It’s funny how some chain restaurants are notorious while others get a free ride. The other day we went to the [Original Pancake House](http://www.originalpancakehouse.com), which is the kind of place that earns honorary non-chain status from its fans. Although, looking at their web site, I see that although it now boasts 90 locations, it started in Portland, Oregon, so maybe the one we went to when I was a kid was the original Original.

Also noted on the web site: a prominent link that says WHAT ARE PANCAKES?

Anyway, my mom was taking us to the pancake house, and Iris was very excited. I’d been talking about ordering a short stack.

> **Mom:** Iris, what are you going to eat at the pancake house?

> **Iris:** A short stack!

> **Laurie:** How about some blueberry pancakes?

> **Iris:** No, just a blueberry short stack.

Iris and I were reading Dr. Seuss’s Sleep Book, and we got to my second-favorite part (after the Collapsible Frink): the part where the moose is dreaming of Moose Juice and the goose is dreaming of Goose Juice. See for yourself on Amazon.

I pointed to the moose juice and said, “Look, that’s moose juice.” Then I pointed to the goose dreaming of goose juice and said, “Iris, if that was moose juice, what do you think this is?”

“Duck tea!” said Iris.

The other night at dinner we were having Babbo Salmon, which is short for salmon seared and served atop a crunchy cucumber salad. Here’s the recipe.

Iris vacillates on salmon. She always likes breaded salmon cakes, but when I serve the unadorned fish, sometimes she wolfs it down like, um, a bear cub and sometimes she turns herbivorous. This time, she wasn’t having it. She watched me and Laurie enjoying our salmon, poked at hers, and said, “Iris didn’t like any salmon.”

Later, one of us asked Iris if she wanted a salmon bite. She frowned and said, “Iris *can’t* like that.”

I know just how she felt. I *wish* I liked real maple syrup. Luckily, Iris got plenty to eat, because I also made crunchy home fried potato, fried in duck fat and finished with a sprinkle of smoked paprika. At one point, there were three little potato cubes left in the bowl, and Laurie said, “Iris, there are just three pieces of potato left. Who are they for?”

Iris lifted the first one out and said, “One for Iris.” Then she ate the other two.

I said, “Iris, you know what makes these potatoes so good? Duck fat.”

“Iris would like to *see* the duck fat!” So I got the container of duck fat out of the fridge and showed her. I think she was disappointed that it didn’t look like an actual duck.

Recently I reported that Iris loves the book Irving and Muktuk: Two Bad Bears, a story by Daniel Pinkwater about muffin-stealing polar bears. Somehow it escaped my notice that this book has three sequels. Today we got the first of the sequels from the library: Bad Bears in the Big City.

This installment of the Irving and Muktuk saga sees our heroes flown to the Bayonne, New Jersey, zoo, where they meet a street-smart bear named Roy. Naturally, they also break into a muffin factory. But then they get overheated and tired and have to take a nap in the frozen food section at the supermarket:

> “We became warm and tired,” Irving and Muktuk say. “We are lying on frozen peas. Is your apartment nearby?”

This made a big impression on Iris. This evening, after we read the book a second time, Iris lay down on the living room floor, and we had the following conversation:

> **Iris:** Iris is lying on frozen peas.

> **Me:** Oh, good. Dada is lying on frozen corn kernels.

> **Iris:** I’ve got to get out of this kernel place!

Iris got four new teeth this week, which is giving me hope that the end of the soft food regime is near. According to Wikipedia:

> In oral anatomy, the canine teeth, also called cuspids, dogteeth, fangs, or (in the case of those of the upper jaw) eye teeth, are relatively long, pointed teeth, evolved (and used, in most species where they remain prominent) primarily for firmly holding food in order to tear it apart, and occasionally as weapons.

Let the fun begin!

As you know, I’m a firm believer that babies and young children can and should eat the same food as adults. I call it [the first rule of baby food](https://www.rootsandgrubs.com/2006/01/12/the-first-rule-of-baby-food/). But, like any rule, there are times when it chafes. There are foods I love that a baby can’t eat, like pork chops (too chewy) or lightly stir-fried vegetables (too crunchy).

But Iris is no baby, and I’ve seen her gnaw her way through a whole apple and a huge pile of cucumbers and eat a mass of Chong Gin Hot Chicken from Seven Stars Pepper, which is equal parts crunchy, chewy, and spicy. (She ate her first apple in the store when I gave her an apple to hold, and when we got up to the cashier I realized that this was different from eating a candy bar in the store, in that you don’t have to weigh a candy bar. We got the apple free. Score!)

Last night I made corned beef and cabbage, and I didn’t let the corned beef braise long enough, so it was a little tough. Iris did not care. She ate it like she’d just survived the potato famine. So I’ve probably been too reticent about introducing crunchier, chewier, and otherwise more challenging foods. She’s outgrown the phase where, upon encountering something too crunchy for her young jaws, she would hand it to me and say, “Dada, crunch it.”

Maybe next week I’ll make Thai beef salad.