This has been a weekend of gastronomical adventures, most good, one just plain awful. We began with our church congregation's annual Christmas party. This year, an intrepid committee (organized but not run by me, thankfully!) decided to put on A Night in Bethlehem. There were lots of activities and the usual Nativity program (of which we were a part as Mary and Joseph but of which we will never speak again), but the real star was the food. The committee had made the best tabouleh I've ever had, two kinds of homemade hummus, dill yogurt dip, and artisan flat bread from scratch, along with dates, prunes, oranges, feta, olives, grape juice, and (the ever authentic) mini-cheesecakes for dessert. We ate on the gym floor and I must have eaten my weight in hummus and bread. J was also a fan of the bread and the various dips and ate contentedly on the floor right along with us. It was fun, filling, and fabulous!
The next day, we went out for Indian food to satisfy my cravings. Under normal circumstances, Indian is one of the cuisines I love the most. I can honestly say there are very few Indian dishes I've ever had that I didn't enjoy, and there are many, many more that I love. Indian food is my ethnic food of choice, my go to cuisine when inspiration for eating out fails. I have fond memories of assorted little Indian dives in Delaware, Pennsylvania, and South Carolina, along with global locales in England. Last time I was pregnant, I ate often at a place close to work and enjoyed every saucy ounce. This time, we went to another buffet that was just as good, but my body is apparently not in a place where it wants to savor the flavor of Indian. Instead, later that night I was attacked by killer cramps and massive gastrointestinal distress of such force it surprised even me, no stranger to these sorts of things. I'll spare you all the gory details, but I will tell you I am swearing off Indian for quite some time to give everyone time to recover. And by everyone, I mainly mean me and Baby #2, who was sorely put out with the whole adventure.
Undaunted, later that evening as a sort of semi-anniversary celebration, we watched Julie and Julia and had dreams of boeuf bourguignon and stuffed duck and lots and lots of butter. I enjoyed the movie, though I agree with many of the critics I read who said the Julia Child bits were far superior to the Julie bits. But when it's Amy Adams against Meryl Streep, did the poor girl really have a chance? We both liked Julia's story and would have liked to have seen more of it, but as it was, we had a good time. French cuisine is NOT one of my faves, so I, unlike the husband, was not inspired to go make some whereas he really wants to debone and stuff a duck and wrap it in pastry now. More power to him, I say, but send me to a hotel first so I don't have to watch all the problems that will undoubtedly ensue and clean up the kitchen afterwards!