Packing, Pall Malls and Prosciutto

I know all three of you reading this think I am a horrible person. Neglecting you such as I have. It's been at least three maybe four years since my last post. Or three months. Who is counting?

I have excuses though!

Valid reasons as to why I have not sat down and waxed poetic of my food adventures, love affairs and madcappery. Just give me a second to think of the most sincere sounding one.

Okay I apologize. I have just been plain uninspired.

And multiple big things have been happening.

First and maybe most important (because it's all about me) I am leaving the great state of Minnesota. I will give you time to compose yourself. I know it's a shock to everyone's system.

But yes. I am moving.

I am giving up on snow and heading to the now even greater state (because I'm moving there) of North Carolina. My roll at the underwear megalith that employes me has changed. I will now be in the glamorous world of sock design. And before you ask in that almost condescending way "is there a lot that goes into designing a sock?" Remember I may feed you at some point. And I watch a lot if CSI Miami and Murder She Wrote. Hiding a body is not a challenge to me.

Back to me.

My Minnesota visa expires later this month and I will then be reporting from tobacco country. Please stay tuned for my shenanigans involving fried chicken, Pall Mall's and republicans.

Now on to the food portion of my food blog.

A while back SAGL and I made a house decision to go all Oprah and live life to the fullest. Which really means we made plans to visit our dear friend and confidant Ms. Antipasto for a fete to end all fetes in Plymouth Massachusetts at the start of December. This party is co hosted by an Italian immigrant and her husband who I'm certain was one of the Car Talk guys. This party is so exclusive it involves eVites (we really need to bring that back).

So in preparation for this extravaganza I basically planned on eating nothing but salads and laxatives for weeks. Luckily the salads were more satisfying and I stuck to that daily menu.

Back to the party.

The scene was set in what can only be described as a glamorous set of a Murder She Wrote serial killer made for TV mini series. This village within a village has everything you need to never expose yourself to outsiders. Beautifully nestled in the Cape adjacent woodland we settled in for a weekend of massive caloric intake and old fashioned Christmas hi-jinks (drinking egg nog with biscotti liquor).

While there I found my soul mate in a 60 something Italian mother of two who may or may not be a hobbit. Her stealth like jabs at her daughter and coma inducing lasagna are legendary throughout New England. Don't cross this woman or JB Fletcher will be banking off your demise.

All in all best damn holiday party I have ever been too. And I hope to hell Ms. Antipasto eVites me back (as I check my inbox daily for the golden ticket).

Now I am sure you are wondering "what the hell happened to your New Year's resolution to try a new restaurant a month?".

Unbunch your panties. I've kept up on it. Mostly.

SAGL and I took advantage of our time in the greater Boston area and forced friends old and new to gather in our glory while traveling.

First in an intimate grouping we lunched at Russell House Tavern. This subterranean delight was fine by me because I was able to catch up on my hometown's Motorcross that somehow made it on the bar tv. I was only slightly distracted from my cheese platter of love by the classy chick who thought it was sexy to share her bra straps with the whole of Christendom (and this Jew). But lets get real. Cute atmosphere, cheese platters and wine. I'm sold.

About two hour later we needed to feed again. Recall the month of salads?

Our dinner was provided to us by the cheerful staff at Catalyst. Lets start by talking about reservations. We made one. When we arrived they asked if we had one. When we sat down I was glad to see we had our choice of almost any table in the restaurant. Beggars can't be choosers.

The menu was simple and tasteful but our little group of six was left too long to ponder. And with that, minds changed about a 1000 times. I naturally settled on a burger. My staple on which I judge all chefs.

Personally the jury is still out on Catalyst. I need to go back. And we all know that it will be closed or re-imagined by the time I get out there.

In a nutshell that is why I've been absent online.

With only a few days left in Minneapolis now is your chance to say goodbye to me, confess your love to me, or tell me F-off. I'm really counting on the Meg Ryan confess you love me scenario playing out.

I'll check in once I settle in North Carolina.

Tattered, Trains and Tiaras

All the pretty stuff is from Tattered - you don't have it at home yet do you?
I think that fist on the travel plaza sign means they serve a nice lox.
And Ms. Stewart - such a tease. 

***Update - Sometimes my tech skills are more PONG than SIRI. If the link to Tattered below doesn't work just go old school and type in the address bar

This weekend I had the opportunity to travel via bus, car and train to the outer limits of city life in Minneapolis and visit some friends who live in Sleepy Hallow Clearwater, MN. I was honored to be invited to attend and contribute to the Second Second Annual Holiday Sale at Tattered (VISIT THE SITE). This pop up shop of upcycled, collected and vintage goods will make your home look better and now taste better (because my food is now on sale there). 

And your home needs to be better.
Just look around now.
You need better throw pillows. 
So post man pantie unbunching at the office on Friday I loaded up my wares, grabbed my countriest of man handbags (not really I took my favorite – you could hide a body in there.  A fun sized body but a body nonetheless), and hopped on the train. I felt just like Rosemary Clooney racing to Vermont in White Christmas. Hoping that some old man doesn't hit on me like they did her in the sad drama of a movie. 
Two things to discuss from this overnight adventure:
1.       Eating at Travel Plaza’s – which is the bougie way to say gas station
2.       Chocolate Babka and How I Was Afraid I Magically Turned Straight
Let’s start with number one. It’s quick and tasty. Like my last blind date. 
If you find yourself in the center of Minnesota on the corner of Highway 24 and Interstate 94 there you will find a cornucopia of life and food. Staffed with what seems to be an unending supply of teenagers with a passion for Clearasil and chit chat this nouveau Nelson’s Mercantile (that’s a Little House reference for you hard core Minnesotans) is a must stop. Clearwater Travel Plaza houses a full sized bakery, restaurant, mobile phone store, gift shop, pub, and truckers lounge. Now I’ve seen a few “independent films” that involve trucker’s lounges and I am going to go out on a limb and say that this trucker’s lounge is not like those.  I’ll find out next time. 
I found myself at Clearwater Travel Plaza picking up a Chicken and Wild Rice Pizza. Yes you read that right.
Chicken and Wild Rice Pizza. 
And it was amazing! White sauce with wild rice and chicken covered in mozzarella cheese cheerfully made by some 4H star of Stearns and Wright Counties. While breaking bread with friends Mini Martha and Super RA I had to mentally yell at myself, “DO NOT UNHINGE JAW AND INHALE BENJAMIN! YOU MUST REMAIN COOOOOL!” If you ever find yourself in a room of gay men and carbs as the primary food source you will find yourself surrounded by bold face liars. You hear things like,” I caaaan’t! Yoga in the morning” or “It’s almost swimsuit season” or “my trainer would kill me”. When in reality they are all thinking, “that bitch better not take the last piece and if I stay close and time it right I can pretend to put it in the fridge while secretly eating it in the mud room so those greedy tiara wearing queens can’t judge me.”
Gay Gospel Truth.
Long story short – get the damn pizza when there is nobody else home. Pop in some CSI: Whatever Cop Makes Your Lady Bits Tingle and eat until you fart and make yourself laugh. 
On to number two:
The reason I was invited to the holiday sale extravaganza at Tattered (VISIT THE SITE) was not for my 20 years of retail experience, my keen eye for visual merchandising or my lumberjack sex appeal to draw in customers. It was for my bread. 
A few months back I was divining my way through the bible that is and I came across the New Testament Book of Breads. Chapter 2 Verse 6-8 I read the words that would forever change my faith in baking, “Chocolate Babka”. My inner Jew started schvitzing with excitement. I knew at once I had to take on the challenge.
Now months have gone by and I am obsessed. I have made The Holy Bread babka multiple times. I have repurposed it as French toast, breakfast bakes, dessert, midday snack, lunch and dinner.  It will now be the go to hostess gift I bestow upon non-believers. And it was the housewarming gift that I sent with SAGL to Mini Martha (he’s from the Crafting sect of the coven, not the food sect that I belong to – we get along as core believers in the almighty being Ms. Stewart). Which in turn got me the invite to exclusive Second Second Annual Tattered Holiday Sale. 
As the doors opened at 10 am for the sale of the century I was mentally reciting passages from Dolly Parton’s Book of Wisdom: Steel Magnolias, “I'M A CHAIN!” My food was now being brought to the country masses of central Minnesota!
Here is where things get scary…
I’m standing behind the counter of the exclusive Second Second Annual Tattered Holiday Sale using my sales prowess to up the ante of the area woman’s holiday table setting when out of the blue my biggest babka fangirl took 5 minutes off my life expectancy. As she hoovered up the samples of babke we had on hand she uttered this, “oooooooohhhhhhh mmmmmmmyyyyy gaaaaaaawwwwd your bread has changed my life”. Now I have heard this before but never from a woman.
So as my head began to spin and my hands got clammy I slowly sat down on the super cute and masculine workshop stools the Mini Martha provided. It was then that Ms. Stewart herself came to me in a vision. Bathed in a buttercream of light and swathed in caramel cashmere Ms. Stewart said, “She’s talking about my bread your dumb beeyotch – calm down. No woman is ever going to swoon over your bread. Your bread is for men only.” Then she started screaming at her personal assistant.  Who probably deserved it. 
Then my biggest fangirl bought two loaves and I was all “stop it…oh I know how good it is”. 
Long story short – Chocolate Babka is manna from Ms. Stewart. Thankfully I still do not attract women. At least the ones born as women. And you need to find your way to Tattered (VISIT THE SITE) for the next sale. 
Ms. Stewarts Chocolate Babka
From Martha Stewart Living May 2000 (aka Chapter 2 Verses 6-8)
1 ½ C Warm Milk, 110 degrees
2 (1/4 ounce each) packages Active Dry Yeast
1 ¾ C plus a pinch of Sugar
3 Whole Large Eggs, Room Temperature
2 Large Egg Yolks, Room Temperature
6 C All Purpose Flour, plus more from work surface
1 Teaspoon Salt
1 ¾ C Unsalted Butter, cut into 1” pieces, Room Temperature, plus more for bowl and loaf pans
2 ¼ Pounds Semisweet Chocolate, finely chopped
2 ½ Tablespoons Ground Cinnamon
1 Tablespoon Heavy Cream
Streusel Topping – 1 2/3 C Confectioners’ Sugar, 1 1/3 C All Purpose Flour, 12 Tablespoons Unsalted Butter, Room Temperature. Using a fork or food processor mix all until fully combined with varying sized clumps.
1.       Pour warm milk into a small bowl. Sprinkle yeast and pinch of sugar over milk; let stand until foamy, about 5 minutes.
2.       In a bowl, whisk together ¾ cup sugar, 2 eggs, and egg yolks.  Add egg mixture to yeast mixture, and whisk to combine.
3.       In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, combine flour and salt. Add egg mixture, and beat on low speed until almost all the flour is incorporated, about 30 seconds. Change to the dough hook. Add 2 sticks butter, and beat until flour mixture and butter are completely incorporated, and a smooth, soft dough that's slightly sticky when squeezed is formed, about 10 minutes.
4.       Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface, and knead a few turns until smooth. Butter a large bowl. Place dough in bowl, and turn to coat. Cover tightly with plastic wrap. Set aside in a warm place to rise until doubled in bulk, about 1 hour.
5.       Place chocolate, remaining cup sugar, and cinnamon in a large bowl, and stir to combine. Using two knives or a pastry cutter cut in remaining 1 1/2 sticks butter until well combined; set filling aside.
6.       Generously butter three 9-by-5-by-2 3/4-inch loaf pans; line them with parchment paper. Beat remaining egg with 1 tablespoon cream; set egg wash aside. Punch back the dough, and transfer to a clean surface. Let rest 5 minutes. Cut into 3 equal pieces. Keep 2 pieces covered with plastic wrap while working with the remaining piece. On a generously floured surface, roll dough out into a 16-inch square; it should be 1/8 inch thick.
7.       Brush edges with reserved egg wash. Crumble 1/3 of the reserved chocolate filling evenly over dough, leaving a 1/4-inch border. Refresh egg wash if needed. Roll dough up tightly like a jelly roll. Pinch ends together to seal. Twist 5 or 6 turns. Brush top of roll with egg wash. Carefully crumble 2 tablespoons filling over the left half of the roll, being careful not to let mixture slide off. Fold right half of the roll over onto the coated left half. Fold ends under, and pinch to seal. Twist roll 2 turns, and fit into prepared pan. Repeat with the remaining 2 pieces of dough and remaining filling.
8.       Brush edges with reserved egg wash. Crumble 1/3 of the reserved chocolate filling evenly over dough, leaving a 1/4-inch border. Refresh egg wash if needed. Roll dough up tightly like a jelly roll. Pinch ends together to seal. Twist 5 or 6 turns. Brush top of roll with egg wash. Carefully crumble 2 tablespoons filling over the left half of the roll, being careful not to let mixture slide off. Fold right half of the roll over onto the coated left half. Fold ends under, and pinch to seal. Twist roll 2 turns, and fit into prepared pan. Repeat with the remaining 2 pieces of dough and remaining filling.
9.       Bake loaves, rotating halfway through, until golden, about 55 minutes. Lower oven temperature to 325 degrees. Bake until babkas are deep golden, 15 to 20 minutes more. Remove from oven, and transfer to wire racks until cool. Remove from pans; serve.
Bake on beeyotchs.  May the power of Ms. Stewart be with you. 

Colin Ferrell, Bar Meat and Deal-A-Meal...Ireland Part Deux

(actual Irish art on an alley wall)

I left you last while I was off speeding through the Irish countryside on what was basically a glorified electric rickshaw. That day included a coach bus trip, a "train" ride and a Bourne Identity like drive in a black sedan drivin by Just Joni. 

I am home now. And have gone through the photos and memories of the past two weeks and would love to share with you (or regale you with my opinion) on the food I noshed while visiting the Former Red Headed Step Child of the British Empire.  

Let's start with pub food.  Fair to moderate. One place clearly took the pizza out of the freezer and placed it in the oven. And I know what you're thinking, "why in God's name are you eating pizza while traveling to Ireland?". And I ask you where is there a "Little Ireland" in our major cities.  I can take you to Little Somalia, Little Mexico, Chinatown.  The list goes on.  Now I called my Boston reference desk (Anastasia Beaverhausen) and she said in Southie there are some traditional Irish pubs that serve the fare.  Which to me means sandwiches and fries under the guise of "chips".  The food in Ireland is comfort food.  Including the top of the McDonalds-like hamberger bun passed off as a roll at one pub.  And it was just the top of the bun.  

The few times we stepped out of the pub box I was pleasantly surprised.  Below are my favorites (and admittedly some were from pubs). If I was with it enough to get the name of the restaurant I will note it. If not, assume I was drinking.  

spicy beef salad - little kick to it - was drinking

smoked mackerel pate - olde castle bar
donegal town, co donegal, ireland

The above pate was pretty friggin' good.  We were in the sleepy seaside tourist trap of Donegal Town.  Cute city, but loaded with tourists.  And a really drunk woman who took our photo and then jokingly wanted to charge us 200 euro.  I was only impressed in that she was going to charge us 50 euro but then took 4 pictures  (drunken slip of the finger I assumed) AND did the math to charge us the right amount.  Good times.  

P.S. The rehab clinic in Dublin is next door to the Guinness factory.  

sticky toffee pudding - pat collins bar
adare village, co limerick, ireland

The above brown mound of goo was a stand in the glow of the fridge and eat it like the Richard Simmons is beating down your door because you used your last carb card in the Deal A Meal deck on a sad sack of pretzels in the conference room. I don't recall sharing this and if I ordered it again I would Danielson your hand so fast Mr. Miyagi would choke on a fly.  Sticky Toffe Pudding with Cream was hands down the best thing I ate while in Ireland.  A traditional British dessert, this steamed cake is bathed in toffee and caramel sauce and is dirty dancing with some sweet cream.  Worth every empty calorie and is certainly on my list of desserts to try and make.  

I do have two actual restaurant recommendations in Dublin. 

First is Brasserie Sixty6.  Located in Dublin 2 on South Great Georges I was very pleased with our dining experience. I ordered off the 3 course menu (completely afraid of blowing my Deal A Meal Deck...I joke. I'm sure Deal A Meal worked for someone). 

cooked and smoked salmon and chervil fish cake
w/ celeriac puree, caper and shallot dressing

rotisserie chicken - garlic, thyme and lemon
w/herb stuffing balls, mash potatoes, peas,
broad beans, radish, pancetta and lettuce

lemon and chocolate eton mess
w/strawberry ice cream
(basically meringue pieces mixed with
chocolate mousse on a bed of
strawberry ice cream)

Finally I come to fish and chips!  After two weeks of traveling  I managed to only eat a handful of chips (or freedom fries W. might call them) and no deep fried fish. I knew the Minnesota State Fair was coming up so there was no rush for deep fried anything as of late.  However, being the last night in Dublin the Golden Girls and I ventured out for some fish and chips.  And for the sake of story Sophia would put it - 

Picture it. Dublin 2012. Buckets of rain coming down.  A sense of defeat and victory permeate the air as the Olympics are overstaying their welcome across the Irish Sea.  I find myself seeking refuge is a Costa coffee shop (think Starbucks without gumption).  As I settle in for the tsunami to pass my attentions are piqued by the Colin Ferrall-esque gentleman to my right.  I only imagine his attentions were also piqued by my soaking bosom in a tight tee shirt (covered by a sweatshirt and jacket). Soon a conversation starts (read:my American self was not about to sit in an unpadded chair and therefore budged my way to his nook).  As I learned that all Irishman are interested in what I have to say or I just don't know how to keep my mouth shut we soon started chatting about food.  We covered various restaurants in the area and the seriously disturbing documentary that was airing locally about midwifery.  Neither of us understood the wading pool in the living room birth.  

Long story short, Colin eventually brought up the topic of fish and chips. I assured him that my traveling companions had already indulged and that being from a Great Lakes region I was versed in the consumption of fish fried or otherwise.  He insisted that I try Dublin fish and chips at Leo Burdock's. He then followed it up with, "you do realize you are on an island right?". He actually didn't say that but I thought it to myself.  

A few hours later I gathered my girls in the lobby and we layered up our scuba gear and headed out to find Leo Burdock Fish and Chips.  My keen navigation skills got us suuuuuuppppppeeeerrrr close.  And with the help of the well signed Dublin streets (seriously no damn street signs - all Irish come GPS loaded apparently) we found it about 4 pair of wet panties later.  

My only beef with Leo Burdock was the 6 foot sign hanging out front listing all the celebrity that have visited and binged.  Why the beef?  Because while The GG's were in getting our meal I tried to find a place to put my name and there was NO room.  I assured the management that back in my country that I was a well respected food blogger and lover of dow eyed puppies.  He didn't care.  So I ate my emotions with his chips.  He won this time.  And because I am a nice person I will link to his page.  And when he sees all the traffic coming from Two Birds One Scone he will get his.  

Happy Eating.  

More fun to come very soon - involving crock pots, more from supper sluts and red pants.  

Aaaahhhh...crap.  I NEVER got to try shrimp flavored Pringles!  But I did try black and white pudding (the dessert that is really a meat).  Much like closing time at a bar I had my choice of meat at the "continental breakfast".  I kid about the bar thing.  I would never...really.  Below is my black and white pudding.  I really liked the white and not the black.  That's not racist.  Ask Black Kelly or Madam Butterfly.  

that is not my finger next to the puddin'

Banged, Mashed and Cow Nookie

I've been traveling in Ireland for just over three days and as I whip through the Irish countryside on a train I thought there should be no reason in 2012 that I can't keep up to date on this little baby I call a blog. That's what smartphones are for right?

So here's the 411(how dated is that?):

Last Monday I has the pleasure of waiting in line at MSP airport for about an hour behind a lovely couple with two offspring and an geriatric in tow. About 20 minutes into our session together the couple was approached by the local NBC roving reporter to discuss the breaking news that airfare was going up. I about fell over when I heard that.

Long story short due to the Chicken of the Sea closeness I was experiencing with my adopted family I was forced to stand directly over the shoulder of Pa while he gave his two cents worth of airline economics in his Grain Belt tee shirt on air. The whole time SAGL was texting that I should be mouthing my web address and my single status into the camera. Why I didn't think about it I don't know? I could be on holiday in Israel with Sven Sungaard as we kibbutz if I had been quicker in my chukkas.

After dropping the soap for the TSA agent (who did not seem to appreciate all the work I've accomplished at boot camp) I met up with Just Joni and The HR Brigade (which is comprised of the matriarch of mi familia and her BF from their time hiring, firing and general human resources debauchery back in the day).

Fast forward to our connection flight on Aer Lingus (insert joke here) and I am seved my first official Irish meal. It came all wrapped up in pretty cellophane and aluminum foil. It was the best damn meatloaf I ever had at 38,000 feet in the air. And this meal was my deciding factor that I would track all forms of potatoes I devoured during my sojourn through the motherland. Meatloaf adjacent rehydrated potatoes were the first.

After 24 hours without sleep and an autobahn like drive down the Irish carriageways by Just Joni we found our week long home in Adare. With some investigation we landed at Pat O'Conners pub. I ate a burger and was ridiculed by family friends on Facebook for traveling to Ireland to eat a burger. Let me remind you this country turned to potatoes in a time of need and outside of Tato Skins by The Keebler Elves the potato has yet to find its time to shine. Save for French Fries of course.

Day two included really good rhubarb Greek yogurt. And we all know how much a major player rhubarb is in my life. Later in the evening myself and the Golden Girls wandered into Aunty Lena's (apparently Norway left its mark in Ireland about 110 years ago when Aunty Lena's opened). Here I ventured to prove others wrong and try local fare. Bangers and Mash (again insert joke here) it was. Two apple sausages paired with a variety of mashed potatoes all swimming in what I seriously hope was calorie free gravy.

Day three found me on a bus tour along the coast. We saw castles, big red cocks...waking the locals with its call of the wild, The Cliffs of Moher and a bull getting down and dirty with a cow thus guarantying I can have another burger sometime next year. At one stop in Doolin we doned our Ladies Who Lunch caps and woofed down some more pub fare. This time I stepped out of the comfort zone of burgers, brats and potatoes to try something new.

Lunch today was wonderful. I had a goat cheese tartlet with whiskey marmalade and caramelized onions. All on a bed of red Bibb lettuce with a vinaigrette. And of course a nice cider to chug before getting on the bus again. Please see photo above.  

Let's talk about whiskey marmalade. At one point I almost asked Just Joni to roll a €100 note and whip out a mirror because I was ready to get that sweetness into me anyway possible. I was struggling to think of a souvenir that I could pass onto SAGL and get some use out of myself and I think a case of whiskey marmalade is it. Sorry if you're reading this SAGL. And clear some shelves in the kitch before I land next week.

That brings you up to speed on my foreign food consumption. My goals before I leave next week are black and white pudding (not a dessert by the way) and prawn cocktail flavored Pringles. That's right. Shrimp cocktail flavored Pringles.

Please excuse the lack of photos and links. Or any misspellings for that matter. Give me a break I did type this with a finger on a phone in the Irish countryside. My Apple MacBook Air sponsor has yet to provide...

Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon, Dolly Parton, and Pomegranate Cupcakes

Pomegranate Cupcake with Buttercream

Pomegranate Cupcake with Buttercream

This is my first post of 2012.

According to some (my friend Colleen for one) this could be a short year. I promise to get more out here on the blog just in case that damned Mayan calendar is right.

Last nights festivities were mild. I chose to stay in with Lawyer, try some new chili (I'll put the recipe below), eat some pomegranate cupcakes, and watch Masterpiece Theater (Downton Abbey - it's everything you want in British period dramas. Namely mild gay drama, the Titanic sinking and Maggie Smith. Oh and that woman who was in that Kevin Bacon movie about having baby. See. Everything you could ever want.) I am sure you are asking why was my night not filled with wild and crazy food/booze filled fun?!?! Well Boyfriend is traveling to San Francisco to visit our friend Paty. Sister and Future Husband were busy in their neighborhood and there was a Winter Storm Warning. For those of you in the Minneapolis reading area you know this was a big deal because as of two days ago winter had not yet hit our cold weather state. So I invited Lawyer over after her hard day of volunteering and we caught up over some well deserved chili and cupcakes.

I have now spent the majority of the New Year grazing over day old cupcakes, watching way too many movies on Netflix (9 to 5 has never been so entertaining - Thank you Dolly Parton) and cleaning my kitchen. Below is the recipe for Chicken Chile given to me by Just Joni who got it from Aunt Sharon who got it from Family Friend Donna who I am sure got it from that woman on Downton Abbey that starred in that baby making film with Kevin Bacon.

New Year's Chicken Chili


Makes 11 (1 Cup) Servings.

Pomegranate Cupcakes


I must sign off now and get back to Dolly, Jane and Lily. And maybe another rogue cupcake for dinner. Have a wonderful New Year and just think about Friday's Happy Hour when you get to work tomorrow! And I promise to update in the next few days as I plan to have lunch with Baby Mama. We hope to venture out of our food box and try someplace new.