A Blithe PALATE

Pug's First Birthday (The Best Year Ever)

             

Pug turned one on Friday. 

To celebrate, we drove to down to Florida, where Ong and Ba Ngoai live, and where Grandma and Grandpa happened to be visiting.  Among my most treasured photos are those of birthdays in which I was surrounded by grandparents, siblings and cousins -- a madhouse of familial cacophony.  It was a great (if deafening) indoctrination for Pug.  Pug's first birthday was spent with both sets of grandparents, Uncle Bo and numerous extended family members including second and third cousins.  Uncle Stan very nearly made it too, but had a last minute work situation arise; Aunts Hani, Souris and Kaly were in between phases of traveling but all called to wish him a happy birthday. 

When I was growing up, my mother made all of our cakes; I could not imagine outsourcing Baby's first cake so I made one based on the baby blocks cake from my shower.  The cake was a lemon pound cake with cream cheese frosting and wrapped in colored sheets of white chocolate linen, which I use in lieu of fondant.  I find the taste of fondant revolting; the chocolate linen serves the same function, but with superior flavor.

Tonight, we were at a restaurant with Ong Ba Ngoai (Grandma and Grandpa continued on their trip and will meet up again with us in two weeks) and Uncle Bo.  Our server, noting the table littered with baby toys and homemade food laughed.  "What did you ever do before a baby?" she queried.

Pug was a little more exhausted than usual; his birthday party yesterday began at 5 pm and ran through midnight, Pug conking out an hour later than his normal 8:30 pm bedtime; nestled in his sling in my arms, he rested his head on my chest and fell asleep.

What did we do before our Puggle?

We had forgotten how to appreciate the joys of discovery.  Blasé and world weary, we have rediscovered how to enjoy long-forgotten "firsts."  The first feel of rain on a cheek.  The first taste of jam.  The purring of a cat when a chubby hand is taught to stroke her back (and her startled shriek when a chubby fist grabs hold of her tail). 

We did not know that hearts can literally melt when Baby smiles his first toothy grin.

We did not know there was such good in the world; or see a world of such danger.

We woke and slept at will; but we have accepted that the giggling we hear in the morning is the best wake up call imaginable.

We worked and earned a buck, but now with direction and purpose.  Everything is for Puggle.

Before Puggle I did not know how warm a baby's body feels when he falls asleep on your chest, or how full he makes your arms feel. 

The only other thing that overflows as much is your heart, and especially when you see your husband cuddling with your son.

I could go on and on.  When Puggle was born, my aunt Lori sent me a message:  "Welcome to true love," she wrote.

So back to the question:  what did we do before Pug came along? 

We were waiting to discover this true love in the best year ever of our lives.

Breakfast with Puggle: English Muffins

Puggle is a human alarm clock.  One who rarely changes his wake up times.  For a while, we were enjoying sleep to 8:00 am.  Then one day he decided to start observing Puggle Daylight Savings Time and began waking at 7:00 am.  A few weeks after that, he shifted Puggle Standard Time again and wake up call became 6:00 am.

Imagine waking every morning with no snooze button.  But, it's hard to be grumpy when your wake up call is a smile and a happy stream of gurgling and cooing chatter.  He's a morning person, my Puggle.  Alas.

After getting dressed, Pug cruises around the kitchen in his walker while I prepare breakfast, which of late has been yogurt, and waffles, or more regularly, English muffins.

I'm deeply fond of English muffins -- so much so that after Pug was born, I was eating about 6 a day (they and Thin Mints comprised breakfast and lunch most days).  My poison of choice -- Thomas' English muffins, but only because I'd eaten them since childhood.  It wasn't until I sent Hubby out to the store one day that I discovered other, BETTER muffins.  And soon after that, I thought, surely someone has a recipe?  And of course some one did -- one of my dearest and favorite bloggers -- the wonderful Barbara at Winos and Foodies.

Her recipe is as easy as making the dough the night before and waking up to deflating, cutting and shaping the dough, then popping them in on a griddle.  Twenty minutes later, you have perfect English muffins --complete with nooks and crannies!  -- ready to be slathered with butter.  They can also be lightly toasted. 

Puggle likes his English muffins plain and warm -- no butter.  We sit at the dining room table and he waits patiently as I tear little pieces for him -- or I'll hold out a bit and he'll do his T-Rex impression:  he sinks in with his brand spanking new teeth (four on top, four on bottom) and yanks his head to one side, neatly tearing the bread.  Seriously, who knew that having a child was such a comedy show?

It being winter, it's still somewhat pinkish when we start our breakfast, but as we progress, the sun comes up and we watch the day brighten together and he swings his little feet against his chair as he eats and gabs at me, sounding out noises that will soon be words. 

I have so many mornings left in my life to sleep late; but how many of these mornings will I have to share breakfast with Puggle?  Happiness doesn't know how to be tired.

Eating Baby Food

"Prune cake?" I uttered incredulously.  I mimed gagging. 

"No, no, it's great," insisted Darcy.

Apparently prune cake was a specialty in Darcy's household and both she and her sister Allison eagerly waited for their mom to bake it for them. One of the main ingredients was a jar of baby food prune puree.  The thought of it rendered me speechless with horror.

The one and only time I ever ate this fabled prune cake was due to an inability to extricate myself gracefully from their house and leave before the cake was served.  In self defense (and to mask the taste), I piled on what amounted to a pint of vanilla ice cream on my tiny slice of prune cake.

"A la mode?" asked their dad slyly, noting the generous mound of ice cream.

"A la couture," I retorted, aware of my lack of subtlety.

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When Souris came through Georgia on her cross country trip from Boston to California, she stopped and stayed with me for an evening.  When she departed, she left a jar of Gerber's chicken noodle baby food in my fridge.  Apparently there's a predilection for baby food in my family because just recently, when I sent her out to pick up baby food for Puggle, Hani returned with a jar of pasta primavera baby food for our brother.
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Puggle began solids (purees really) at 6 months. 

He had carrots.  And he was deliriously thrilled, squealing with wild delight at the new food -- the texture, the taste -- he simply couldn't get enough.  In fact, he loves carrots so much I'm afraid he's going to turn orange from the beta carotene.

"It's good for his eyes," says Sunil.

And he has such lovely eyes, wavering between my brown and his father's hazel hue.

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At first, I thought I would be making his food - fresh, home-made puree, the way my mom did for us.  But so far, Pug's foray into solid foods has been Earth's Best and Gerber Organics.

There's a part of me that feels guilty:  I think I should be making his food - God knows I have been his sole provider since day 1 so why am I buying processed stuff?  I mean, I am dedicated enough to his organic well being that I took a breast pump with me to Ireland  and froze, saved and brought back milk for him.  I carried that backpack to Dublin ("You know, I really feel sorry for any would be thief who steals my backpack.  All he's going to get is breastmilk.") , and into the oldest bar in the world, where I pumped milk in the women's bathroom.  And I willingly endured the rage of fellow passengers when I took over the airplane bathroom to do the same.  So surely I should make my own purees for him?

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Approaching ten months old, Puggle has six baby teeth with two more coming in.  He loves the new foods I've been giving him.  He loves French Kiss melons.  He's okay with Cheerios.  He prefers Baby Mum Mum rice crackers - he likes to snap and crunch the small pieces between his teeth.  He loves avocados.  He didn't like pureed peas.  I tried them.  I didn't like them either.

He's a social baby.  He enjoys eating at the dinner table with conversation going.  He isn't happy when we feed him by himself.  He likes a party.

He loves prunes.  He does.  I wonder to myself what he would think of prune cake?