When I was growing up, you got to choose your birthday meal. And you didn’t have to help set the table or do the dishes (oh, the luxury). Well, not only did I choose A.’s birthday dinner, I made him help cook.
In my defense, he got to choose our breakfast (we went to a wonderful breakfast place in Grand Rapids, Wolfgang's), and I agreed beforehand to be in charge of cleanup. Because, you see, I had grand visions for this dinner. You see, A. is a displaced Californian. And like many such specimens, he misses his fast food burger joint of choice, In-n-Out. And since they don’t have any stores further than a one-day drive from their distribution center in California, they aren’t going to be opening a store in Michigan any time soon. Earlier last week I saw an article about a guy ordering everything on the menu (they have a relatively simple menu, plus some “secret” options). And, even better, there was a link to his previous In-n-Out experiment—making his own!
So, we caramelized onions
Ground our own beef (thanks Uncle Eric)!
And together with American cheese from the deli, freshly made “spread,” and some lettuce and tomato, we feasted.
Of course, it was a bit of effort getting it all together, so we couldn’t eat just one. But after two? I sat down with the baby for a bedtime story and was looking through his basket of books, and saw The Very Hungry Caterpillar. And so we read that one. If only my overeating would ultimately result in my becoming a beautiful butterfly! Or, at the very least, be relieved by eating some greens the next day.
Instead, the next day was reserved for the final part of the birthday feast: the cake!
And here are my boys. Peter Potamus dressed in a flannel-and-jeans tribute outfit just for his dad’s birthday. A. doesn’t wear flannel all the time, so I smiled extra when he got up on his birthday and pulled out a flannel shirt.