Thursday, February 7, 2013


I love waking up, going to the fridge for some milk to make my kid some oatmeal, and seeing my Thai leftovers.

It's going to be a good day.

Thank you to my good friend Jenn, who made these leftovers possible, as it was her recent birthday that prompted our lunch outing to Thai Spice yesterday. Jenn is an old roommate, and she is definitely the kind of person I'd want in my handcart company. I don't give that compliment lightly, either. It takes something special to get yourself into my fantasy handcart company. I have a lot of friends who are great and funny and I like them, but if they would be a liability or annoyance on the trail ... sign them up to wait for the railroad to Utah to be finished. But not Jenn. She has the quiet resilience necessary when you're getting attacked by Indians or you step on a diamondback.

She's also whimsical.
 Because my cherub was taking an especially long nap, we didn't get to lunch until after 2 p.m., though gratefully we arrived at Thai Spice in time to get their lunch special. What wasn't so great were the not-so-subtle hints we got that we needed to hurry the heck up out of there ... like how we got the check five minutes after our food arrived. While this was a little embarrassing/buggish, it did have the unexpected consequence of leaving me more leftovers than usual.

Having an abundance of leftovers is especially important to me at this time in my life because I also have provide sustenance for two other people. One of those people is in utero so feeding her mostly means I get an excuse to eat/enjoy more food, but the other person I have to provide sustenance for is a little different. He is a picky, greedy toddler with no respect for the sanctity of leftovers (he gets this last trait from his father). On one hand, I am overjoyed that Graham loves Thai food because 1) children liking international cuisine is charming, and 2) there are very few foods the child will eat with such reckless disregard for portion control. Because Graham is so picky and pretty small for his age, I fret over his eating habits. When I find something he likes I gladly provide large quantities of the food so he can foie-gras-duck himself into happiness while building up a supply of calories that will sustain him through the next week of eating nothing but strawberries and tomatoes.

His fat suit.

The problem comes when he loves my leftovers. I can't just make more Thai Spice massaman curry for myself, now can I? But what do I do when Graham chucks his emptied blue plastic plate on the table with a demanding clatter for the third time, exposing his cavernous maw like a toothed baby bird? Deny him the calorie-rich goodness of curried coconut milk over brown rice? Sigh. Because I am a mother and have forgotten how to be selfish, I give him even more of my curry, which he promptly spills on the floor. Love that kid.

To my Houston readers, give Thai Spice a try. Don't believe the online review about cockroaches, because it really isn't that kind of place.