Tilth: good food, spotty service

The ever hip, family-friendly Wallingford was recently blessed with a rare dining gem. Tilth is a fully certified organic restaurant, and those are few and far between, even in our eco-friendly neck of the woods. I like to consider myself an earth-friendly gal, and the recent trends in buying local and organic have sent my brain buzzing with excitement. I’ve been dying to go to Tilth since it opened in the fall of 2005, and their brunch menu was just as delectably enticing as dinner. So, for our second date since Punkin was born, we booked a table for Saturday brunch, left the kid with a sitter, and headed out for a promising meal.

Food = 50/50. I ordered the Croque Monsieur, a delicious ham and melted gruyere “sandwich” topped with béchamel sauce and a friend egg. Yummmm...Definitely not something I’d make at home, and just the right portion to fill my hungry tummy. Veggie had the truffled scrambled eggs over potatoes and spinach. Good, but we could easily make those at home...eggs? check. truffle oil? check. chives? yup....and Veggie thinks we could do it even better (maybe some wild mushrooms or cherry tomatoes and green onions?). Both dishes came out luke warm. I’m going to attribute that to the server, not the chef (see below). We never did get to try the Grand Marnier french toast with apple compote (again, thanks to the waiter) so our critique is limited to small portion of the menu. The heirloom tomato bloody mary was definitely a step above store-bought mix, but I’m no expert when it comes to vodka in the morning, so I’ll have to let you decide.

Service = terrible. The server was rude, forgetful, left us waiting forever, and even disappeared for 25 minutes during our 2 hour (yes TWO HOUR) meal. It was clear that out of the 4 waitstaff he was the most incompetent, and the others soon began to pick up his slack. But I’ve had better waiters at IHOP, and Tilth can do better than that. The final straw? Our side of french toast never arrived, but we didn’t complain - we were stuffed and ready to get to our movie. When our piss-poor waiter came to deliver the bill, he stopped short, mumbled something about needing to add an item, and returned a few minutes later with a new bill, minus the french toast. No apology. No asking if we still wanted it. Oh no, he just pretended like it never happened. Now that, my friends, is poor poor form.

Overall atmosphere = cold! It was January in Seattle. That week’s forecast was snow, snow and more snow. (and a little rain, too). But Tilth apparently forgot to pay the heating bill. Nearly every customer sat buried in their warm winter coats, clutching tiny teacups of coffee to stay warm. And the coffee? Have you ever been to a breakfast place that didn’t offer you coffee within minutes of sitting down? Cause we had to ask twice and wait 30 minutes before we got a cup (from another server of course) and Veggie began to show signs of stress when he saw the itty bitty cups that he could drain in two gulps. If coffee is the cornerstone of breakfast, Tilth is suffering serious structural deficits.

Kid-friendly? There’s a reason we left the larvae at home. But I did see 3 or 4 little ones, a few even in high chairs. How they stayed warm and how long their breakfast lasted I don’t know. There were certainly no changing tables in the bathrooms or slings for your table-side carseat. But to give Tilth a little credit, they’re not trying to be junior’s favorite, just organic.

Will we go again? That’s a good question. I’d definitely like to see how dinner fairs, and the french toast still has me curious. Compared to our old standby, Portage Bay Cafe, we rate the cost as comparable, the service lacking, and the food only slightly more interesting (PBC also touts local foods and many organics). Given the choice between the two, PBC is a solid winner.

Over Easy

As a mom, I don’t get to eat out much. In fact, I can count the number times I’ve had dinner out this past year on one hand. And with babe in tow, it’s really become more of a hassle than it’s worth. But every so often, Veggie and I take advantage of Punkin’s early morning weekend wake ups and we bundle up, pack the diaper bag, and head off to our favorite breakfast joint. Now, you should know that we do not take eating breakfast out lightly. In fact, we’re down right snobs when it comes to choosing the place where we’ll fork over $6 for a side of bacon or wait 45 minutes just to get seated. We’ve got a few requirements and a laundry list of ideals when it comes to breakfast spots. So I was super excited when I saw the cover of Jan ’08 Seattle Metropolitan Magazine: “Hot Breakfast Spots.” We’ve got our own favorites, but I was curious to see what SeattleMet had to say, and to find a few new places to try.

Here are my basic requirements...

Better than what you make at home: Veggie and I make a damn good sunday scramble and the occasional malted waffle with fresh farmer’s market fruit. So in order to deserve our $12/plate, a breakfast spot has got to be worth the usual outrageous price gouging.
Worth the wait: anyone knows sunday brunch means long lines and many cups of coffee on an empty stomach....but this should only be the case if the food (and service) is worth the wait.
Never leave hungry: this is Veggie’s requirement cause I’ve never left a breakfast spot with anything less than an overstuffed belly.
Bottomless coffee cups: don’t you dare charge for drip refills, and hold the sludge please.
Decent service: I don’t expect my waiter’s to all be cheery faced and bright eyed when facing a hungry mob at 8am on Saturday morning, but don’t be bringing in the trainees, the kid-haters, or the hung-over slackers, puhleeeease.
Kid-Friendly: duh. High chairs are great. Crayons are better. A changing table in the bathroom and a carseat sling at the table? Bring it on!

Got your own basic requirements? Let me know, ‘cause I’m sure I’m leaving something out. Now on to my first review...

Fantastic Fisher Price

Wow, am I fishing for add revenue or what? No really, the point of this post is to share with you a surprising discovery I’ve made. One that thousands, if not millions, of mothers have made over the past 78 years, I’m sure. What surprises me is that I’m going to sit here and adamantly advocate to other parents to consider using, buying even, products made in China, probably out of toxic plastics painted with lead (not really, but who knows these days). (By the way, since I haven’t made it clear already, I strive to buy mostly all natural, wooden toys and all that. But sometimes plastic is just so goooooood).

So what is this discovery, you’re no doubt wondering. Well.....I’ve discovered the magical wonders of Fisher Price. Yes, it’s been around since our grandparents were first learning about cause and effect, music, and mirrors. And there’s a good reason it’s still one of the most popular and successful toy companies to date. Their toys are brightly colored, but often relatively simple (i.e. not ADHD-inducing madness). They are most geared at teaching infants and children important developmental skills and discoveries. But most importantly, they have truly saved my sleep-deprived, only remotely sane self on more than one occasion.

Here are my favorites - my life savers:

Rainforest Jumperoo - we really wanted some sort of activity center for Punkin, but most of them were so busy we were truly afraid of giving him ADD. This one was the most tame of the lot at Babies-R-Us, and he looooooved it! We ended up getting a lot of the "Rainforest" gear and Punkin really liked the monkey the best. But we liked that he might recognize the characters when he moved from the car to the changing table to the jumperoo.

Ocean Wonders Cradle Swing - ok this one truly did save my life. I could go on and on, but basically for a few months of Punkin’s early life, it was the only way we could get him to sleep for longer than 2 hours at a time. The most important part was that it swings side-to-side as well as front-to-back and the side-to-side motion is key in inducing happy baby snores ;)

Rainforest Peek-a-boo Leaves Musical Mobile - we mounted this over the changing table to distract Punkin during the dreaded diaper change and it worked! It was especially cool when he started tracking the animals going around above him.

Rainforest Monkey Auto Mirror - Punkin was like most babies and hated the carseat and the car. When we got this mirror he started “talking” to the monkey and they soon became best friends. Plus, like any mirror, it let me see what he was up to.

Healthy Care Booster Seat - this thing’s just awesome and it will last us forever (or at least until Punkin’s ready for a real chair). In our tiny kitchen it works much better than a full high chair, and we’ve taken it with us on long distance trips - it fits perfectly in the carseat bag.

Some other Fisher Price stuff we’ve been using:
Rock-a-Stack
Sound N’ Lights Monitor
Rainforest Delux High Chair Cover

So that's my spiel on Fisher Price. If I could only recommend one thing, it would be the swing. Even though we only used it for about 4 months, it was worth every single penny.

afternoon enlightenment

I was deeply absorbed in reading a string of emails on being a SAHM and how isolating it can sometimes be when I heard KDog let out a sad, half-hearted moan. She’s been lying in the sun, surrounded by Punkin’s toys, and I figured it was a moan of content. Regardless, I glanced over at her, only to witness what was so far from contentment - there she was, lying in the sun, eyes barely opened, half-rolled back in her head, which was bobbing slightly off the ground, trying, I imagine, to dislodge the 25 lb toddler SITTING ON TOP OF IT! Man that dog has tolerance. She finally managed to pull her head out from under Punkin’s butt, only to send him teetering backwards. He scowled like YO, that was my seat, b&#ch!

Isolating? Nahh....how can living with two circus monkeys be isolating?

munchiepoo

A dog always has a rather doggish, but still respectable, name. A name by which she is rarely ever called, except in moments of extreme discipline or disdain. Day to day she is called by any number of terms of affection: dOG, doodles, dA (by Punkin), doodle brain, puppy dog, etc.
Along comes the kid and suddenly nicknames are interchangeable (actually names are interchangeable, but I’m not going to admit I mix up my dog and my kid, no i never do that). According to Veggie, there is one exception to that rule: MunchiePoo can be called StinkyButt, but StinkyButt will never be, should never be, a MunchiePoo. I’m just waiting for the day StinkyButt proves him wrong and does indeed start munching his poo...

SAHM goes mental from Vitamin D overload

Can you get too much of it, cause I think maybe I have... Visiting California this fine weekend in February and it is clear and 68 degrees. My brain is melting. I seriously think after what seams like eons of wet, cold, cloudy Seattle days, the sun in California is making me mental. And I’m directing most of my insanity at Veggie. Poor Veggie. What’s my beef with Veggie? It’s one of our old disagreements: my life is much more stressful than his. Sure he’s got loads of responsibility and his boss is slightly insane and they expect him to create something great out of nothing. But you see he can go to the bathroom. WHENEVER HE WANTS. He doesn’t have to feed someone else before he feeds himself. If he decides he needs a 5 minute break...HE TAKES A BREAK. I, on the other hand, have had to master the art of peeing with a wiggly toddler on my lap (yes, somedays that’s just the way it has to happen). I often spend several hours in a blood-sugar-depleted haze trying to get Punkin fed and too drained to find food for myself - cheerio mommy?

I know I know, quit yer bitchin, you get to spend every lovely day watching your little angel grow and learn and (‘scuse me while I make myself yak from sentimental overdose...) No seriously, I’m lucky, and it won’t last forever, but somedays I just really want Veggie to know what it’s like to have a 25 lb gobblin hanging on your every move...

Today Punkin discovered what fun it is to pinch Veggie’s nipples. Ahhhh...there is justice afterall!!

Fuh-ster-ated

Imagine dining at your favorite restaurant. You’ve tasted a bit of the day’s special and now you are ready for dessert. The waiter stands in front of you, distracted, as you request a slice of chocolate cake. He looks at you like he’s deaf, so you ask again. Finally, he reacts - leaves - comes back with a glass of water. No, you tell him, I’d like a slice of chocolate cake, not water! He looks confused - leaves - is back this time with a basket of bread and some butter. Hey! Where’s my chocolate cake! He’s getting annoyed, and so are you! He looks around, picks up a spoon and says “Here, have this.” You chuck the spoon in his general direction and yell, “CHOCOLATE CAKE!!!” Suddenly the lights go on in his foggy brain - he tells you he’s got just the thing, be patient - and returns with a bowl of ice cream. Sigh....I guess this will do....and you eat.

Such is dinner time in pre-verbal toddler land.

Wanna pee in yer pants?

By some random act of fate (or kindness, you choose) I stumbled upon one of the greatest blogs of all time and my only regret is that I don't have the time to read up on all seven years of hilarious, poignant, honest writing. She's entertaining and inspiring (to a newbie in the blogosphere) and apparently coming out with a book sometime soon (I can't wait!). She doesn't need any more followers (I think they already number in the thousands) so I'm only telling you about this blog to bring laughter and poopy polka dots into your life. Trust me, Vitamin D couldn't bring you out of the winter doldrums faster.

Check it out: www.dooce.com

Addiction

I can’t get enough of sugar these days, and not just any kind of sugar. High quality dark chocolate is my favorite, but homemade cookies are a close second. Those chocolate covered butter biscuits my friend brought me from Harrods of London were gone too quickly. And Ben and Jerry’s Half-Baked frozen yogurt smothered in hot fudge has become a nightly ritual. It’s ok for now.

A nurse told me to cram in as many calories as I can to make up for Punkin sucking me dry each day, and I am taking her words to heart. And for now it doesn't seem to have any drawbacks - in fact I have trouble keeping up with his calorie withdrawal and he's only nursing 5 times/day - there are many days I’ve wished this weren’t so, cause Hey it’s better to be fat and loved than skinny and hated, right Katie Holmes? But seriously, someday Punkin will stop chowing down and I'll still want my chocolate-covered goji berries, and then I'll be in trouble. Intervention anyone?

So back to my sugar addiction - when I get my pre-meal snack on, I reach for the Trader Joe’s chocolate coated chocolate chip dippers and when they’re all gone I hungrily eye the brownie mix on the top shelf....just...out....of....reach.

Monthly Punkin: 11

I’m sitting here listening to the muffled sounds of digitally recorded waves crashing on a beach somewhere, waiting for your dad to be released from your tenacious, sleepy grasp and come join me on the couch. This is how many of our nights go these days: I try to put you to sleep, your dad tries to put you to sleep, your dad falls asleep trying to put you to sleep, I sit on the couch and wait...and wait...You see the problem is your heavy, warm, sleeping body is intoxicating and, well, your dad is a very tired man. So now you two lie there, sound asleep, and I wait.

This month I released you from your jail. Don’t be mad, the jail was for your own good. But now the house is much safer for you, so you can be free. And that’s a good thing, ‘cause the minute I freed you, the wheels began to turn and the world - well the house, anyway - became your oyster. No room is too scary, no shelf unreachable, no door un-swingable. All untouchables are now touchable and man you just can’t get enough of your freedom. I’ve tried many ways to entice you to stay and play with me and your toys, but you refuse to come like a dog when I call you and, frankly, I admire your independence. Crawling all over the house has exposed you to much more dirt, dust and dog hair. It coats the palm of your hands and the bottom of your pants, and my OCD brain can’t stand that, but I try to let it go, I do.

In the size department: You haven’t grown much this month, you’re only 24 lbs and change, but I think that’s normal. You still tower over the other 11 month olds and your head is at least twice as large.

Your powers of observation are clearly hard at work now. Today you picked up the remote, held it up high, and turned to point it at the tv. I’m in trouble. You also figured out the shape sorter and the ring stacker. You sit and play by yourself with such determination and concentration, it reminds me so much of your dad. I swear your sorting your toys, organizing them, putting them in piles in your imagination and then moving them from one pile to another. If I could have just one peek into your little brain...

At the end of this month will be your first birthday. One whole year has passed and I’ve only just now begun to write things down. There’s so much that has happened, so many milestones have passed, so much we have learned about you and so much you have learned about the world. I selfishly don’t want that One Year mark to come, because then you will no longer be a baby. You’ll be venturing further into the world, becoming more and more independent, less and less attached to me. You won’t let me pick you up and hug you without struggling to get back to your games. I know all this is part of growing up. But it’s just happening too fast. So, for the next month, can you stay a baby, just for a little while longer? Thanks.

Love,
Mom-mom

Chow Down

Note to self: D*#n dog obsessed with chewing wood does not discriminate between firewood, sticks on the ground, and fancy German-crafted wooden baby blocks. Do not leave fancy German-crafted wooden baby blocks, or any wooden baby toy, out where supremely intelligent dog might have access to them. Check.

Also note: Guitar picks are not good baby toys. Especially finger picks. No, they are perfectly sized chokable objects. Check.

Dog eats Dog

Motherhood has made me a wonderful compassionate, loving, understanding person....to my son. To my dog, on the other hand, I am a bitch. Appropriate, since she’s one too, but really not fair by any stretch of the imagination. Child #1 (dog) has been 100% usurped by child #2 (Punkin) and is now treated like the animal she is, dog, rather than the revered and cherished being she was (Child #1). I feel guilty about this every day. Right up until she eats expensive German-crafted wooden baby blocks because OH NO we were out of the house during the hour leading up to her dinner and OH NO she’s going to starve even though she’s the only adult dog under 50 lbs that still gets fed TWICE a day, and no that’s NEVER enough food thank you very much. So now I’ve decided not to feed her dinner. Yes, as I said, I am a bitch. I do get some credit for knowing that Veggie will feed her once he’s read Punkin his stories, and I think it’s appropriate that she wait an extra hour or so for her meal and that it not come from Alpha Dog (yup, that’s me). Veggie is most assuredly not Alpha Dog. That’s because Veggie was a kind, gentle, loving person before parenthood and I was not. But someone’s gotta be Alpha Dog or who’s the pack gonna look to when the poopoo hits the fan? So I trained Kdog, cared for Kdog, and even fed and walked Kdog for a full year when Veggie lived elsewhere, and I yell at Kdog, push her out of my way when she plops down in front of the oven where I’m cooking, confine her to her crate when she’s been bad (i.e. eaten expensive German-crafted wooden baby blocks), and, starting today, have the lovely job of administering allergy injections (yes, you heard me, injections) every 3 days TILL THE END OF TIME (or at least TIME as she knows it). I have therefore successful secured my tenure as Alpha Dog. Now before you criticize me and tell me how I need to take time out to give Kdog the attention she needs, go for walks, love her the same as always and be sure to cuddle with her once a day, no first I need you to SIT. LAY DOWN. ROLL OVER. PLAY DEAD. OKAY! SPEAK!

YOWWWWWWWWWWW

Imagine a cat who’s just been ingratiated by having it’s tail stepped on. Crying out in agony and indignation and sadness, “why did you hurt me?” That’s how I feel when your teeth clamp down on my sore, red, tender flesh. The pain is excruciating, especially on already raw, possibly infected skin. But it is sadness that brings tears to my eyes. This moment is supposed to be soothing, magical, bonding, happy. We’ve got the moves down to a science, you don’t need any help anymore. Cradled in my arms, you curl around me, your hand reaches up to play with my face, your eyes struggle to resist sleep. But these days breastfeeding has become so painful I almost dread it. It shouldn’t be at this point, but you can’t seem to get a handle on all 8 of your new teeth. And yet I wouldn’t give it up for the world. But some days, man.....you make me question my faith....

Stay Tuned...

Over the past 7 months I’ve collected quite a lot of knowledge and experience from being a mom and doing tons of research. I know I’ll use that knowledge for my next baby, but I’d like to pass it on to other moms, dads, grandparents, caregivers, etc. And as my son continues to grow, so will my file on everything baby. I hope I can help you make better, more informed choices when it comes to baby stuff, baby activities, parent sanity and everything else.

Update 2010: A lot has changed, including the purpose of this blog. For a more up-to-date description, read here.