HOW TO DEAL WITH NEWBIE PARENTS (A PARABLE)

Over the Christmas holidays I had an Italian friend visiting with her husband and 2-year-old son. I love them all dearly, and it was great to speak my native language daily and relax into the comfort of our shared cultural background. From the very beginning, though, I had to struggle with the evident difference between my life as a mother of two and my friend's life as a mother of one. Let's see how it went.

My friend's child spent his time adorably playing by himself, going on fun museum outings with his parents on public transportation, showcasing his amazing potty-training abilities, and recounting his adorably inventive imaginary adventures with the sweetest voice ever. In two weeks, he cried TWICE. My friend was calm, competent, and rigorous at all times. 

My kids spent their time screaming for joy or anger, begging for clementines at all hours of the day while refusing to eat during proper mealtimes, and generally displaying their territorial nature with the ferocity of male teenage Komodo dragons. At various intervals, they would toss off their clothes and run naked up and down the stairs, throwing toy cars at each other. All the while, my parenting action was limited to sighing, changing diapers, picking up scattered underwear, and occasionally pleading them to be "gentle". I collapsed on the couch A LOT.

...

Frankly, it was embarrassing. As a Xmas host, I should have provided my guests with a safe winter haven filled with joy and family fun rather than a tableau vivant of squalor and despair only to be photographed in the starkest of B/W. My knee-jerk reaction, of course, was to reject any guilt and toll the "you-just-wait" bell, but I knew that would have made me feel even worse. What right did I have to burst my friend's happy parenting bubble by telling that her beautiful family was just a delusion ready to be destroyed completely and permanently by any additional spawn?

I looked at my friend, all fresh and innocent, and caught a glimpse of my old efficient self in the half-forgotten years when I only had one child. When MiniBee was the sole center of my world, I was the one folding cloth diapers. I was the one setting weekly playdates at the zoo and making homemade yogurt topped with freshly-grated apples. I was the one insisting that we have a full meal at the table and we seldom or never watch TV. Yes, dear friend. I was once young and beautiful, too.

So what happened? What came that transformed me from a busy mother into this zombie of dejection, capable only of refilling Cheerios and shaking her head slowly?

Well, Microbee happened. I know that. But I also know that I can do better, even just a tiny bit. I might not be ready to take both kids on a museum outing on public transportation—fuck that—but I can go back to some of the principles I once had. I can start with food, for example. Take my friend: She is a stickler for fresh vegetables. Once she served us grated beets and, to my complete surprise, my kids loved them—especially when they learned their poop would turn red. How great is that?

A gory close-up of your kid's new favorite snack.

From now on I can grate beets for lunch, and watch my kids eat vegetables happily while sitting at the table. Their smiles will shine through their red-stained faces, and suddenly they will look like zombies just like me, and it will feel wonderful.

So if you have 2+ kids, don't look at newbie parents as lucky bastards who have it all easy. Just try to be inspired. I believe that, as mothers and fathers (of any number of kids), we are all on our individual journey of discovery and humiliation, reaching each stage at our own speed. Some of us will enjoy more breaks than others, but it really doesn't matter. Because one day, we will all be there together, calling our adult, well-adjusted and ungrateful kids on the phone just hear it ring again and again without answer... deep into the bottomless void of our self-sacrifice.

DEAD CHEF'S BEST OF FOOD IN DC (AND BEYOND)

A pork bao from People's Bao

To celebrate the 20th consecutive year I put "eat better and exercise more" at the top of my New Year's resolutions, I decided to scrap that resolution altogether and replace it with something more achievable. No, it won't be "complain and procrastinate" (even though I'm tremendously successful at both), but "open up and learn", which is inspirational and vague, hence, totally within reach.

I'll start with the "open up" part by giving you my personal list of the 20 best foods in and around DC. I know lists are more popular at the end of the year, but this is not a closure, it's a beginning. End-of-the-year lists are judgmental, whereas start-of-the-year lists are optimistic, and generous.

You're welcome.

For what concerns the "learn" part, I hope you readers will want to share your most beloved foods with me. I don't go out as often as I would want, but give me an edible target, and I'll jump on it on my next outing, whenever that might be.

But let's move on the list. I based my picks solely on personal preference and not on any high-cuisine standards. Some foods come from fancy restaurants, but there's comfort food from stands and cozy neighborhood spots, too. Every dish hits a different spot for me, whether I'm out for dinner with Mr Bee or desperate to pull some happiness out of my cranky kids on rainy weekend mornings. There is a lot of meat, I'm afraid, mostly because I'm basically a home vegetarian and a partying carnivore, but I promise I'll expand my horizons in the future. Foods are listed alphabetically, and you really shouldn't ask me to choose a favorite: They're all like my children to me.

DEAD CHEF'S BEST OF FOOD

1. BARA CHIRASHI SET @ SUSHI TARO
17th Street

I've been to Sushi Taro for four amazing dinners since its transformation into a high-end restaurant, but lunch is still my very personal treat, one I try to enjoy when I can extricate myself from parental responsibilities. Chirashi—a box of rice topped with all kinds of raw fish—is my go-to choice. A bountiful explosion of quality, bathed in natural light, that makes me as happy as a little girl in a Rainbow Brite theme park.

2. BUTTERMILK BISCUIT @ REPUBLIC
Takoma Park

I'm done with brunch. And not only because we are all kind of done with brunch, but also because brunch for me is mostly an imposition from my visiting parents who think my kids are ready for a sit-down meal at a proper restaurant. Of course, at 11am the kids are not hungry yet, so Mr Bee and I just spend the time sequestering knives and salt shakers from them, cleaning up spills on and under the table, blowing dust off tater tots that had fallen to the ground and that our kids deem still absolutely edible, and eating a medically worrisome amount of scrambled eggs (leftover and not). The only exception to this horror is brunch at Republic, because somehow the decor captivates my children enough to keep them calm, and because their fresh buttermilk biscuits are deliciously salty and flakey, and such a far cry from standard, lazy brunch fare that I can pretend—in my butter haze—that my kids are amazingly well-behaved, and that I am indeed a great mother. Scrambled eggs are soft and cheesy, too, so this brunch becomes definitely worth the effort.

3. BLACK BEAN NOODLES AND GARLIC CHICKEN WINGS @ DA RAE WON
Beltsville

I was introduced to this gem of a Korean-Chinese restaurant by a couple of dear gourmand friends a couple of years ago, and it's still a beloved destination for my family. The noodles are pulled to order (you can watch the chef at work as soon as your waiter communicates your order) and are served with a glistening black bean sauce that everybody of every age I know adores. The garlic chicken wings plate consists in a massive pyramid of crispy chicken wings topped with garlic and sticky sweet sauce. I'm pretty sure Mr Bee would happily live on those for the rest of his life.

4. CALZONE VERDE @ MENOMALE
Brookland

Almost 6 years ago, I knew right away I was having a boy when I suddenly started ordering calzones left and right. Without that instinctive ordering choice, I would have never enjoyed this masterpiece. This is by far the best calzone I've had, served by the most authentic Neapolitan pizzeria in town. Ham, mushroom, mozzarella, and pesto make for a very delicious filling, and I'll stab you with my Pizza scissors if you try to steal the soft calzone corners from me.

5. COMET HOT WINGS @ COMET PING PONG 

Forest Hills

I'm not the biggest wings fan, but these deserve a standing ovation. These dark and spicy and vinegary chicken wings are fall-off-the bone delicious and served with a thin horseradish sauce that stares down with due contempt at all other wing sauces you might have encountered before. Let me just say it: Wings at Comet are so delicious, they almost taste like pork.

6. CROISSANT @ LE CAPRICE
Columbia Heights

It was mystifying to me to come to the United States and see that most croissants look like worn-out slippers. Really, though, why are they so pale, deflated, and depressing? And the flavor? Sometimes they taste like burger buns laced with margarine. Le Caprice does a pretty good job of delivering fresh croissants that are buttery and crumbly and shapely, and it's a pleasure to have one while sitting in their sun-filled room, possibly in the company of a very happy toddler whom you're initiating to the joys of French patisserie. Other pastries at Le Caprice are also good, and I'm personally partial to the Pain aux Raisins, but I'd ask if they are freshly baked before you order (if you catch my drift).

7. DUCK BAO @ PEOPLE'S BAO
Mt. Pleasant Farmers' Market

This is a farmers' market stand that I originally found at Eastern Market, and what a find that was. I tried the pork bao, a pillowy soft steamed dumpling filled with a hefty portion of slow-cooked, ever-so-juicy pork. I was having one of those awful weekend mornings that parents know so well, and this beautiful bao immediately washed all my anger and depression away with its greasy esophageal caress. On a subsequent visit, I tried the duck version, and was in love.

8. HAM SANDWICH IN ON ONION ROLL @ MGM ROAST BEEF

Brentwood

There should be more places like this: Big delis with massive hunks of slow-roasted meats on the counter, hand-carved to order to deliver you a most satisfying sandwich. Roast beef, ham, turkey, and brisket rest gloriously on the counter, ready for your order. A neighborhood gem if you live in Brentwood, but worth a trip from elsewhere, too.

9. HANGER STEAK @ RAY'S THE STEAKS
Arlington

I am still mourning the old location of Ray's the Steaks on Wilson Blvd, because it had the effortless and competent charm of modern Italian trattorias, but, as they say, whatever. Ray's does meat beautifully and affordably, and this tougher but super-flavorful cut is one of my favorites. Personally, I list the smell of charred hanger steak as one of my favorite perfumes. If you share my passion, do yourself a favor and try this one.

10. HONEY GOAT CHEESECAKE @ ROOM 11
Columbia Heights

Pastry Chef Lizzy Evelyn graced DC with this beloved cheesecake that, in my opinion, is a mile above any other cheesecake I've ever eaten here and elsewhere. Gone is the chalky heaviness of regular cheesecake (sorry, it's true), and in comes a new, sweet and tangy creaminess. It's one dessert you're allowed to close your eyes in delight with every bite, even though that makes it easier for your fellow diners to steal a spoonful.

11. HOUSE-MADE TOFU AND WILD MUSHROOM CURRY @ DOI MOI
U St

It was hard to pick one dish from this Southeast Asian restaurant on 14th Street, because I love everything I've tried there, and believe me, I've tried a lot. I'm choosing this vegan curry because someone else ordered it but I stole half of it (at least). It was so much more flavorful than I'd thought, and a joyful reminder of how great wild mushrooms can actually taste. Doi Moi is one of those restaurants where you're already planning your next visit when you're halfway through your meal.

12. LAMB SANDWICH @ RED TOQUE CAFÈ
Shaw

Staff at Red Toque might squirm a bit when you place your sandwich order because they're trying to promote their regular menu, but until they start making their sandwiches less delicious, it's going to be very hard for me to stray from this lamb marvel. This Indian/Middle Eastern restaurant serves a lamb sandwich made of chunky, juicy, and spicy meat pieces and fresh vegetables, all wrapped in a soft and buttery naan that I believe has been slathered in mayo. Yeah, mayo. It's a sandwich straight out my hungry subconscious.

13. YELLOWTAIL JAW @ IZAKAYA SEKI 

U St

I picked the yellowtail jaw because it's wonderful, but really, any other fish dish from this informal Japanese treasure would have done. Izakaya Seki reminds to us all that good fish is actually SWEET, and I'm forever thankful for that. I don't know why it is so hard to buy fresh fish in DC (recommendations?), and my first bite of fish at Izakaya Seki was basically a Proustian madeleine for someone like me who grew up on the Mediterranean Sea. But really, the whole menu is filled with happy surprises. Oh, and they serve one of my top-5 favorite foods: Ankimo, or monkfish liver. Just go.

14. PECAN WAFFLE @ CAPITAL CITY CHEESECAKE

Takoma Park

I stopped eating waffles because I learned they are, more often than not, just the dried-out cousins of my beloved pancakes. I'm happy I made an exception for this. The waffle is only slightly crispy on the outside but rich and creamy on the inside, and the pecans add that coffeeish kick that turns the plate into the perfect weekend breakfast. A side note: The rooms of CCC are covered in happy, inspirational quotes in curly font that are so very Takoma Park. Just FYI.

15. PERUVIAN CHICKEN @ EL POLLO RICO 

Arlington

I have the fondest memory of the rotisserie my family used to visit in my Italian hometown when I was a child. You could smell the chicken from around the block, and boy, was that intoxicating to me even then. I would stand there, properly mesmerized by the rows of chickens twirling in unison while engulfed by flames behind the counter, savoring in my mind my upcoming Sunday meal. The charchoal-broiled chicken from El Pollo Rico is a closed second to that (sorry, nothing beats childhood memories): tender, juicy, the skin crispy an heavily spiced. Don't miss out on the steak fries or the coleslaw.

16. PHO AND YOUNG COCONUT DRINK @ PHO 75
Arlington

I love restaurants focused on one dish, especially if they make it great as in this Arlington spot. Barring the line outside, you're quickly served a very fragrant soup that I imagine comes from massive vats of beautiful meat broth simmering forever in the kitchen. When I'm in a good mood, I drink a young coconut and mourn my 27 years spent in Italy not knowing that coconut can be soft.

17. 14'' PIZZAS @ LA VILLA
14th Street Heights

More pizza! This is a delivery spot, though. I love this pizza joint because their dough is elastic and irresistible and the topping variety is so much better than most of their competitors. The extra-large pizzas are great, but I find that the 14'' ones have the perfect ratio of cheese to dough. My favorite toppings are portabella mushroom and ricotta, but there are some great others to choose from (caramelized onions, roasted eggplants, etc.).

18. SHRIMP FRITTERS AND BALISONG @ BAD SAINT
Columbia Heights

There's nothing I didn't like from the long list of items ordered during my dinner at Filipino restaurant sensation Bad Saint. But, when I fantasize about ordering a dinner to-go to avoid the long line (can it be done?), I'd ask for someone to throw me a Ukoy, a gigantic fried nest of sweet potatoes and leeks with shrimps trapped inside. It's food that is as beautiful as it is addictive. I'd wash it down with a Balisong, a version of a Manhattan with coconut liqueur that will make you sing. And since you're brave, order the pig tails, too. You won't regret it.

19. TUSCAN BREAKFAST @ HIGHLANDS
14th Street

A sun-drenched neighborhood spot everybody loves. The food is great, but this Tuscan breakfast is amazing. It's composed of a portabella mushroom, eggs of your choice, and a cheesy little brick of yellow polenta that is to die for. And I'm Venetian, so I know polenta. The only caveat is that the polenta is much better when it's freshly made, so you might want to ask what the deal is before you order. Everything else I've been there looks great, especially the chicken and waffles, but I'm still bound to the polenta. It's a genetic call, I guess.

20. WOOD OVEN-ROASTED BONE MARROW @ BLUE DUCK TAVERN 

West End

I went to BDT for the first time when MiniBee was 8 months, and that was the first time I had left the house at dark after his birth. The scintillating lights glowing through my champagne cocktail filled me with happiness, but still couldn't compete with the perfect simplicity of the bone marrow, easily one of my favorite things to eat in the world. I know you can find this elsewhere, but here the bones are chosen for the best amount of jiggly, cloudy marrow, and the salty condiment just exalts the soft butteriness of the dish. Pass the bread.

And if you want my take on pizza in DC, don't miss Dead Chef's Best Pizza in the DC Area.

MY BEEF WITH EVOLUTION

The Italian theory of evolution

I was born in the mid-70s in Italy, which means my childhood was spent during the economic boom of the 80s (Alpine vacations in winter AND summer) and my adolescence and young adult years in the cozy and undemanding arms of modern technology. Between a game of Simon, a text message, and a Napster download, I never found the time or reason to question whether my body truly represented the latest model of an evolutionary process started 15 million years ago (I'm talking about human evolution). Given how quickly I could recover from hangover, I just assumed it did.

Everything changed after my pregnancy and the birth of MiniBee, experiences that compelled me to test the process of reproduction, which I believe biology still considers the main goal of human existence. My first stance towards the experience was one of great curiosity and excited anticipation, but after only a year that stance had turned to one of bewilderment. I have to say, human reproduction really doesn't seem as well-planned as popular science wants us to believe. The so-called "miracle of birth" seems more to me like a half-assed experiment, an unconvincing and unconvinced attempt at evolutionary success, a random dart thrown drunkenly at the future in an attempt to somehow cope with the harsh demands of natural selection. Perhaps this shouldn't surprise me, but Mother Nature has revealed herself to be just like any other parent: godlike and omnipotent at first, but ultimately just a mom, tired and overwhelmed, with eyes filled with disillusionment. I can't help but to imagine our confrontation.

ME: "Mom, was this really the best plan your could think of? Stuffing women with a 9-lb meatloaf that has to come out of their vaginas?"
MOTHER NATURE: "Oh, stop it. You have no idea how busy I was, and how hard I had to work. Do you think humans are the only ones I have to take care of? You don't hear the lemmings complain, and I have them jumping off a fucking cliff. And remember, your father is never around."
ME: "My father?!?"
MOTHER NATURE: "You humans call him God, which is frankly kind of rich, given that he left me completely alone to take care of you, the house, and all the animals."
ME: "Are you telling me that God exists?!? Where is He now?"
MOTHER NATURE:"I told you a million times already, but you never, ever listen. He left. He made this world in six days, this wonderful world of whales and gemstones and instincts and quantum particles. That was just one of his projects back in the day. Did you think he was going to just magically settle down and help me raise you all? No, of course not! He's too much of an artist to be a parent. Mr Know-It-All needs to create! And I was stupid enough to support him... Now leave me alone. I need a smoke."
ME: "Do you smoke cigarettes?!?"
MOTHER NATURE: "Are you crazy? With those prices? I'll just inhale some of the carbon dioxide you kids have kindly provided me with. Now leave me alone! It's November, for fuck's sake. Shouldn't you start collecting acorns for you den?"
ME: "Are you talking about squirrels?"
MOTHER NATURE: "Whatever."

But I still have lots of questions! Well, I have three actually.

PREGNANCY DIET

Wooly mammoths needs to be cooked to
a 145F temp for safe consumption.

Right from the bat, women are saddled with a punitively long pregnancy during which they are at increased risk for listeria (18 times more likely than general population, according to this). What is the purpose of this immune weakness? Women are growing another human inside their bodies: bone, muscle, brain tissue and whatever else is there. Shouldn't their immune system be at its strongest? And mostly, shouldn't they be able to eat whatever they want, raw or cooked, especially when their strongest instinct is to eat any and everything they see or even imagine?

GIANT BRAIN, STILL USELESS

The human advantage and a tricky storage problem.

Okay, you know this. We humans have developed massive heads to contain our massive brains, and we are born basically premature otherwise we would never make it out of the birth canal from the neck up. This makes human birth more difficult and painful than for most animals, and results in human newborns who can't literally do anything. A foal will stand and walk right after birth, but babies take weeks just to focus enough to see there's more to our faces than a nose. Still, I have to wonder how a species who has to told their tiny babies for one or two years or more was able to survive this long. How is a woman supposed to gather (as in "hunt and gather") with a child constantly attached to her?

HELLO, TIGER! WE'RE HERE!

First they're screaming and now they're drawing on the walls?
When is this day going to end?

Why do children cry so much, and so loudly? This doesn't make any sense to me. Why on earth would an insignificant, tiny, clawless, non-poisonous being call so much attention on itself? If I were a cave woman, hidden in said cave, freaked out and exhausted after birth and waiting for someone to deliver my Paleo dinner, the last thing I want is for my baby to advertise its juicy presence to all saber-tooth predators for miles around. And babies do not scream only in their infancy. In fact, their loudest and most irrational cries happen in toddlerhood and early childhood, when I would think a mother would want to leave her cave to go back to gathering (as in "hunting and gathering"). Why can't babies simply whimper quietly and adorably like newborn kittens? How great that would be?

IS HOME COOKING ANTI-FEMINIST? AN ITALIAN PERSPECTIVE

At the end of last year there was a resurgence of articles questioning the feminist or anti-feminist nature of home cooking. The debate is not new, but it flared up in response to the publication of "The Joy of Cooking?" (the article is not longer available for free, so buy it here or read about it here), an article by three sociologists from North Carolina State University that was based on their interviews with 150 black, white, and Latina mothers and on over 250 hours of observation of 12 working-class mothers dealing with cooking and family life.

The article was quite discouraging for those who believe America should embrace home cooking in the name of public health and a lesser environmental impact. What emerged from it is that mothers, even when they hold full-time jobs, are still the ones saddled with cooking and all its implications, from meal planning to grocery shopping, from making the time for cooking to cleaning afterwards. To make matters worse, the onerous home-cooked meal stands a good chance of being rejected by the kids AND the husband, so the whole ordeal might end up in a maddening waste of time, energy, and money. The mothers' uphill battle is not only confined within their homes: Junk food is advertised everywhere and easily available, and school cafeterias most often serve just that (it reminded me of a comment in the movie Fed Up, defining some schools today as "7-11's with books"), so convincing their children to start eating healthy, home-cooked meals becomes a near impossible task.

To be fair, the article never uses the terms "feminist" or "anti-feminist" to define the problem, but much of the debate that sparked from it posed that very question. Is home-cooking feminist? The debate intrigued me. I've often heard Italian mothers complain that they have to do all the cooking, but I had never seen the blame being put on home cooking. In fact, home cooking is still upheld as one of the best things Italians have accomplished, and I've always agreed. But should I? I started thinking about my Italian experience with home cooking, about its rituals, meaning, and consequences on Italian family life. As you may already know, food in Italy is pretty much sacred, and most Italians are very educated (and opinionated) about nutrition. We have a great, incredibly varied cuisine that spans from the very simple to the refined, from the perfectly healthy to the obscenely sweet and/or fat. Is cooking for Italian women a source joy, a necessary chore, or just a tool of oppression? I decided to talk a little bit about food culture and home cooking in Italy to see if it could help shed some light on the American cooking conundrum.

The following considerations come from my personal experience (I do not work full time at the moment, but I was raised by a mother who did) and that of a few Italian female friends I spoke to who were raised by full-time working parents or are working mothers themselves.

HOME COOKING IN ITALY

How Do Italians View Food? 

Of course you know this, but I have to say it: Italy is a food-centric nation. Italian cuisine is exceptionally varied and relies on a fantastic quantity of amazing produce for each season. It is also worth remembering that Italians' rural past is just a couple of generations away. Almost all Italians have strong connections to people growing produce or raising livestock, be it in their family or in or around the place they live in. In my personal experience, even though I grew up in the city with two full-time working parents, my family would often stay at my grandfather's home in Tuscany, which had a small farm right behind it where my sister and I would pick fresh fruit and eggs, help with the animals, and occasionally be given the chance to milk a cow.

How Does Home Cooking Work in Italy? 

I would say the vast majority of families eat mostly home-cooked meals during the week, although, compared to previous generations, they tend to prepare easier and quicker meals (home-made pasta is a treat to make once in a while) and eat out more than in the past. Cooking skills are passed on from generation to generation, and even if you were not interested in cooking or your parents were less insistent on your learning (that would be me), Italy as a whole is permeated by a constant conversation about food and its preparation. You cannot be immune to that information: You are going to pick up at least the basic techniques, recommended ingredients and combinations, meal planning ideas, nutritional information, etc.

Who Cooks? 

Mostly women. Men in my family did grocery shopping and some of the cooking, but I know that was not the norm among my acquaintances. I have to be honest about this: Italian culture is still deeply sexist, and men are not expected to provide any help in the kitchen. In fact, some of my male friends grew up never once helping around the house whereas their sisters were absolutely expected to. Italian men may cook for their own pleasure or on special occasions, but it's not common to see them actively participating in every aspect of meal planning, preparation, and cleanup. I know the situation has evolved, but we can't talk about equality yet.

Is it easy to eat healthy food in Italy? 

Yes, and the reason is simple: Produce is still the cheapest option in Italy. Even in the expensive Northeast where I come from, you can subscribe to a CSA to provide you with organic produce for a family of four for 7 euros a week. Non-organic produce is even cheaper and readily available in markets.

How Do People Shop for Groceries in Italy?

Today many Italians might visit a supermarket once a week like Americans, but up to the 1990s (when big distribution really took off in Italy) the situation was different. Italian cities and towns were still densely packed with small specialized grocery stores where people could by quality local food easily and cheaply. Small stores disseminated all over the cities made for frequent but quick visits that allowed for a pantry populated with fresh food. Even though today many of the small grocery stores have closed, especially in the North, people still tend to have quick and easy access to a wide variety of foods in their neighborhoods and towns.

Do Italian Children Eat Everything? 

No, they don't. Some of them do, but just as in the United States, many children have very definite preferences and aversions that need to be defended at all costs. Yet, junk food in Italy is much less available compared to the United States, and society expectations on children's diets are higher (Italian restaurants do not serve kids meals, except for smaller individual pizzas), so I think Italian children tend to grow up appreciating a wider variety of foods.

What Food is Served in Italian Schools? 

There might be some debate about accessibility and quality of Italian school cafeterias, which are only present in preschool and elementary school (from middle school onwards, Italian kids are mostly home for lunch), but food options in school cafeterias are much healthier than in the United States. It's unthinkable for a school to offer fast-food items to children, and desserts are generally absent (fruit tends to end a meal). Mealtime in Italian school is seen more and more as an opportunity to teach children about healthy behaviors. It doesn't work all the time, but at least the school cafeteria is not sabotaging the parents' efforts.

What's the general opinion about junk food? 

Italians have always had a strong stance against processed food, so fast-food never really took off in Italy like it did in the United States. I actually remember the uproar when the first McDonald's opened in my town in the early 1990s: Even as a teen willing to try the greasiest of foods, I knew very well that was unhealthy and could never become a staple in my diet. Also, a McDonald's meal was still much more expensive than better-quality food made at home, so the appeal was simply not there. I would say that, for Italians, junk food is a guilty pleasure to be enjoyed in moderation, but hardly a meal-replacement option to be consumed several times per month (this survey suggests that about 39% of Italians practically never eat at fast-food restaurants).

My conclusion 

So this is it. I offer no solutions, no great idea for steering America back towards home-cooking, and especially on how to help working American and Italian women lessen their burden. And yet... Even though Italy is a sorry mess of a country, economically and morally, I do think that the Italian experience might have something to teach us at least in terms of availability (both economic and physical) and a proud culture of healthy eating.

Personally, I think cooking is a wonderful skill. I know, I have a food blog, so of course I'd say that. But I also really believe there's something magical about the way cooking can make us healthier, happier and bring us together. Good ingredients, a touch creativity, and a table with family and friends to celebrate a great day or to gather in silence after a horrible one. It is a gift of health, human connection, and time. And also, there are so many practical skills we can learn and share with our kids, and home cooking is one of the easiest to tackle.

If I think about the gender implications of home cooking, I wouldn't say that home cooking is in itself anti-feminist but that serious issues of gender inequity surround and complicate the matter. In fact, as I reread the original article, I have a nagging feeling that one real problem was left unexplored. I never see fathers questioned about their role in all of this. Once again, this looks to me like it's being presented as a women's issue rather than a family issue. Sure we should indict an economic system and a food culture that pushes junk food before healthy food, but why are fathers never mentioned, never asked to participate? Home cooking can greatly contribute to improve the health of the Italian families, but we can't expect mothers to do all the work.

YOU'RE READING MY DIARY

BUSBOYS AND POETS?

Before last week, I had never been to Busboys and Poets, the DC "community gathering place" where you can eat and read (my favorite pastimes). So when Mr Bee woke up on Sunday and suggested I take two hours away from the kids to have coffee by myself somewhere, I got dressed and ready in 10 seconds flat, grabbed my laptop, and rushed to the new Busboys and Poets location in Takoma, DC. When I got there, the place was packed, but I saw one free tables in the café section, albeit with a few dirty cups from the previous patrons. I asked the hostess if I could sit there and plug my battery-pauper laptop, and she said yes. Ten minutes passed with me standing in front of my dirty table, so eventually I picked the cups, put them on the bar, and sat down only to realize there was no outlet to plug in my laptop. The waitress finally came and acknowledged the lack of outlets. We looked at each other in the eyes for a long instant, and then I told her I would go somewhere else. As I left the place, a little confused and a little sad, I realized the last thing I expected from a place called "Busboys and Poets"  was to have to bus my own table and leave. So the only appropriate thing to do was to write my own poem as well. That'll teach them.

Dear hostess,
Are you useless?
Or just smarter than me?
'Cause I cleaned up your table
And did not get my tea.

DONE WONDERING

MicroBee is in the sunny last line. 

A couple of weeks ago, in a moment of boredom, I was perusing the apps on my smartphone when I opened the "baby" folder and found again The Wonder Weeks, the companion app to the bestselling infant development book of the same name. For those who might not be familiar with it, the Wonder Weeks are ten stages of mental development that all infants go through on their way to becoming accomplished toddlers. A Wonder Week is an amazing mental "leap" during which your child becomes magically able to master new physical, mental, and emotional skills. Unfortunately, each Wonder Week is preceded by an exhausting period of extreme, unforgiving, back-breaking rage and neediness from said genius child that I believe the authors were too chicken to call The Month of Shit. It is the other side of the infant coin. In any case, according to the app chart, my 18-month-old MicroBee has finally emerged from the rollercoaster of mental growth-spurts that are The Wonder Weeks. So I guess my parenting will be downhill from here. *pats own shoulder* 

BIOMETRICS BUMMER

I'm currently in the process of becoming a US citizen, and the second step, after submitting all of the paperwork, is getting fingerprinted and photographed for the so called biometrics. I went through this process once already when I applied for my green card, and the experience was marred by my assigned officer complaining multiple times about my "greasy, greasy thumbs" that were preventing her from collecting my fingerprints. This time, I arrived all clean and made-up, and with perfectly degreased thumbs, only to be told that my bangs could not be in the photograph. I had two hairpins with me, but no mirror, so I started pinning my bangs back blindly with very poor results. How do I know the results were poor? Because this time my assigned officer had a laughing fit while looking at my image on the screen. And when I told her, "I don't want to see how I look," she answered, "Yeah, YOU DON'T WANT TO SCARE YOURSELF." Oh well, so much for my hopes of gaining that world-famous American confidence through naturalization. I guess I'll be the eyesore in America the Beautiful. 

SPIDERMAN, SPIDERMAN...

Forgive this silly post, but the entire family is sick and suffering from massive sleep deprivation, so this is the best I can do. As some of you may know, I am ambivalent about superheroes and their unironic stronghold on the contemporary male psyche. I really hope children will grow less obsessed than their fathers with high-flying musclemen dealing with unresolved childhood traumas. To speed up the process, I've started my own little campaign of placing superheroes into a more rational perspective. It all began when I revealed to my Italian nephew that the name Wolverine is not a play on the word "wolf", but it refers to an actual skunk-like species whose name in Italian is gulo gulo, which sounds a lot like "ass ass". He was crushed, but I believe for the better.

Today, I'm making sure that my son's budding admiration for Spiderman is kept in check with this little song. To be administered three times a day for two weeks, at monthly intervals.

A YEAR IN PARENTING

Is it Spring already? No, it isn't, but we're getting there, right? Aren't we??? If I sound desperate, it's because I am. I have spent the entire winter indoors trying to keep my children entertained yet safe while throwing Cheerios at them at hourly intervals. I may have survived, but barely. The only thing that has kept me mentally stable has been googling diagramming apps, an old passion of mine. So here are four pie charts to summarize the seasonal activities of average parents. If someone ever asks you, "What do you do all day?", then show them these.

FOOL ME TWICE: 2 KIDS UNDER 3 (Part II)

Here is the second installment of the lessons I've learned as a mother of 2 kids under the age of 3. (Here you can find Part I.)  My chidren, MiniBee and MicroBee are now 4 and (almost) 18 months, which means I'm still in the trenches, but breathing some, too. I hope some of these thoughts are going to help parents about to embark on the double-parenting adventure, although I know very well that everything you are reading here you will forget within minutes of your second birthing experience. Good luck!

NAPS

You are surely wondering how on earth you will be able to have two children nap at the same time or at different times of the day. I have no solution for you, I'm afraid. Having two children following two different napping routines is olympically challenging. A classic two-hour routine right after birth saw me nursing MicroBee to sleep while listening to MiniBee trashing the living room downstairs, then drag an overexcited MiniBee to his room and read him stories for 45 minutes so that I could finally leave the room only to hear MicroBee waking up from is nap. I would then pick MicroBee up and be greeted downstairs by MiniBee announcing he would not nap that day. So my advice is, do whatever you can. It will be over someday, somehow.

DUMBING DOWN FOR ALL

When you had your first child, you spent all of your energies crafting the perfect amount of quality mental stimulation to be balanced with strict routines and a plenty of nurturing affection. Your first child is a genius with massive potential in practically all areas. As soon as the second comes along, all comes to a halt. I'm sorry to tell you this, but now that you're a family of four, your youngest will drag you all to his/her own level, nullifying all of your previous efforts. You are exhausted, and all you can muster is going through the motions of the simplest activity that will make the youngest happy. In my case, it's banging toy cars together. (You will always choose to cater to the one who screams the most and is closest to your ears.)

POTTY MOUTH

When your oldest child turns four, s/he will enter the horrifying stage of potty mouth, during which s/he is going to repeat swearing you say at home together with mystifying coinages s/he will pick up from other children (welcome to "fart sauce"). At the same time, your youngest will be the impressionable toddler dealing with his or her first words. You will then enjoy having a toddler whose only words are "mom", "dad", "shit", and "stupid". I can tell you there are not a lot of good sentences coming out from this.

THE IRONY OF "THE GOOD OLD DAYS"

You will think back at those days when you were only dealing with your first and wonder what the fuck you were complaining about. When you have a second, the idea of having to deal with one tantrum, one meal, one potty-training disaster will sound like being transported into your early 20s on a solo vacation to a Caribbean paradise. Of course, this doesn't mean you start judging parents with only one child. You are just gaining some very much needed perspective. Sometimes you'll even go as far as thinking that, if you had three children, then the two you have would look like a stroll in the park. But that's usually when I slap myself really hard on the face.


Read Fool Me Twice, 2 Kids Under 3 (Part I).

FOOL ME TWICE: 2 KIDS UNDER 3 (Part I)

My oldest (MiniBee) turned 4 recently, and my youngest (MicroBee) is two months shy of 18 months, which means that at some point I did have 2 kids under 3 to take care of. It might be the biggest cliché ever, but time did fly since MicroBee was born, and today I look at this tall, brooding preschooler and this dancing, dumpster-diving toddler and I can't believe they are my sons. So I decided to stop and think about what a crazy roller-coaster the past two years have been, and which lessons I've learned that can be passed to future parents of 2 under 3. Here is Part I!

SECOND PREGNANCY

Everybody knows that nobody cares about your second pregnancy, but you'll be surprised by how little you will care yourself. Personally, I could never remember how many weeks I was, I'd ask strangers at the supermarket whether smoked salmon was safe for me, and I started talking to the baby inside me only when they told me he was fucking breech (don't worry, I kept it somewhat civilized).

BOOKS

Being the compulsive parenting-book reader that I am, I was surprised by the lack of well-established manuals for parents with young children. How I am supposed to raise these kids without expert advice?!? The reason is very simple: No parent of a toddler has the time to read such manuals (and I suspect no parent has the time to write them, as well). And even the freaks like myself who sacrifice what little sleep they have to read parenting books usually know at this point that these books are a hoax and that everybody is just winging it 99% of the time.

OUTNUMBERED

Believe me, as much as my wonderful MicroBee is a beautiful smily angel from planet Happy, not a day passes that I don't ask my husband what we were smoking when we decided to have a second child. You might have two children on paper, but it will feel like you have half a dozen. In any case, you're outnumbered, even when your partner is around. The only way around this is to be perfectly organized, frantically stacked with supplies, and always ready to deliver the best possible response for every demand from your children. I guess what I'm saying is, good luck.

MOTHER'S ARMS

Children under three still like to be held and carried places, so it was no surprise to me that the arrival of a baby would only intensify this need. Your children will both need to be held, often at the same time, so there will be times where you're going to have to do that. Hopefully this will happen after your birthing stitches have been removed. It does make for some great photos of course. Smile, always, so at least one day you can pretend that it was not excruciatingly painful.

MOM BRAIN

If you think you had mom brain the first time, think again. Actually, you can't. Your head is now occupied by two massive yearly planners filled with information to be dealt with at all times. No personal reflection will ever be possible again, and memories from your youth will come in blurry flashes only during the deepest of sleep. (And a side note to this. The term "mom brain" is used to imply that mothers become stupider with the arrival of children, and nothing angers me more than hearing this. Mothers do not become stupid; they are simply flooded with a myriad of information of both mundane and critical importance. And even with the occasional slip-up they do a pretty damn good job with it regardless of the minutes that they sleep per day.)


Read Fool Me Twice: 2 Kids Under 3 (Part II).

MATCHA CHOCOLATE CAKE

My oldest son, MiniBee, turned four (!) a couple of weeks ago, an event that was celebrated with friends and with a deluge of Venice Carnival sweets and a two-batch Pandecocco coconut cake. A couple of days later, we also had a smaller family celebration that required yet another birthday cake. As any parent knows, children are only slightly more traditionalistic than the most conservative old-Europe grandparent, so there was no way MiniBee could hear the words "happy birthday" without blowing on proper candles on a proper cake. I needed a recipe, and I remembered one for Chocolate Matcha Bundt Cake from Bakerella (of the infamous cake pops) that had been sitting patiently on my Evernote for at least three years. I love matcha and I enjoyed it in many versions on my 2009 food pilgrimage to Japan, and I especially love how it couples lusciously with chocolate. It all started when a friend gave me an assortment of fancy chocolates that contained a matcha-chocolate combination that was one of the highlights of my life as an eater.

Now, someone could argue that matcha is a risky choice for a preschooler's birthday cake, and I can definitely tell you that when MiniBee heard his birthday cake was made with TEA, he was not at all pleased. But, in rebuttal to any concerns and objections I have two points to make:

1. Children will eat any cake that's placed in front of them, especially when decorated with birthday candles.

2. It doesn't matter whose birthday is it: If I'm baking or buying a cake, I need to like it first.

The second point is actually a corollary of my favorite parenting rule:

Substitute "wear" with "eat" and "oxygen mask" with "damn cake" and you'll see what I mean.

But back to matcha. For the cake, I used some unsweetened matcha powder I bought at HMart. And since the party was attended only by five people, I decided against the Bundt format and made a simple layer cake instead, halving the ingredients and making a couple of variations (more egg, less sugar, and my trusted addition of plain yogurt to guarantee a moist texture). I also suspect the matcha-chocolate combination works best in a slimmer cake. What can I say? I think it's classier this way. And as someone who wears German slippers all year round and whose every food contains 15% dog hair, let me tell you: I KNOW CLASS.

The final matcha chocolate cake was delicious, sweet and grassy and elegant (disclaimer: see my standards above), and perfect to be enjoyed with or without children.

Oh, if you wonder about MiniBee: He had two slices and was happy as a clam. And so was I.

MATCHA CHOCOLATE CAKE

Ingredients

Chocolate Mixture
3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup baking cocoa powder
3/4 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt

Matcha Mixture
3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tbsp unsweetened matcha
3/4 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt

Wet Ingredients
1 C sugar
1 stick unsalted butter at room temperature
2 eggs
3/4 C milk
1/2 C yogurt
1/2 tsp vanilla

Directions

• Preheat oven to 325 degrees.
• Grease and flour a 9'' springform pan. You can also line it with parchment paper if you prefer.
• In a small bowl, whisk together the ingredients for the chocolate mixture.
• In another small bowl, whisk together the ingredients for the matcha mixture.
• In yet another bowl, cream the butter and sugar with an electric mixer, then add the rest of the wet ingredients.
• Divide the wet ingredients evenly between the two flour mixtures, stirring until combined.
• Pour the two mixtures into the pan. Bakerella suggests doing this in tablespoons to maintain the two colors vibrant. I poured half mixture at a time and then swirled them with my finger.
• Bake for 45–50 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
• Let rest of 10 minutes and dust with cocoa powder and powdered sugar.

HAPPY NEW YEAR! (I BELIEVE IN LENTILS)

New Year's is approaching, and I could not be more excited given the tone of the last three months of the year. (As I said elsewhere, the Libra horoscope for the end of 2014 was a picture of a dead albatross.) To make sure 2015 starts in the best possible way, I cannot forsake the Italian tradition of eating lentils on New Year's Eve to ingratiate the gods of money for the following year. This tradition is still popular in Italy, and appears to have originated in Ancient Rome, where it was customary to give a little bag of lentils on New Year's Eve in the hope that they transform into money in the new year. I know it's just superstition, but I have never skipped a year and, frankly, I'm pretty terrified to see what would happen to my "finances" if I don't have lentils on December 31.

Money concerns aside, I love lentils and I take every opportunity to eat them. Actually, I will say that lentils stir in me a deep affection and gratefulness that I don't have for any other food. This love for lentils exploded on a terrible night, four years ago. I was home with my husband and my then 5-day-old baby, and we got horrible food poisoning from a Whole Foods lasagna brought over by our well-meaning family. For an entire night, Mr Bee and I shivered like two demonically possessed while taking turns vomiting, excreting, and taking care of our very hungry and loud newborn. And if you're not familiar with the needs of a 5-day-old, please know this involves nursing and pumping every two hours, diaper changing and counting, diaper-content analysis, and worrying like mad that everything is normal.

What can I say? That was really a dismal night of fear and solitude that made us reconsider our nature as human beings. Luckily the truly dictatorial symptoms subsided after 12 hours, but the fear and depression persisted. I can vividly remember sitting on the couch the next day while the baby was sleeping, talking with Mr. Bee about how terribly scary everything was, and how completely unprepared for parenthood I felt even in the face my very well-honed aptitude for catastrophizing. In order to restore some of our strength, we decided to defrost a lentil soup I had stocked in the freezer. We ate in total silence, and suddenly a miracle happened: With every bite of lentils, our bodies were being replenished with ancient, rich nutrients that gave us a noticeable jolt of energy. At the same time, our mood noticeably improved, moving from completely-forlorn-to-the-ineluctable-destiny-of-all-things to kind-of-hopeful-that-this-parenting-thing-might-just-be-alright.

So eat your lentils on December 31. They might bring you money, health, and happiness even when you've lost all hope. And what more could you wish for 2015?

Happy New Year, everybody.

NEW YEAR'S BRAISED LENTILS

This recipe contains meat, but can be easily made vegan by replacing bacon with EVOO and using vegetable rather than chicken stock.

2-3 strips of pancetta or bacon cut in thin strips (optional, but if not using substitute with 3 tbsp EVOO)
1 medium onion, chopped
1 large carrot, chopped
1 celery stalk, chopped
2 cups dry lentils (I like the French ones, but green lentils will do)
1/2 cup white wine
1 cup chopped San Marzano tomatoes and sauce
4 cups vegetable or chicken stock
1 bay leaf
salt, pepper
3 tbsp apple cider vinegar (optional)

• Heat a large pan and cook the bacon strips until they release a decent amount of fat and appear translucent, about 5 minutes.
• Add the onion, carrot, and celery and cook at medium heat for 10 minutes or until soft.
• Add the dry lentils and stir them around the pan.
• Add the wine and cook until almost completely evaporated, for about 8 minutes.
• Add the tomatoes, the stock, and the bay leaf. Cover and cook for an hour or until lentils are cooked through, adding more stock or water if necessary. 
• Adjust for salt, then serve sprinkled with freshly ground black pepper, EVOO, and a little bit of apple cider vinegar (3 tbsp should suffice for the entire pot, but follow your taste).

Another thing. Lentils are usually served as a side dish, but you can add more stock and turn it into a soup. And if you're overstuffed already, a tablespoon is enough to get by, monetarily, in the next year.

Need more recipes for New Year's Eve? You should really try my Smoked Salmon Butter then.

HOLIDAY GIFT GUIDE

The holidays are sneaking up on us with shrapnel-fury (who's the genius who gave us a late Thanksgiving this year???) and demand that we silence our wreathing inner demons for about two weeks and be merry and cheerful and bright. It's an impossible task, of course, but we'll try once again. To help you expedite your holiday shopping and possibly delay your anger explosion at the Christmas family table for an hour or two, here is Dead Chef's holiday gift guide for the family and beyond. Everything here is pure gold: I dare you not to buy anything. Let's start!

FOR THE KIDS: POP-UP PIRATE

I have longing and painful memories of not having this as a kid and being allowed to play with it only at my cousins' (incidentally, they also had all of He-Man character toys). It's a jolly pirate stuck in a barrel and playfully tortured with swords. Once the right sword gets to him, he is launched from the barrel. The Italian jingle explained the process with something that I will loosely translate thusly, "He's going to launch like a missile / Once you tear him a new one." Jokes aside, this is a great game for kids: simple, sturdy, fun, and begging to be played again and again for years. My almost 4-year old is still playing with it. And you know what? This is one of the few games I enjoy, too.

Buy it here.

FOR DAD: MOZZARELLA KIT

Aren't you sick of stereotyping dad by making him brew horrible and sour IPAs at home? I'll say enough with the home brewing already! If you want to provide dad with a worthy project to impress his family and reconnect with some kind of olden-days skill, then get him a mozzarella kit. First of all, mozzarella can be eaten with the entire family and in a variety of dishes (check this, this, this, and this). Secondly, and this might be my own fascination, a man is a man when he can manipulate and subdue a chunk of dairy.

This cheesemaking kit gets great reviews.

FROM PARENT TO PARENT: A WEEKEND HOME ALONE

When I'm alone, my house looks like this to me.

This is for the parent who takes the most care of the children and who is constantly denounced by society for both spoiling and neglecting the kids so that they will turn out just like Millennials, but without the icing of good manners (i.e. The Worst). I'm trying to be PC here, but we all know I'm talking about mothers. This is the idea: you take the children to the grandparents or to a sky lodge or wherever, and the other parent (mom) is left in A CLEAN HOUSE for an entire weekend. I've been twice the recipient of this gift, and I can tell you there's is really nothing like it. I read, I sewed, I watched a movie during the day, I went out with friends, I ate whatever, whenever I wanted, and I SLEPT IN.

FOR OTHER PARENTS WHO NOW HATE CHRISTMAS: FATHER CHRISTMAS BY RAYMOND BRIGGS

I can't remember how we got hold of this wonderful children book. It is a beautifully illustrated story of a very grumpy Santa on his big day of the year, stuck in what appears to be a much hated yet comforting routine. This Santa hates the cold and the work, complains non-stop throughout his sleigh-ride around the world, and is only really happy when he drinks his Cognac or a bottle of "party-size" red wine surrounded by his pets. Kids will enjoy all of the details in each panel; parents will fall in love with the unsentimental humor. And the beauty of it all it's that there's no post-modern sarcasm in this tale. Somehow, below Santa's cranky mutterings, readers will find the comforting rituals and magic of the Christmases of their childhood.

Buy it used (new is pretty expensive) here.

FOR THE BEST OF FRIENDS: ARCHY & MEHITABEL BY DON MARQUIS

I found this total joy of a book only a few years ago, so pardon me if you know it already, but it's worth talking about in the hope that future generations will also enjoy it. Published in 1927 as a collection of Don Marquis' columns, this book recounts the stories of Archy, a cockroach who writes poems on a typewriter, and his friend Mehitable, a passionate alley cat. This is a wonderfully funny, dark, bittersweet, romantic, and heartbreaking book. And the illustrations are from George Harriman himself, of Krazy Kat fame (a personal favorite). I am so in love with this book it almost hurts.

You can buy it here.

FOR YOUR OVERWHELMED FRIEND: A GIFT AND A RE-GIFT

You know what I really need? An inexhaustible collection of unopened treats in my pantry to be brought as last-minute gifts at parties and family events. I'm always running to the closest grocery store to find something that hopefully is not too popular and won't look exactly like what it is: a desperate random gift wrapped in haste and profanities. And don't tell me I'm alone in this. So let's start a virtuous cycle of regiftables. The idea is, buy two boxes of the same NICE treats, be it cream-filled bonbons, or gourmet macaroons, or Turkish pistachios, or whatever. One is for the giftee, and one is to be regifted. You don't actually have to explain the process to your giftee. You might add a wink if you feel like it, but we all know regifting will happen. You are just a generous and understanding facilitator.

FOR THE FRIEND WHO IS EASILY PLEASED: ORIGAMI SANTA ORNAMENTS

Last year I purchased a "Christmas Crafts Fun Kit" for my kids at a thrift store. I'm usually very wary of crafts for kids, mostly because I think it's weird that parents do all the work without even the chance of complaining about it, since crafting requires that you look ecstatic at all times. In any case, the only activity I picked up on is Origami Santa. Now, I like origami in principle but I really don't care about it much. These Santas, though, have something special. They are unapologetically adorable (if I may), and the process by which they're made is weirdly addictive, so much that this year I bought a pack of red origami paper to make as many Santas as I can. I plan on giving one to whomever is going to come by my house, and I'm already sad that in two weeks I'll have no reason to make my little Santas. That's why I think you should make them, too.

Here's a video tutorial. I know it's 7-minutes long, but after 3 Santas, you'll be down to 2 zen minutes.

FOR YOUR DEAREST, NON-VEGETARIAN FRIEND: OILY MACKEREL 

OK, so this is not the most photogenic food.
But look, Origami Santa!

Home-made treats are always well received, but if you don't want to bake yet another batch of cookies and want to surprise your giftee with something strong-flavored and unexpected, then home-made mackerels are just what you want. You just need a few mason jars, a few whole mackerels (get them at H-Mart), and good olive oil. They are salty, oily, great with bread, and, according to science, healthy, so really, what's not to like? There is a slim chance your giftee might find them a little too tasty, but I believe this is the kind of litmus-test gift to see if this friendships is a keeper or a tosser.

OILY MACKEREL

For 2–3 jars

2 fresh whole mackerels, cleaned
Kosher salt
freshly-ground black pepper
1C EVOO
2 tbsps lemon juice

• Turn the broiler on. Place the mackerels in roasting dish, and sprinkle liberally with salt on the outside and inside. Let stand on the counter for 30 minutes.
• Broil the mackerels for about 8-10 minutes, turning them halfway, until the skin bubbles up.
• Fillet the mackerels and add more salt if desired, then sprinkle with freshly-ground black pepper.
• Mix EVOO and lemon juice together.
• Place fillet inside the mason jars, then pour in the olive oil mixture to cover the fish.

I read the mackerels in oil keep refrigerated for a month. Just bring them to room temperature before serving them.

YOU'RE READING MY DIARY

AN ANTHROPOLOGIST'S DREAM

I've spent the last 2 months (or more, who cares) locked at home with a ton of work to do and with a child who has been sick every other week with a variety of viruses. My life has completely unraveled. My baby has been wearing the same summer onesies, designed for children half his age, and I can't remember the last time I went shopping for groceries. I can only tell you that today my fridge contains only vintage exotic sauces and two half cabbages, soft and jaundiced like two moldy pillows. But never mind the baby or the fridge: After two months with basically no real nutrition or human contact, I have regressed to what can only be described as a female hominid at the dawn of our species, struggling with bipedalism and clearly affected by reverse encephalization (i.e., I walk on all fours, and my cranium shrank). I've also become intensely paranoid and easily startled, like a trapped beast, and I find myself napping on the floor, cuddling with my dog and growling when I dream, because now I live like I would in a pack of wolves. My husband realized I was in desperate need of socialization and took me out to a dinner party last week. Everything seemed menacing and weird. My eyes were popping out of my skull at the unusual sound of human words; I dug at food with my hands from the potluck table; and when I finally retreated to the bathroom, I left the door open because at this point I don't know any better. So yes, I'm an anthropologist's dream, a fantastic human regression whose only purpose is to now be subject of study. This is all to say, I need human companionship. Someone take me out, please.

PERFUME IDEAS?

In the past year, I've become more interested in perfumes. Mostly I love how perfume smells on other people, and I finally realized I can also simply buy a bottle and become part of that crowd. From then on, I've been struggling to find a fragrance I feel comfortable in. The most-acclaimed perfumes are too sexy and sophisticated, and I don't really see the purpose of wearing a perfume with more personality than I'll ever hope to have. Really, I tried Tom Ford's Black Orchid, and it demanded I behave like a mix between Joan Crawford and Ernest Hemingway. Clearly impossible. So I'm looking for a deadpan fragrance, but I'm having no luck so far. This also led me to realize one massive gap in modern perfumery: Where are the food-inspired scents? You would think all the major perfume houses would be just churning out food perfumes. After all, is there anybody who doesn't count fresh bread as the best smell in the world? I'd be all over a perfume giving me the smell of a croissant, or bread pudding, or possibly my favorite smell of all: a nicely charred hanger steak.

THE RULE OF TWO

My youngest baby is now a toddler, an event that I almost missed thanks to my oldest son's constant interference. Anyway, if there one lesson I've learned about dealing with children aged 6 to 18 months, is the Rule of Two, and I want to share it here for parents in need. It is a simple concept: Give them two of anything. When you're having dim sum and your child is bored out of his/her mind, do not reach for the iPhone. Give them two soup spoons. Or two straws. Or two cars, if you have them (good for you!). If you give your child one toy, this will be hurled across the restaurant; but two, it's a game. And when you're child gets bored, change objects or add a third.