Grand Tetons National Park: Phelps Lake and Family Fun.

Somewhere in the middle of Idaho.  Adventures awaiting.

Living in the wild west means I am perpetually hounded by the trips I should be taking.  It is no secret that I don't plan to live in Utah forever and so my mind has a list of must-sees about a mile long that may or may not get seen but feel urgent nevertheless.  My current, incomplete, western bucket-list goes something like this (right now; it changes constantly and is in somewhat random order):

1. Sequoia National Park
2. Seattle & Vancouver to gorge myself / see my dad
3. Brice Canyon
4. Lake Powell
5. Yellowstone National Park / Grand Tetons National Park
6. Hike at least one Slot Canyon
7. The Grand Canyon (even if just for the photo op)
8. Canyonlands National Park (gotta take a pic at Mesa Arch!)
9. See St. George (I've heard it's a cooler town as Utah goes)
10. Disneyland / Legoland (threw that in for Roman's sake)
11. Zion National Park
12. Grand Sand Dunes National Park in CO (we never made it there!)
13. Have a raspberry shake at Bear Lake during raspberry days
14. The Ogden Rodeo
15. Drive to the top of at least 1 mountain in Utah
16. Go camping at least once in Utah
17. Rent an RV and drive around the west with the kiddos
18. Las Vegas (never been!)
19. Go back to Park City
20. Go to Provo

Ironically, I did not realize we only live about a 4 hour drive away from Grand Teton National Park and 6 from Yellowstone National Park.  Upon being enlightened, those two things quickly moved up to the top of my bucket list because, well, duh, but also because it's the 150 year anniversary of the National Park system and I am a lover of nature.

Jackson Hole, WY

Neither Matt nor I had ever been to either of these parks but we determined that with 3 small children it would be impossible to do them "right," and so we flew by the seat of our pants, focusing only on Grand Tetons National Park.  I looked up a family-friendly hike on my phone as we cruised the open roads of Idaho, and, for once, food was not a priority on this trip.  I focused on having a nice time hiking in the park for a few hours and getting back to our hotel where we could exhaust the children at the awesome waterfall-filled, fake-bear-decorated pool, and perhaps get a rustic bite to eat at a local game-restaurant.

Roman admiring the river on an overlook.

It was a good plan and we were gainfully rewarded when we took the advice of other travelers and hiked the short, 3-mile roundtrip to Phelps Lake in the Rockefeller Preserve within Grand Tetons National Park.  It was uncrowded (possibly due to the patchy weather) and included multiple fun stops for the boys, among which was a waterfall with a metal walkway directly against it so that the boys could grab at the water and splash each other.  The ever-present danger of black and grizzly bears in the park is something I simply could not let go of and it did cause some stress during our hike (especially with the wee ones), but I decided the best way to keep the bears away was to sing loudly with Roman.  That meant ceaseless repetition of old Girl Scout classics like "My Grandfather's Clock," "The Gay Old Desperado," "I Said A-Boom-Chicka-Boom," "Daisy on my Toe," and some songs Roman decided to make up including an unforgettable rendition of "Jingle Farts" (sung to the tune of "Jingle Bells," of course).  I'm fairly certain the bears stayed away out of annoyance.  Mission accomplished.

On our hike we encountered a deer only 1-2 feet away from the trail; he was so accustomed to humans that he just stood there looking at us as we passed.  I was nearly driven mad by the bountiful collections of mushrooms in bloom, among them many lovely Morels, all of which are highly verboten to pick at any National Park.  The compulsion to get them almost drove me to break Federal law, but I stayed strong.  Alex was miserable for most of the hike (read: until we got to the lake and it was snack time) and I can't decide if it was because we woke him from a nap to hike (without offering coffee), or if his little hiking boots are getting too small.  Either way, I felt bad because he's too big to carry anymore, and anyway, I was carrying Linus.  Linus was a trooper for the most part, but decided to punish us by having a somewhat intense #2 diaper situation in the middle of the hike (and, as luck would have it, we forgot the wipes).  Disaster was averted and we made it to the lake without too much incident and delay.  When we got there Matt admitted he'd been trying to hurry us along so we could do a longer hike than we'd intended (there is another 2 miles around the lake), but it had become abundantly clear that the 3-mile round trip was more than enough for everyone.

*  *  *

Snacks and "Peace" at Phelps Lake

Phelps Lake was breathtaking.  Not only is everything painfully pristine in the Grand Tetons, but we also happened to be there on a day of on-and-off rain storms.  When we arrived at the lake the land was in a state of perfectly screaming pigmentation as a small storm had just passed.  It was sunny and blue-skyed, the water was invitingly emerald with the backdrop of the snowcapped Tetons and framed with towering pines and evergreens.  I've become somewhat jaded about the beauty of the mountains because we live in such close proximity to them; sometimes it just doesn't feel as exciting anymore, but this view and this environment left me speechless, kind of the way Acadia National Park did.  I wanted to sit still and silent and absorb it.  I got about 3 seconds of peace to do that.  Then I was brought back to reality with the squeals of two little boys chasing chipmunks all around me, bounding into piles of pine needles, chugging gatorade, and screaming and giggling non-stop.  Hey, I didn't say it was a bad reality, just not very peaceful. :)  Matt and I snacked on Spanish chorizo and the boys enjoyed goldfish and other sundry snackies.  All that was missing was a nice glass of wine.

Phelps Lake: Fresh air is good for the soul.

We stayed at a lovely resort called the Snake River Lodge and Spa in Teton village, a ski village just outside Jackson Hole.  The whole thing looks like a modern Swiss or Austrian village, and is nestled right on the side of the Tetons with ski-in-ski-out access being a perk widely advertised in our hotel.

We were greeted by a double rainbow at the end of our hike,
and just dodged a downpour.

In the off-season it was just wonderful.  Not too many guests, a great facility with a beautiful indoor/outdoor pool, and a restaurant or two just a short walk away.  That evening we had dinner at the local Wyoming-themed restaurant called The Mangy Moose.  The boys loved the name and the moose face on the sign.  They also loved the extensive taxidermy and antique ski articles hung all over the inside of the restaurant.  We were seated at a large table set into a small alcove, facing out on a main dining area, making it a semi-private dining experience and an easy place to corral little ones. Amazingly, this dinner was a landmark for our family.  It was one of the first and only times that all three boys have willingly sat down to eat without complaining and interacted in a decently civil manner with us.  I ordered a rabbit and venison meatloaf that came with broccolini and mashed potatoes, and Matt had elk sausage and the same sides.  We also had fried pickles to start and were very pleased to see that they were sour gherkins battered and fried whole.  They were delicious.  Roman was forced to try one but, alas, he still hates pickles no matter how much we harass him.  Alex gobbled one up and so did Linus.  The boys had mac n cheese and tried some of our food.  As a reward for the good behavior, we ordered a Mud Fudge cake and it was the biggest piece of ice cream cake I have ever seen.  The boys pounced.  Matt described it as we were throwing carcasses to vultures.  They simply would not stop until it had been devoured and were then energized, bordering on maniacal, for a quick dip in the hotel pool.

A view to the Tetons from the start of the Phelps Lake trail.

We returned home early the next day, Memorial day, (sadly two of us became very ill with a stomach bug Alex had had), good memories in our hearts and a determination to soon come back, this time to Yellowstone, in our minds.  But, really, who knows what the next adventure will be!

Homemade Porchetta Sandwiches with Salsa Verde: Crack(ling) for Foodies

Porchetta Panini with Salsa Verde: highly addictive, but legal.

I wrote this post over a month ago - life is so busy I didn't get to finish it and publish it till May, but I am retroactively publishing it :)

*  *  *

I'm struggling a little bit, as I usually do at this time of year, with the fact that it snowed again a few days ago.  In April.  And it's not easy to face the fact that it will probably keep doing that sporadically until mid May.  High desert.  Yep - sometimes I think you seriously do need to be high to put up with this shite with a smile on your face!  Freaking Denver.  Good thing I had these pictures and my porchetta adventure in the archives ready for a post that warms.

Not cool, Nature.  Not cool.

I'm not sure where the idea came from exactly but at a certain point in 2013 I became completely obsessed with making porchetta.  I suppose it might have been my subconscious harkening back to the market in Rome's Campo dei Fiori and the porchetta stand we'd passed by on our trip in 2010.  The regret of not buying a sandwich that day clung tightly to my capricious culinary heart.  I'd tried porchetta before - I'm not sure where - and the taste of it, crunchy-salty-deliciousness, lingered, like an unattainable sensory high, in my memory.  It could also be that since then I've been victim to what seems to be nothing short of a porchetta-centric-campaign of cooking shows aimed at me only, pedaling that legalized and quite addictive substance and how to make it yourself, featuring food trucks and restaurants alike showcasing kick-ass porchetta.  I was truly convinced I'd become the unwitting victim of a universal conspiracy to entice me to death with crackling, herbs and lemon juice.  Something had to be done. 

Porchetta in Campo dei Fiori; be still my beating heart!

 

A couple of months ago I happened to land on an episode of Guy Fieri's "Diners, Drive-ins and Dives" (a show and celebrity chef I love to hate but can't stop watching) and was sucked into an episode on a sandwich joint that made what can only be described as the most tasty thing I'd ever seen (again): their own homemade porchetta sandwiches.  The place was called Meat and Bread in Vancouver, BC, and their purposely-simple approach to sandwiches (meat and bread, literally) drew me in.  Well, and I simply couldn't take it anymore.  I had to get out and finally commence that delicious hunt for the ingredients that would ensure that the most delicious of roasted pork belly sandwiches would be mine at last.

*  *  *

THE HUNT

Crackling Heaven.

Porchetta is traditionally from Lazio, the region in Italy where Rome is located.  As if that is not already appealing enough to me, It's also considered something of a celebratory food in the sense that it's usually sold out of food stands, trucks or markets during festivals, and most people consider it a picnic or holiday food in Italy.  It was, not surprisingly, introduced to the US by Italian immigrants and has been adopted and adapted around the country.  It is wonderful served as a main dish (like a pork roast) but truly shines, in my humble opinion, when served as part of a "panino" or sandwich, along with Italian salsa verde - a divinely acidic and earthy sauce that perfectly cuts the fat of the pork belly.

And what is this salsa verde of which I speak?  It has nothing to do with tomatillos and onions.  Nothing new-world about it, really.  It's a sauce rumored to have been brought back from the near east by Roman soldiers to Italy where it was then exported to France and Germany and theoretically also the new world - which is where we get things like Argentina's Chimichurri.  Admittedly, there is some question in my mind as to whether salsa verde is always traditionally served with porchetta in Italy as most of the recipes for porchetta with salsa verde I've encountered tend to be found in modern American publications, but, frankly, at this point, I truly do not care about authenticity.  Salsa Verde is one of the few foods that makes me salivate on command.  At this very moment I have visions of fresh herbs, garlic, peperoncino, lemon juice, olive oil and anchovies dancing through my head.  Those six things may very well be my favorite ingredients of all time.  Ok, plus salt.  I can't imagine anything savory they wouldn't make taste better.  No, really. :)

I figured it would be pretty easy to find what I needed to make the porchetta.  Who doesn't like pork belly?!  Well, apparently nobody in Denver likes it enough to demand it be sold at their local grocery store.  I went to at least 5 different grocery stores.  I tried the regular suspects in addition to my two favorite ethnic Mexican grocery stores, but it wasn't until I entered the meat section at Pacific Ocean Int'l Market (my go-to Asian market here in Denver) that I found what I was looking for.  Amidst the smells of fermented bean curd, dried shrimp and science-experiment-looking tapioca puddings, I found a large selection of pork bellies, none of which had the loin still attached as is generally used in Italy - but no matter.  The vast availability of pork loins - the least flavorful part of the pig - is a testament to the boring culinary lives most of us lead.  I picked one up at King Soopers - and I swear I left my judgments at the meat cooler - and moved on with my life and recipe.

*  *  *

THE FEAST

Delishness from above.

I read an article recently in Food & Wine written by a woman who grew up in Soviet Russia, living through food shortages and her mother's creative ways of making the government issued rations of nast palatable (see "Russian Food: A Love Story").  Apart from contemplating the oft-discussed reality that when there is none around, everything becomes about food, she also recalled her mother as having (maybe because of the food shortage, maybe in spite of it) "compulsive hospitality syndrome" - the compulsive love of sharing food with those you care about.  She would prepare dinner parties from tinned meat and half-rotting potatoes.  She coveted the neighbor's black-market bananas.  There was also a kettle ready to brew tea for a passing friend or neighbor.  I suppose this is akin to being called a "feeder," which is what my sister calls me.  I can't stand not feeding people, and, most of the time, if I am excited about making a recipe, it's at least in part because I can't wait to share it with someone I love. 

Which is why, one snowy weekend in February I invited our good friends and old neighbors over for a porchetta dinner after Matt and Tony went off to watch a Monster Truck Rally with the boys.  It left me ample time to make the salsa verde, make the salt rub for the porchetta with my friend Gaea, a recent convert to meat.  We rubbed the salt and lemon zest spice mix on the slotted pork belly skin.  We filled it with herbs.  We rolled it.  And then we roasted it low and slow in the oven, so that the skin on the pork belly became the crunchiest, saltiest of crackling, breaking off in chips as you sliced the roast, crushed onto the sandwich in an infinitely more sophisticated version of the ham-sandwich-with-Lays-potato-chips.

That night we feasted.  We served the sandwiches on ciabatta slathered in salsa verde, piled high with pork and crackling, and topped with more salsa verde.  A brisk white wine for me and beer for the rest finished it off quite nicely.  I'm certain I was in a salt and meat coma after the first three bites, my former vegetarian friend sitting across from me, smiling, licking her fingers - the best and realest testament to the transformative power of food - and the fact that Porchetta is crack for foodies.

*  *  *

Porchetta Sandwiches with Salsa Verde

Recipe from Meat & Bread in Vancouver

Serves 8-10

Ingredients

Salsa Verde
1 bunch parsley
1 cup canola oil
2 teaspoons toasted fennel seeds ground
2 teaspoons toasted coriander ground
2 teaspoons chili flakes
small handful of fresh fennel fronds, chopped (optional)
2 anchovy fillets (optional)
salt
2 cloves garlic
zest of 1 lemon
lemon juice from 2 lemons

Salt & Herb Rub
2 tbsp coarse salt
2 tsp toasted fresh rosemary, chopped
2 tsp toasted fennel seed, crushed
2 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
zest of 1 lemon
small handful of fresh fennel fronds, chopped


Other Ingredients
2-3lbs (combined weight) Pork Belly with loin still attached (or buy them separately)

kitchen twine
extra canola oil
ciabatta rolls, sliced lengthwise for sandwiches

Method

1. Preheat the oven to 275F.

2. Make the salsa verde in a blender (or chop by hand if you're feeling it), set aside.

3. Make the salt & herb rub in a small bowl and set aside.

4. Score the pork belly skin in a hatch pattern so it will roast and crisp up nicely (see pic above).  Spread some (about half) salt & herb rub on the inside of the belly and loin.  Roll the pork belly and loin (with the loin in the center) into a cylinder and tie tightlywith kitchen twine.  Rub the rest of the salt & herb rub and a generous amount of oil all over the outside.

5. Place porchetta in a roasting pan (relatively deep as lots of fat will be coming off this baby) and roast in the oven for 3 1/2 to 4 hours.

6. Turn the heat up to 450F and roast for a further 25-30 minutes or until the skin is completely golden and crispy (as in the pictures above).


Serve on ciabatta rolls smeared with the salsa verde, with chopped up meat, sprinkled with the crispy crackling on top and more salsa verde.  Enjoy!

The Summer Wind.

Dennis Port, Cape Cod, MA 2013

The Summer wind
came blowin' in, from across the sea.

It lingered there to touch your hair

and walk with me.

All summer long we sang a song

and then we strolled that golden sand -

Two sweethearts - and the summer wind.

Frank Sinatra / Lyrics by Johnny Mercer

*  *  *

NOTE: I found this unfinished post in my drafts and decided it was worthy of posting despite being 3 years old.  It was nice to look back at that lovely summer of 2013, now in the Spring of 2016, when we only had Roman and were enjoying the best of times in Denver and New England with friends and family.  

*  *  *

This post is meant to be an ode to the end of summer.  Maybe it's this week's 3-day torrential downpour and the ensuing basement mini-flood that has inspired me to reflect so fondly - nostalgically, already - on this past summer, but I think more accurately it has to do with the idyllic week we just spent in New England.  Part-vacation, part-family-visit, part-wedding-celebration for Matt's brother.  We all had such an enjoyable time.  And there is something very special about a family being "complete" in the sense that all our siblings are now married and these people are the ones we'll be sharing family holidays, reunions and making memories with for, hopefully, the rest of our lives.

There have been many wonderful "firsts" and special memories made this, the summer of 2013.  Here they are, in list form:

Top 10 (11) Moments of Summery Goodness

2013; in no particular order

Roman risking the diving board for the first time at our local pool in Stapleton.

Matt and Roman fishing together for the first time at Washington Park, Denver

The Labor Day (or maybe Memorial Day?) party in our courtyard with all our neighbors.

Canoeing on Evergreen Lake for Father's Day with Roman and Matt.
So lovely.

A nice day trip to Summit Lake on Mount Evans.
We saw a ridiculous amount of big horned sheep that day.

A pit stop at Avery Brewery in Boulder after a day of hot and glorious hiking.

Roman discovering Chichen Itza in the Yucatan during our vacation to Mexico.
He was very upset that we weren't allowed to climb it.

A beautiful hike in Rocky Mountain National Park.
Roman had to be bribed with Snickers, of course, but it was fun all the same.

Grocery shopping at King Soopers is never dull with Darth Vader in tow.
He's partial to the deli section.

Playing on the beach in Cape Cod before Uncle Marcus' wedding meant the ring bearer
was out like a light as soon as the ceremony was over.  Oh but he had a ball.

My little garden box in Stapleton, overflowing with bountiful zucchini,
tomatoes, fennel, herbs and more.

Amicable Alimentations: Garden-fresh Sauteed Broccoli Rabe

The Rabe: Highly Bolted.

Amicable Alimentations: A series of posts with no predictable order or timing dedicated to a delicious food and the friend who most reminds me of it or inspired me to love it.  Here's the link to post number one, number two, number three, and this, of course, is post number four in the series.

*  *  *

We are getting ready to head NE for Matt's brother's wedding, and so I find myself nostalgic for many things I associate with Matt's family and New England summers: verdent forests, running on Dunkin' for a week straight, family time on the boat, early nights slurping oysters and clams at the local raw bar, and late-night drives on the causeway.  I've been a part of Matt's life in Connecticut for the better part of 10 years now, and I have a lot of fondness for his hometown and his family's traditions.

One of the first times I met Matt's family, we ate what I didn't realize was a staple of their diet: sauteed broccoli rabe.  A self-professed lover of broccoli, I was dumbfounded that I'd never even heard of it.  (Italian thing, for the record.)  Anyway, they told a story about some lady who used to say "I never liked broccoli rabe until I met the Ciardiellos."   Well, that lady is me now.  And this post is dedicated to Matt's family for having introduced me to what is now one of my favorite veggies.  (Which, also for the record, is a lot to say.)

The years in London were like a metaphorical culinary desert, for many reasons.  I never saw much in terms of unique or local "greens" in the grocery stores, despite, ironically, the English countryside being covered in fields of broccoli rabe, its yellow flowers in bloom, harvested for rapeseed oil only.  There is no culture of eating greens in the UK - not like in Italy and Greece.  Anyway, I was very pleased when we moved to Portland and discovered that every local grocery store carried broccoli rabe.  In withdrawal, we feasted for months, and, temporarily, the beast was sated.   Now, in Colorado, we're back to the famine: no broccoli rabe to be found!  I saw it once at King Soopers for a few days and then it was gone, never to be seen again.

lovely, bitter, and leafy

When spring hit, I resolved to grow my own, knowing nothing about how or when to do so.  The only picture I had in my head was that of a little garden in South England where Matt's great uncle had grown his own as well.  I figured if he could do it so could I.  One purchase of heirloom broccoli rabe seeds later, I was on my way.  These are the results.  a few precious stalks (and admittedly I waited too long to cut a few and they bolted and got a little woody, but I ate them anyway :)) sauteed in olive oil with fresh garlic and crushed red pepper.   Pretty close to a perfect summer lunch, in my book.

I was proud of the small but beautiful little crop I reaped.  And I'll be trying my hand at growing some more in the next few weeks as the climate here in Denver starts to cool.

*  *  *

Sauteed Broccoli Rabe with Garlic

Serves 4, as a side-dish

 

Broccoli Rabe is a bitter green that grows best in cooler temps and partial shade.  It's not the best crop for hot Denver summers but might be good for Denver Springs and early Falls. :)

Ingredients
1 lb broccoli rabe, washed
2-3 cloves garlic, lightly crushed or sliced
crushed red pepper (pepperoncino)
olive oil
salt & pepper

Method

1. Bring salted water to boil.  Add the broccoli rabe and cook for about 5 minutes (this step tones down the extreme natural bitterness), until tender and bright green.  Drain and shock in an ice bath or by pouring cold water over the colander until the broccoli is cooled and has stopped cooking.

2. In a sautee pan, add 2-3 tablespoons of olive oil and heat on medium high.  Add the garlic and crushed red pepper (to taste and optional).  Swirl the oil around so it gets flavored by the garlic and pepper flakes.  Do not allow the garlic to burn.   

3. Add the broccoli rabe to the hot pan and toss to coat in the olive oil, adding more oil if necessary.  Sautee for a few minutes, then salt and pepper.

Serve with a wedge of lemon.  Can be eaten hot or at room temperature.

Keep Your Eye on Little Jupiter: Roman is 4!

Birthday boy riding his new bike

Before I can remember remembering,  and definitely before I was four, I knew I had a special necklace I daily wore and that my parents gave me.  It had a charm with what looked like a number four on it, paired with a gold medallion of the Virgin Mary, Jesus and the Holy Spirit which I'd been given for my baptism.  This all seemed very normal.  It likewise seemed very normal to me when my mom told me the "4" was an Egyptian symbol for "eternal love."  It also made perfect sense that this bit of wisdom was one she had gotten from none other than the cover of an album in the 70's by Earth, Wind & Fire.  :)

My four.

It's funny what's passed down from one generation to another.  I thought of that four a lot last week, when Roman turned four, and we held a bouncy house party for him in our front yard.  I thought about how that metaphorical "eternal love" had also been passed down to him, but that, unlike my mother - blessed with two obedient daughters - there was no way I'd trust my little warrior to wear a gold necklace, and probably wouldn't for years to come.  But that despite that, I metaphorically gave him my "eternal love" daily, and in greater amounts, perhaps, on the day of his birth, that day being filled with so many memories and so much meaning for me and him.

In the end, symbols have the meaning we wish them to.  It took me little more than a few minutes to do some research and find that my beloved four is actually the symbol for the planet Jupiter, in some ways far more fitting for Roman than me because Jupiter was the head of the Roman pantheon, the Italic equivalent to Zeus.  Jupiter symbolizes optimisim, the higher mind, generosity, goodness and opportunity.  His was the thunderbolt and he was held to be the greatest, the strongest, the leader.  I can't help but feel that's apt in some likely-highly-exaggerated, perhaps maternally-convoluted way. :)  Roman and his Buzz Lightyear party, in which he was the head space ranger, wings, lightning bolts, laser gun and all, is indeed a little Jupiter - commanding our attention, our admiration, and our love in new ways every year.  Roman bravely suffering his first cast being put on a broken arm.  Roman asking questions at the art museum about Mummies and why we die.  Roman asking me if I'm a dark heart or a true heart when I don't want to share my dessert.  Roman knocking things over and leaving trails of crumbs, no matter how mindful he tries to be.  Roman being his wonderful self: thoughtful, silly, boisterous and perfect.

And so, to close, in the funk-filled words of Earth, Wind & Fire: 

"Keep your eye on Jupiter, such beauty in the sky,

 We will wait for your return, in the by & by

Keep your eye on Jupiter, memories we shall fulfill

just to view a brighter day, and do a righteous will."

*  *  *

Here are a couple of lists to remind me of what Roman is and has been like over the past year, his first spent in Colorado, and some pictures from his wonderful, friend-filled birthday party - a chance not only to celebrate Roman being in our lives, but also to celebrate the small but budding support network of friends we have started here in Denver.

*  *  *

Top 5 Songs Roman Loves to Sing / Listen to

a little more angsty, and a little more selective

Sing us a song - you're the piano man.

 1. Lookin' Out My Back Door - Credence Clearwater Revival
There was a six-week period when we went skiing every weekend, mostly at A-basin this year.  I became obsessed with listening to my Credence Clearwater Revial Greatest Hits CD during the multiple-hour drives.  Let's just say that thanks to that and maybe thanks to us watching The Big Lebowski and absurd amount in his youth, Roman has become a fan. Especially of the line "Do-do-do-lookin' out my back dooooooaaa'!" which he belts out while slapping the back of his seat, kinda like I do :)

2. Little Talks - Of Monsters and Men
This became a favorite on our cross-country drive last June from Maine to Colorado.  It's kind of a dark, broody song with a slightly haunting quality to it (for the love, don't watch the freaky video), but for whatever reason Roman calls it "his song" and gets mad if I don't put it on when requested.  He also loves to yell out "hey!"

3. Pack Up - Eliza Doolittle
When my niece Sara Eli came to stay with us during our first month living in Denver, Roman and her developed a hilarious duet singing to this song.  Sara was Eliza and Roman was, clearly, the old black man that sings the chorus to this remade, British World War I song. :)  Hilarious.

4. Home - Philip Philipps
Again, not the first song I would have thought a three year old would like, but there's something about the melody that holds Roman's attention.  He loves to sing and hum to it.

5. Ta-ra-ta-ta - Mina
This is not the song Roman sings most often, but I have to say, it's the one he's absolutely the most passionate about.  I became a fan of this song after Matt and I watched a funny Italian movie called "Dillo Con Parole Mie" in which the protagonists do an impromptu lip sync of this quirky 60's era Italian song at the end of the movie while riding a bus in the Greek Islands.  Mina's music, if you're not familiar with it, is a bit dramatic and lots of fun, in the best of ways.  Roman knows all the words - in a slurry, phonetically pronounced Italian - and also works a MEAN shimmy while he sings them.

*  *  *

Top 5 Random, Funny & Touching Things Roman Said

over the past year

Funny guy.

1. Every day after school Roman has to wash his hands.  Sometimes he tries to trick me by just quickly rinsing them without scrubbing with soap, so I always ask him to let me smell his hands when he's done to prove that he actually used soap to wash them.  The other day he cam up and said: "Mommy, smell my hands.  I used water and sunlight."  They still smelled like bananas but I couldn't help but smile. (May 2013)

2. Roman was looking particularly thoughtful one day in the car after one of our many conversations about mummies, death and Egypt (where you go when you die, according to him).  He suddenly announced, "Check one: don't get old and be dead.  Check two: don't crash into things so you'll be dead." (Jan 2013)

3. In reference to the human anatomical feature we call intestines: "Mommy at the bottom of your stomach it looks like you have macaroni but you don't." (Jan 2013)

4. "Hello, this is Roman Ciardiello.  Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.  Thanks." :) (July 2012)
 
5. Bright and early on the morning of his 4th birthday, he woke me up and said:
"Mommy, look how big I am! Look how big my eyes are!
(Stretches eyes)
Look how big my nose is!
(Flares nostrils)
Look how big my muscles are!
(Does the Popeye)
I can even hop on one foot!"

And then he hopped all around, halfway and very proudly, for quite a while. :)

Honorary Mention: When Roman broke his arm in October at his cousin Ava's house after falling off his daddy's back (while riding him like a horse), we all spent a nervous and worrying couple of hours in the Children's hospital emergency room.  I couldn't tell if he was scared or just in pain; he was just very quiet and stoic while he watched cartoons.  When we got out, and only after being given quite a lot of pain medication, he looked at me as we walked to the car and said, "Mommy, I thought I was going to die."  Little people, big world.

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Top 5 Things Roman Loves These Days

strange and varied, like his mom

Foo Dogs with Daddy; Chinese New Year

1. Ancient Things and Egyptian Mummies
When we started frequenting our new local library last year, Roman and I gathered a motley assortment of books.  I wasn't sure what he'd be most interested - not having taken him to the library for years (please don't judge me: there are no libraries in Abu Dhabi (yep.), and the two times I went in Portland he almost got us kicked out he was so loud and boisterous at story time).  One of the books was this Eye Witness book on Mummies.  What ensued was an endless series of renewals and a full-fledged obsession.  At the beginning of the school year, I was informed by one of his teachers that Roman had given an impromptu lecture on Mummies, the Sphynx and hieroglyphics for his pre-school class (choice quote: "Can everyone say 'the Great Sphynx?'").  Our membership to the Museum of Nature & Science has paid for itself about five times over.  And a very nerdy party of me absolutely loves that he knows who Anubis is.

2. Steak.
What a little man Roman has turned out to be.  He loves steak and requests it regularly.  That and pork chops.  When I asked him this year what he wanted his special birthday dinner to be he said, unequivocally, "Steak, corn (on the cob) and cherry limeades (from Sonic)."  That's what we had - along with the prerequisite chocolate cake with strawberries (his favorite), and Bluebell Ice Cream. 

3. Guns & Shooters
"Shooters," as they are euphemized at Roman's school, are the dreaded but inevitable obsession of most toddler-aged boys I know.  Even if I never gave him a toy gun, he would use his finger, or a branch, or a piece of broccoli.  He loves playing good-guy-bad-guy (again, something he was never taught) and loves putting on his holster, cantine and cowboy gun his Grand gave him.  He also admires his daddy's love of skeet and bird shooting.

4. Bedtime Stories & Night-lights
We have an array of different night lights in Roman's room, from the snoopy one to the regular one, to the Christmas lights in his "secret hiding place" (the crawl space in his room).  My mom even got him a cool turtle that displays stars and moons on the cieling and plays nature music.  There's nothing Roman loves more (and nothing that works as a better threat or bribery) than his beloved bedtime stories.  Matt is more fun than me because he likes to hide under the blankets and read stories with a flashlight.  But I get the prize for good voices and accents.  He especially loves the Olivia stories (I agree) and we recently found a great version of Jack & the Beanstalk which he really likes.

5. His Soccer Class.
We signed Roman up for pee-wee soccer a month ago or so.  His first class was a struggle for his two type-A parents, watching him be the only kid who completely disregarded the coach's orders and basically ran around picking up random soccer balls at will.  Matt had to step in several times.  Eventually, Matt set up a mini, nightly, post-dinner training camp in our basement.  He memorized all the games and drills Roman was supposed to know and basically drilled him in them daily (all the while having a great time, might I add) so that now Roman is the best, most well-behaved kid in his whole class (well, besides the goody-goody girls, which, everyone knows, will always be better behaved than the boys!).  Every day after dinner Roman says, "daddy can we go play soccer now?"  I love that.

Honorary Mention: Breaking my back - by stepping on every crack, that is. :)

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Top 5 Random Cool Things About Roman

Roman soldier, or Jupiter in disguise?

1. He's a Classicist at heart, too.
At some point in the fall of 2012, I discovered I still had my National Geographic CD on Pompeii that I used as a teacher in NY for my Pompeii unit.  I immediately wanted to put it on for Roman - the recreation of Vesuvius' eruption alone is worth watching it for, but the British actors are a second, surprise bonus - but Matt said he thought there was no way he'd be interested.  Against all odds, he sat there the entire hour, enthralled by the story of Pompeii, its people, and the eruption.  It soon became his favorite movie to watch and for about a month he watched it daily.  We were thrilled when our local Nature & Science museum then opened a beautiful exhibit on Pompeii, complete with the plaster casts of bodies and animals that are Roman's favorites. 

2. He Dallies in Aesthetics.
I wouldn't say Roman is a particularly "broody" kid, but he definitely has a lot of pensive, quieter moments (yes, even in between all the screaming, yelling and throwing that goes on non-stop).  He's more observant and less willing to share his inner thoughts than a lot of kids I've met.  Sometimes that drives me insane.  Sometimes, though, it is a great reminder of what a beautiful, deep little soul I have in my house.  Roman loves to stop and admire beauty everywhere, from the sun ("Mommy, isn't is a beautiful day?"), to art ("Isn't that painting beautiful, mommy?", to my dress ("Mommy, you look like a princess!".  He thinks it's interesting that people can fall in love with the wrong person, but still find the right one eventually.  He often asks me what songs "mean" and then sits to consider what I've said.  I hope I can continue to model and encourage that about him.

3. He has an incredibly memory.  And flare for the dramatic.
My mom says he gets it from me.  I have to agree.  I don't know many other people who can memorize most choice parts of a movie after just watching it once.  Roman loves to perform little sections of movies he likes.  Most memorable is his rendition of the "Bernie" clip from The Incredibles, complete with hand and head gestures, and several character changes.  And also his delivery on the dead-pan line by Lightning McQueen while in the Rust-eze tent: "Race cars don't need headlights because the track is always....littt." He has also mastered basic American, English, Scottish and Texan accents.  I'll have to video-tape him one of these days.

4. His favorite holiday of All is Halloween.
He has told me multiple times that he prefers it to Christmas, which, to me is borderline heretical.  He loves skeletons (2012 costume) and, as anyone who knows Roman can tell you, is absolutely obsessed with candy and sweet things.  He loves it when the seasonal Halloween stores pop-up, and trips to Wal-mart in October become almost impossible as he insists we go try on every single mask they have.  He started planning next year's costume before he was even done trick-or-treating this year.  I can't wait to see what he'll be next.

5. He loves maps.  And thrift-shopping.
Roman and I have become companions in trawling for unusual and interesting things at our local Goodwill and other thrift shops.  He loves to go down every aisle looking at things and asking questions about them.  Once we found a gigantic child's Atlas - the thing is probably 2.5 feet by 1.5 feet.  It shows maps of the whole world and the US, and is illustrated.  He loves to look at it and it became quite the rage at school when he brought it for show and tell.  He owns many other atlases (the first of which we purchased at a yard sale in Portland last summer) and has a map of the Roman empire in his room.  I love his curiosity at what they are, how they work, and what they represent.  And I'm thankful that he loves to indulge my closet-hoarder tendencies. :)

*  *  *

Roman's 4th Birthday & Party

Blowing out his candles with Evil Doctor Pork Chop and a Cherry Limeade

His first real bike - no training wheels!

The stage.

Sweet moment with Daddy before the madness.

Scoping out the goods.

Leading Space Ranger Training Camp!

On the war path for the Evil Emperor Zurg!

Zurg has arrived.  ATTACK!!!

Funny faces.

Finally breaking the pinata!

Jumping together at the very end.

 Happy 4th Birthday Roman!

Invoking Spring: Barrafina's Chorizo & Watercress Sandwich

Barrafina-inspired Chorizo Sandiwch with Watercress salad

Sometimes in the Spring, ever-so-fleetingly, I get nostalgic for London.  This year that was the case last week when I re-experienced the frustration of it being too cold to wear anything but a sweater in the middle of April.  It's just not right.  And it's just what I experienced every single spring in Londontown.  Even now, I shake my head at my British / UK-residing friends' facebook statuses about how they're almost convinced the sun will never shine again, that the weather will never warm up.  I shake my head in dismay, but also in solidarity.  I know their pain.

So this post is about invoking Spring in an otherwise un-spring-y circumstance.

I remember the first time I heard about the then-new Barrafina restaurant in London's west end back in February of 2007.  My hellacious boss (who I'll refer to as " Luca Delcattivo" here for the sake of anonymity) had taken a client to lunch there one day and came back to our offices raving about it.  Tapas.  New, delicious, refined Spanish tapas in London like none he'd ever had outside Spain.  I drooled at his brief but poignant descriptions.  Shortly thereafter, in March or April, Matt and I went there and we were so blown away that we insisted on taking most of our guests there too when they came to visit.  And a couple of Marches and Aprils later, they were all blown away too.  It's such a nice place to eat, but best in the Spring, when the window-walls fly open and you're left to enjoy the ambiance of Soho, crowds toasting glasses of wine as they wait patiently outside the door, wafts of gambas and garlic filling the air.

*  *  *

Top Things that Invoke that Springtime Spirit 

at Barrafina

watercress in a snowy garden

1. A Glass of Cava
 Maybe it's the stark, modern decor or the white-marble countertops, but, to me a glass of bright, bubbly Cava is the best-fitting drink to start your meal at Barrafina.  There is always a queue so forget the fantasies of walking in to a lovely white-linen-lined table and eating a leisurely meal.  Tables don't exist either (except for a few impossibly-small ones on the sidewalk outside if my memory serves).  You get there, you get a drink, and you stand outside with the rest of the world on the street, drinking, toasting, and feeling bubbly.  The cava brings the sunshine to you.

2. The Ooey-Gooey Tortilla Española (with shrimp)
The Spanish Tortilla is a thing of beauty.  Eggs and potato combined into round sublimity.  At Barrafina they cook individual-sized tortillas in tiny cast-iron pans, finishing them under the broiler so that the outside is set but the inside is an ooey-gooey, runny, eggy mess.  A revelation. Completely, absolutely, delicious.  They offer many different variations - often using seasonal ingredients (perfect for a time like Spring).  We especially enjoyed the one with shrimp.

3. The Pan con Tomate
Dreams of sun-ripened tomatoes haunt me at this time of year.  If you've never tried this uber-simple Spanish-staple, you must.  You will never look at a tomato and piece of bread the same way again. 

4. The Seafood
Nothing screams warm-weather and better-days more to me than a well-cooked piece of seafood.  Barrafina excels at taking fresh fish and highlighting its best aspects.  Get the octopus, the clams, the razor clams - or any of the fish.  They are all cooked simply and perfectly.

5. The Cheery Ambiance
The seating in Barrafina and the fact that you can't make reservations will either make or break the experience for you.  It's hard to sit at a long bar when you're with more than one person.  You are always seated next to a stranger.  There is no privacy because the cooks, the bar staff and chef are all running around in front of you, making food, drinks, taking plates and glasses, offering another round of painfully expensive Jamon Iberico which you will not be able to resist after a certain number of alcoholic libations.  But that's ok.  You'll feel shocked the next day when you remember the total cost of the meal, and marvel at how, truly, you're probably still hungry after having had 6 plates between the two of you.  But that's ok.  Sometimes its worth it just for the ambiance and for a couple of truly amazing bites of food.

*  *  *

Last week I decided to invoke the spirit of Barrafina by making what was one of our favorite dishes there (though we admittedly loved them all): Chorizo and Watercress sandwiches.  I'm not sure whether they still serve the chorizo sandwiches or not as it has been about four years since we've been there but judging by the reviews on Urbanspoon, whatever they are serving is still as good or better than what we had several years ago.  We loved the sandwich both because of its simplicity and its seamless fusing of Spanish and British cuisine: the Spanish chorizo and bread together with a quintessentially English crop - peppery watercress.

Bolillo and Chorizo

The chorizo I used is Mexican (I like it hot, what can I say?), and I simply formed small sausages from loose chorizo, grilled them, and paired them with a lightly toasted (grilled) Mexican bolillo.  I then placed a small helping of a watercress salad dressed simply with lemon juice, fresh garlic, salt and pepper on top.

Spring in sandwich-form. :)