Dollarshort

Penelope at the Polish Festival

, originally uploaded by mgtrott.

Last weekend -- when the weather was much nicer than today -- we stumbled upon the opening day performance of the Golden Gate Band at the Golden Gate Park Music Concourse. We only caught the last big number, a medley of music from South Pacific, but did learn that they'd be playing at the Polish Festival the following weekend.

The only reason we stumbled onto the Concourse was because we were going to the Cal Academy and the only reason we stumbled at that exact time was because I decided not to stop and get a coffee because the line was too long. If it wasn't for those turn of events, I wouldn't have been motivated to make Penelope a traditional Polish costume from scratch (including hand-embroidered vest!) and attend this weekend's festival (celebrating Polish Constitution Day).

 

Everything came together and Pen looked ridiculously cute. While she may only be slightly Polish, she does our Grabowski blood proud.

But it's Ice and Fruit!

So apparently fro-yo is having some sort of renaissance or something. Or at least it had its big comeback last year and I just missed it because I was too busy being pregnant and craving ice cream and BBQ (not together).  All I know is that if I knew about Tuttimelon (we don't have Pinkberry up in San Francisco) when I was pregnant, I would have gained 100 pounds instead of 50. 

Quite by accident I've become addicted to probably the  biggest  item on their menu: the Shaved Ice. I thought I was ordering the delicious and modest treat popularized on islands -- ice and syrup and possibly (if I'm lucky) ice cream as a base. 

Me: Shaved ice, please.

Clerk: What flavors of fruit?

Me: Umm...for the syrup?

Clerk: Um...You can choose up to five fruits.

Me: For what?

Clerk: What?

Me: I'm sorry I don't understand what this thing is.

Clerk: You can have five fruits and pillows?

Me: What? I don't know what pillows are.

Clerk: (blank stare)

Me:  (looking at the fruit toppings) Ok, I don't understand but how about pineapple, mango and strawberry.

After all that, I got a dessert worthy of some Discovery Channel special on the morbidly obese and their favorite snacks. For $5.95, I got a layer of shaved ice swimming in condensed milk, covered with "pillows" of mochi, served with up to five fruits and topped with yogurt.

I kid you not, I needed to use two hands to carry it out of the store. When my friend saw it, she seemed shock and uttered a "what the hell?" that was totally appropriate. As you can see from the photograph, it's crazy big. I had to ask the person that I was with to hold the thing so his big man hands would give it the accurate scale it deserved.

But this thing is good. So good that I risk total humiliation each time I get one. The thing is, I always share it with someone. I've never eaten it by myself. And no, Penelope doesn't count -- I share it with adults. But because the parking situation is so unpleasant at one of its San Francisco locations, I always have to run in while Ben drives around the block. So, each and every time I have to order this massive dessert by myself and then bring it to the car. Worse yet is that the Tutti Melon we frequent is in the Marina and all the girls there are skinny and, well, not me. I get the glances that say "oh my god, is she going to eat that by herself" Or, "I thought my kid-size yogurt was too big!!"

The second-to-last time I was there I said two words to Ben: Never again.

Yeah, second-to-last time is the punch line. The biggest punch line of all is that one's planning to open in Noe Valley.

Seven Seven

Today's date (7/7) reminded me to look up the cocktail of the same name that John Travolta's character drinks in Saturday Night Fever [1]. I'm certainly no mixologist so I hadn't a clue what could possibly be in that drink. It turns out that a Seven Seven is made with Seagram's 7 whiskey and 7-up. 

[1] Incidentally, I watched Saturday Night Fever for the very first time only a couple weeks ago. It was on television and I had time to kill before heading out to Baby Loves Disco (completely unrelated to the viewing). The movie, unfortunately, only led me to be disappointed by the lack of both desire and dance skills of the babies in attendance.

Celebrating a Half-Year with Penelope

Complete with a half-cake and a half-candle.

Giant Beets

From the Ferry Plaza Farmers market, these giant beets! Ever since I had the baby, I've craved beets without end. It's amazing since I detested them previously. Even so, I couldn't convince myself that we could eat all the beet dishes one of these would yield.

Slavery? Really?

Here's something from the "marketing-tips-from-J. Peterman" department -- the Bourbon and Branch "Spring Telegram" that showed up in my inbox today. An excerpt:

RUM By Thad Volger

Pirates, Revolution, Plantations, Slavery, Communism, Smuggling, the English Navy, Colonialism, Beaches, Palm Trees. What do these all have in common? Rum! If this doesn't excite your interest, keep in mind that rum plays a key role in the evolution of what we now refer to as the cocktail...

They lost me at colonialism. Up until then, my interest was quite excited by the imagery of plantations and slavery. Even with that pitch, I'm afraid that I'm a tequila girl -- I'll drink anything that has to do with conquistadors and the massacre of indigenous cultures.

Like a Stick of Buttah

The joy of making butter comes not from the end result, but from the joy of making butter.

Up until last week, when I stumbled upon this blog written by a homeschooling family, I had no idea how easy it was to make butter. A butter churn, I thought, was something enchanted and not easily replicable in a non-farming residence. It turns out I was wrong. After doing some more research and reading up on butter making at The Wednesday Chef and Instructables, I gathered my heavy whipping cream and empty glass jar and begun the arduous task of violent shaking -- shaking for about twenty-minutes.

The process is amazing. You first get whipped cream (I actually whipped it first with a tiny mixer), then a sort of curdled cream and then it gets quite solid and impossible to shake. Finally, when you think you're already done and can't shake anymore, the contents become liquid again! Actually, that's the buttermilk. Floating within that liquid is your butter. After straining your butter and removing all liquid, you're done.

For more writing on homemade butter, check out this New York Times article from last July. Or read up on more butter stuff (Better Butter, Elements: Compound Butter on the fabulous Ruhlman.com).