R & R=Rain & Recreation

I've been telling people that I went to Seattle for some R & R. That means rain and recreation, as there was nary a dry day or a moment of rest in the Pacific Northwest with two rambunctious girls, ages three and six, as my weekened hosts. I christened the younger sibling as Tornado Lucy. A room, plate of food or coloring book loses any semblance of order and cleanliness once she gets her hands on it. You hear the cyclone before you see it descend on the quiet plateau. Her brown bob is perpetually knotted because she always shakes her head like a crazed banshee.

Witness the devastation she caused in my guest bedroom with the help of her boyfriend Luke, who's also 3 years old but is a category 1 natural disaster compared to her category 4. Even Lucy's favorite My Little Ponies fell victim, sideswiped on the bed by her overzealous playing.

Tornado Lucy is kin to Tropical Storm Greta, who's mellowed with the passing years. After all, she's in kindergarten. She's also a little more self-conscious now than she was two years ago when I last visited her family. This is Greta wearing her birthday tiara and T-shirt.

When I wasn't taking walks in the rain and eating good food with Rob and his brood, I was doing those deeds with my friend and grad-school pal Phammy. I started The Food and Music Club after Phammy moved to Seattle from the San Francisco Bay area. So she was slightly irritated by the ghetto photojournalism at the Boat House Cafe. The lapse in good manners produced some fabulous shots, however.

This is the down-to-earth table setting comprising a petite pumpkin and artichoke floating in a glass of water. I have tableware like the Boat House's, except that mine isn't as white and pristine.

I had a tough time choosing between the custard cake and the tomato bread pudding. Phammy helped me make my decision by ordering the custard cake, which had a cornmeal crust underneath a smooth, creamy filling. I thought the bananas were a little random, but they were the concession to some sort of healthy fruit on the comforting and rich dish. They were the edible doppelgangers of the plump cylinders of apple sausage.

My bread pudding was called a strata on the menu. It was a blob of bread crumbs, green and red peppers, eggs, cheese and juicy cherry tomatoes, one of which squirted redness all over my cup of tea after my fork forcefully pierced it. I'm glad I didn't order the custard cake as it was awfully sweet and I can't handle too much sugar in the morning. But I do want to replicate the recipe somehow for future brunches that I might host.

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