they’re bored?) I have been contemplating this apple-fennel pie for a while and just hadn’t gotten my mojo together to bake it; chalk it up to SAD or whatever. Anyway, I decided to half-ass this pie and buy frozen pastry dough for the crust. Of course, the perfect pairing for apple pie is ice cream, so we enjoyed this pie with some Frenet Blanco ice cream from Mr. and Mrs. Miscellaneous, which also has licorice flavor to it. Of course, a nice vanilla ice cream would probably also go well. Enjoy!

Wish I had a window sill to cool it on...

Apple Pie Filling with Fennel

10 Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored, and sliced

1/2 c sugar

2 1/2 t cornstarch

1 t ground cinnamon

pinch each of allspice and ground nutmeg

1 large fennel bulb, minced

After preparing the apples, place them in a large pot over low heat. Sprinkle in sugar, cornstarch and spices and cook, stirring frequently, until apples are soft but not mushy. While apples are cooking, mince fennel bulb and add gradually to apples as they are cooking. Once filling is prepared, spoon it into your choice of pie crust and bake according to crust directions.

Buttery, salty, chocolatey...is there anything else in life?

My kitchen can be a volatile place. For weeks in end, my appliances will languish in solitude, collecting dust, and maybe the occasional splash of water from Tristan’s steamed vegetables. Then, inspiration strikes.

This week, my inspiration was about a dozen eggs that only have a week left before their sell by date. Having dealt with a bout of simultaneous salmonella and shigella in the past, the sell by date is non-negotiable in our house. If we forget to eat it, it gets tossed. (Admittedly, Glenn will occasionally eat something past the date. Whenever he does, I tell him he is totally on his own if he finds himself doing the Green Apple Quickstep.) At any rate, I had to get rid of about ten eggs in one week so I decided that I would make a quiche.

Stay with me here, because I’m getting to the pie at the top.

I got out my copy of The Pie and Pastry Bible by Rose Levy-Berenbaum and expeditiously found a recipe for a spinach quiche that looked yummy. I figured I would make it on Wednesday. All this pie talk got me thinking about how I wanted to try making a pretzel crumb crust. I figured if you can use graham crackers to make a pie crust, you could probably use just about any crumbs. Turns out I was right. Well, then I had to figure what would go well with a salty pretzel crust, and, of course, the answer was peanut butter and chocolate. So without further ado, here is…

Peanut Butter Chocolate Pie (with Pretzel Crust)

Pretzel Crust

approx. 6 oz. pretzel sticks, crushed to make 3/4 c of crumbs (I used salted but if you are concerned about salt, I’m sure you could use unsalted, or use the thick pretzel rods to get a slightly less salty crust.)

1/4 c unsalted butter

Melt the butter in a small dish. Pour over the crumbs in a medium bowl. Stir the crumb mixture until the pretzels are coated. Press the crumbs into the bottom of a pie pan. Chill for at least 30 minutes in the refrigerator.

Peanut Butter Mousse

7 T softened cream cheese

1/2 c no-stir peanut butter, at room temperature

1/4 c sugar

1 t vanilla extract

3/4 c heavy cream, softly whipped

Beat together the cream cheese, peanut butter, and sugar until uniform in color. On low speed, beat in the vanilla. Beat in about 1/3 of the whipped cream until just incorporated. With a spatula, fold in the remaining whipped cream. Scrape it onto chilled crust and smooth  the surface so it is level. Chill in the refrigerator while preparing chocolate crust.

Chocolate Ganache Topping

3 oz milk chocolate (I was following a recipe…next time, I would use all bittersweet chocolate)

2 oz bittersweet chocolate

1/3 c heavy cream

1/8 t vanilla extract

Break the chocolate into small pieces into the bowl of a food processor. Process the chocolate until it is very finely ground. Bring the cream to a boil in the microwave. With the processor running, immediately pour the cream into the processor with the chocolate. Process until smooth, about 15-30 seconds. Add the vanilla and process some more. Spread the chocolate on top of the peanut butter mousse gently. Chill pie before serving. This pie will keep in the fridge for about 5 days.

The Holidays are almost over for another year. What a fun one we had out here in San Francisco! Tristan decided to get ready for Christmas with Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease immediately followed by an ear infection. Fortunately, his illnesses had cleared by Christmas Eve so he was able to enjoy some time with family and friends.

Glenn’s dad’s side of the family does their celebrating on Christmas Eve with a big dinner and present opening as close to midnight as can be managed with 15 or so children. Though it is technically Tristan’s second Christmas, this is definitely the first time he understood the joy of unwrapping presents and getting stuff…and boy he sure did got lots of stuff! The best part about watching him unwrap gifts was witnessing the sheer jubilation when Tristan opened a cool, new toy, and the utter indifference when he opened a bow of clothes. Of course, the magic of this moment wore off quickly, as within an hour of him opening his new toy laptop, I was really to smash the darn thing with a sledgehammer.

The week between Christmas and New Year’s was filled with visits from friends. It was a very educational week, as we visited the Academy of Science and the Exploratorium. The one lesson I learned was: “Avoid these places like the plague during school vacations.”

Lolo and Lola’s Christmas present to Glenn and I was Tristan’s sleepover on New Year’s Eve. This meant Glenn and I got to enjoy a nice dinner at Ame Restaurant followed by a night at the St. Regis hotel. The dinner at Ame was, by far, the tastiest meal ever, and well worth the luxuriant price tag. Though it was a laid-back New Year’s celebration, it ranked high on my list of good New Year’s celebrations.

We are looking forward to a great New Year here at Casa Galang. Tristan is picking up new words everyday which means he will probably be cursing out his parents within a few months unless I can clean up my language. My goal this year is to use my screen time more thoughtfully. This means I am mostly eliminating Facebook and hopefully spending more time updating my blog. After much deliberation (and peer pressure), I have decided to not entirely cancel my Facebook account. It is still a good way for people to get in touch with me and also a good way to promote my blog. I hope the new year is filled with joy and good health!