Iris has been eating like a horse, or at least a shetland pony. On Monday, for example, she had a whole waffle, a sausage link, and a cup of OJ for breakfast. Then we went to the Children’s Museum, and on the bus she had a handful of Veggie Booty and a cup of milk. After the museum, we went to Orange Julius, where she ate most of a jumbo hot dog, some of my corn dog, and we split a Julius. It is just me, or was the Orange Julius much better back in the day (i.e., 1983)? The ones at the Center House are watery and icy.

Then we rode the monorail, which miraculously delivered us all the way to Westlake Center, where stopped for a chocolate chip cookie. For afternoon snack she ate two slices of ham, a piece of buttered whole-grain toast, and possibly another cup of milk (I can’t remember; it could have been water). For dinner, I made salmon cakes, and Iris ate one large cake. She did not eat any of the fennel and red onion on the side.

She’s also been grumpier than usual. I get the feeling that in a couple of days she’s going to come bursting out of her room in the morning, five feet tall. I also get the feeling that I should be investing in pork belly futures.

I had to return the chipotle-marinated chicken skewers to Trader Joe’s. Don’t they sound good? Well, they weren’t: dry, white-meat chicken without much flavor. I should have known. I enjoy chicken breast in the form of chicken marsala or francese, but on a stick? Not its natural habitat.

So I brought the box up to the customer service counter and went shopping. I grabbed a couple of those Chocovic bars, a box of macaroni, some penne rigate, and a chub of polenta. Don’t you love the word “chub”? I had forgotten the exact price of the skewers. Here’s how it turned out:

Stuff I bought: $7.55. Skewers: $7.69. They owed me: 14 cents.

I think this is my superpower.

I think this is as good an insight into the mind of a three-year-old as anything.

When we were at QFC the other day, Iris zoomed in on a product called Wacky Mac, which is nothing more than rotini in four colors (white, orange, green, reddish-purple; I assume probably the purple is from beets and the orange from carrots). I made it for lunch by taking the bold step of opening a box of Trader Joe’s macaroni and cheese, pulling out the cheese packet, and substituting Wacky Mac for the elbow macaroni.

I liked the Wacky Mac. So did Iris. Mostly. This photo should explain everything.

Whenever we go to Pok Pok, which is not often enough, Iris eats approximately her weight in sticky rice. Unfortunately, all-you-can-eat rice has to be a special treat because is tends to cause her negative digestive consequences (I can hear the smirks all over Asia now), but she gave a me a guilt trip last time I made a small amount of rice, so tonight I’m making sticky and I’m making a bunch of it.

Long-grain Thai sticky rice still seems to be little-known among non-Southeast Asian home cooks in the US. But it’s very easy to make and fun to eat. Head to an Asian grocery and look for a bag marked “sweet rice” or “glutinous rice,” both of which are misnomers. The rice itself looks just like jasmine rice except that it’s opaque white, rather than the slightly translucent grains of jasmine.

Cooking sticky rice is in some ways trickier and in a key way simpler than jasmine rice. It’s trickier because:

* You have to soak it, at least two hours in advance. On the bag of rice I just bought, there was a chart showing that I should soak for two hours in December, five hours in April, and some larger amount of hours in fall, because the rice dries out. This was cool. You can’t really oversoak it, though, so just start soaking in the morning.

* You have to wrap the rice in cheesecloth and steam it, rather than cooking it directly in water, which would turn it into a congealed sponge. So you have to find some cheesecloth. There’s a particular pot used for cooking sticky rice in northern Thailand and Laos. I had one of these, but I got rid of it because a regular stockpot with steamer insert works fine.

But it’s easier because:

* You can’t overcook it. You need to steam it for at least twenty minutes or so, but you could leave it in there for an hour or two and it would be fine. There’s none of this worrying about whether you put in the right amount of water or opened the pot too soon.

Eat sticky rice with your hands, using it to scoop up bits of larb, green papaya salad, or whatever else you have. Tonight I’m making cucumber salad and stir-fried chicken with mushrooms.

Just in case you had forgotten why the feminist movement began, this should refresh your memory:

Cooking Terms and What They Mean (1949)

Remember, sometime in your cooking career you will be called upon to make SCALLOPED CAULIFLOWER. And if you fail, well, Margie, let’s not get into that.