Saturday, 11:44am. I come to a stop at an intersection a few blocks from our house after a morning of errand-running and grandpa visiting, and I see a couple that we know from the neighborhood. They’re walking hand-in-hand, looking very happy-go-lucky, and heading on towards the little cafe in our ‘hood. My window is rolled down and I’m stopped at the stop sign, so I shout out a hello and ask them if they’re going to Hot Plate for lunch. And they reply uhhhh, more like breakfast. And I’m all oh. OOOOH!! Yes!! You CAN go out to breakfast at 11:44am when you’re childless and fancy free! How quickly one forgets, I guess. I do remember those days though, since you reminded me.

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Saturday, 5:40pm. We’re dining as a family at one of our favorite restaurants, Peninsula. We go there every now and again since they’re kid-friendly and we love their food. Thinking that I’ve heard quite a bit of buzz about this restaurant and knowing a number of people that enjoy dining there, I was surprised to realize that every time we go there to eat the place is practically empty. I voice my concern to FatJ about the popularity of the restaurant and the lack of diners every time we go, and he replies, don’t you get that every time we come here it’s 5:30pm or earlier? Oh. Yeah. That’s right. Eating as a family at a restaurant that’s not your stereotypical familyfriendly restaurant during the 5:00 hour makes for not a problem getting a table. The REST of the world doesn’t make its appearance until the 7:00s or later. I think I’ve forgotten what happens in the world at large outside of my house after 7:00pm.

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I appreciate eating out more now than I did pre-kid. It’s more special now, more rare, more highly anticipated. Whether it be a long-awaited dinner date with my husband at a new restaurant, or a 5:00pm supper at a family-friendly establishment replete with spilled water and dropped forks and my kid trying new foods* for the first time, I do love a good eating-out adventure. (And whenever I don’t have to cook?? LOVE IT.)

Where did YOU dine this weekend?

*Ryan saw some ‘black things’ that I was picking out of my Buddhist Yam Pot*, and he asked for one. Then he ate it. Then he asked for another. And another. Black things=mushrooms. Mushrooms to me=blech. My first instinct was to say ew Ryan, you won’t like those. But I didn’t, and he loved them. He also ate a plentiful helping of roti canai with a delicious curry-ish dipping sauce, Malaysian egg rolls, shrimp, and a load of my yummy yam pot. I do so love that he loves to eat.

* Buddhist Yam Pot= stir-fried chicken and fresh vegetables served inside of a hot, doughy pot made out of some type of yam paste. I order it every time. And highly recommend it. And now I’m salivating as I think of eating it…

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Oh and also? I didn’t quite know whether to publish this post here or here. It applies both places I guess. I did plan a menu for this week, which is posted here.

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