Day 247

"Is it the weekend yet?" In the last half-year or so, Jules has been trying to wrap his head around the days of the week, what they mean.* It's taken a while for him to grasp the idea that, on Friday, the answer about whether it's the weekend or not is half-yes. And half-no. 

((Tangentially related side note: When I ask Kai, "when did you become such a big boy?" he answers without hesitation, "Tuesdays." Not Tuesday. Tuesdays. Plural. Every time. And every time, it cracks me up.))

But the answer to Julian's "weekend?" question becomes a solid yes at about 6:30 a.m. on Saturday. And more often than not, "weekend" Jonic-style kicks off in the kitchen, where we make pancakes while Vivaldi, or Miles Davis or Vampire Weekend plays on the under-the-cabinet Sony CD player that I pretty much consider one of my best purchases ever (you can plug an iPod into it too).

Jules does much of the pancake making now - which goes well until Kai
attempts to act as the sous sous chef.

The specific sort of pancakes we make varies depending on whether Jon or I is executive-cheffing (today it was me ... Jon had a bonfire/movie night/sleepover with a bunch of this friends). When I'm in charge, I use this recipe, which is my (healthified) variation of one in the 1975 edition Joy of Cooking, a 36th birthday gift from Kate.

Here it is: 

1 cup whole wheat pastry flour

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

3/4 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

2 cups of buttermilk (I usually end up making it by mixing 2 TBSP lemon juice into 2 cups of 1% milk because I always forget to buy buttermilk. This should be your first step as you need to let it sit for 10 minutes or so.)

1 egg

2 TBSP canola oil

2 TBSP honey (I always measure the oil first. It lubes the measuring spoon so the honey slips right off)

I mix the dry ingredients. Beat together the wet ingredients. Combine, then cook them up on the griddle. I serve them with Vermont maple syrup and fruit. Today, it was strawberries and cantaloupe.

Note: This batter is thin - not great for holding the Mickey Mouse shapes that Julian always requests - but no one seems to mind. Today, Jules declared these pancakes his favorite in the whole world. Win.

Day 5

Very big-girl day. Refinanced our house. Took Jules to the doctor for a mysterious rash. (He's fine. Rash, still a mystery). Hired an electrician to save our home for imminent fire. Seriously. Take it from me: If your lights have been flickering for a month, call an electrician ASAP no matter what anyone else says. I have taken over all electrical responsibilities at our house.

Also, I received the MOST thoughtful birthday gift from my sis, Kate: Joy of Cooking, 1975 edition. (Recall: the year I was born).

See?

I have a humungous cookbook collection. But, bizarrely, until today, I did not own Joy of Cooking. I may have mentioned that I wanted it. I may have... and maybe even that I'd heard one of the older editions was better. (I think my wise co-worker Stacy, who manages EatingWell's Test Kitchen told me this.) Or I maybe I didn't say anything at all. But Kate knew it'd be the perfect gift.

When I told Jon about Kate's awesome gift, this was his response: "What the f*ck? You're f*cking kidding me. That girl is totally out of line with her 'perfect' presents."(Note: Jon loves my sis. Perhaps more than he loves me. In a totally appropriate way, of course.)

Huh?

Turns out, Jon had ordered the exact same thing for me for Christmas, just hours earlier.  I seriously don't recall talking about wanting to get this book so this coincidence is totally blowing my mind still hours later. Anyway, Jon cancelled the order, noting that his reason for the return was, "My wife's sister bought my wife this very same book for her birthday. Now I, her husband, am left trying to figure out what to buy her for Christmas." Oh. I might note that it is our (mine and Jon's) tradition to buy each other a book (one that has some significance) for Christmas.

So today I have no trouble identifying the targets of my gratitude: the two people who seem to know me better than I know myself. Oh, and the man who saved our home from catching fire.