Spare moments for doing anything personal is rare these days, but I think it's the normal progression of parenthood. One of the things is that you learn to sneak intimate moments of passion, by that I mean food, into any time that you find free. For example, we couple our strolls to the park with the baby along with a quick trip to the Italian bakery around the corner. This allows us the luxury to enjoy the park with a cookie or two, as we bask in the glory that is both the lingering summer sun and a napping baby.
It should come as a surprise to no one that Italian bakeries are not in the business of food fads, but rather in the delicacies of tradition. We had a few nameless buttery treats. It's like getting free directions from a stranger on the subway - nice and useful, but not some important where I seek out your name.
In the coming months, we'll take a short flight with the baby to attend a wedding of a college buddy. I can't recall anything in my recent past that has filled me both with horror and positive anticipation. Well, maybe one thing - as I got older, I never lost my appetite for fried chicken, but a full meal of said chicken started to induce a watery progression out of my anus. So I guess I do always look forward to fried chicken even if it wrecks me at this stage in life. All this to say that I plan a few posts about food in a different city in July, so stay tuned.
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