Ridiculously Proud...

...of my track building.

The picture is actually a reference for next time.

Chef Hartwell

Hartwell got this kick ass chef hat and apron from his aunt for Christmas. Last night he helped me make box mac and cheese. He likes to "read" the "steps." Bee decided to join us and I rushed to find him an apron. (I had one lying around that I bought at a thrift store to copy). Bee asked for a hat. I felt a little bad for him and then Hartwell said, "You can sew him one. In your mama room*."


*mama room: colloquial term for my sewing room, coined to keep the kids out.

Happy New Year!

 We are a young family and we're still trying out traditions. This year we gave New Year's Ribollita a whirl. Beans and greens are both supposed to bring good luck in the new year and this italian bread soup has lots of both. John made his own chicken stock for the recipe. Which makes it extra delicious. Even though the chicken stock recipe calls for store bought chicken broth.

There is a bit of family history with this soup. I call it "the f*cking soup."  (Picture it...Sicily...)I was 9 months pregnant with Hartwell, pre-named Hartwell, and John decided to make the soup for the visitors who would show up to see the baby. He was going to freeze the base so he had food while I was in the hospital and so he didn't have to cook. He used an italian recipe which was an all day situation. Meanwhile, labor started at about 9am that morning, the 13th of February. I was told to have as much of my labor as possible at home so I just kept timing myself and pacing and breathing. It started to get worse and I swear to God, he LEFT to get a missing ingredient. I was pretty much ignored for the soup because he thought I was having false labor. I was walking around the house, naked, trying to figure out if my water broke or I was peeing! And he was in the kitchen chopping fresh kale! At one point my mom called and I had to wait for a contraction to finish a sentence and she told me to call my doctor. Who told me that I was having false labor, because I didn't feel it in my back, and that she'd see me Thursday. At 7pm I finally told John he had to take me to the hospital. And he actually froze because he didn't know what to do with the soup! That. F*cking. Soup.

Got to the hospital, I was totally in labor and our pre-named Hartwell was born at 1am on Valentine's Day. Which bummed me out because everyone would think we did it on purpose. Now that I know Hartwell, it seems entirely appropriate. He's so full of love.

This time we use Ina Garten's recipe. And I hope it brings as much joy as the last batch!