I’m still sick. Today I ate toast, some almonds, a few bites of an ill-advised new flavor of Campbell’s soup (something with pork and beans, though not the classic Pork and Beans, which would have been preferable), half a Trader Joe’s frozen stromboli, and some macaroni and cheese with broccoli. You can see that the virus is affecting my judgment. I had great plans for this week involving short ribs and polenta, but the way things are going it’s going to be Spaghetti-Os and very stale Texas Toast by Friday.

This afternoon while I was lying on the couch watching episodes of The Office (UK), Laurie and Iris went down to Joe Bar for a crepe. They got cinnamon-sugar with whipped cream on top. On the way home, I am told, the following conversation occurred (I realize it strains credulity, but then Iris repeated it for me several times at home):

> **Iris:** Iris singing a little cinnamon song.

> **Laurie:** How does the song go?

> **Iris:** Cinnamon, cinnamon, cinnamon.

> (pause)

> **Iris:** It’s on iTunes.

This morning, despite the drizzle, Iris told me she wanted to go to Cal Anderson Park, known to her as The New Park because it opened last fall. I put on her boots and we headed to the park, where Iris immediately noticed a huge puddle. She did some stomping and dancing in the puddle, and soon fell on her face. She was totally soaked. “Let’s go home and get some dry clothes on,” I said as she gibbered. “We can have some warm almond and some crackers.”

“Have a picnic,” moaned Iris.

“Sounds good,” I said.

“And some warm cocoa. And put on some pinky pants.” The pink pants were in the hamper, it turned out, but the rest of the plan went perfectly. We spread out her pirate quilt, which has cute little pirate kids printed on it, and I heated up some warm milk with almond and some cocoa (Swiss Miss Chocolate Sensation, the only powdered cocoa worth drinking), and got some Ritz crackers. Littlecat, a stuffed cat, joined us. It was a good picnic. Iris remembered that I promised to blow bubbles at the park, so I blew some bubbles inside and dripped bubble soap all over. Don’t tell Laurie.

Sorry for this sentimental installment, but it was pretty cute.

Like everyone else in the Western world, Iris loves that Narnia Rap. She goes around saying things like “pack it up NICE” and “mack on some cupcakes.” Tonight at bedtime…

> **Laurie:** Yo, Iris, what’s crackin’?

> **Iris:** Eggs.

I made a big pot of New England fish chowder. I have got to remember to halve these Jasper recipes, because I think we ate a quarter of the chowder.

The fishmonger was able to hook me up with what I needed, although it wasn’t exactly as I envisioned it. I imagined that maybe I’d buy a few whole cod and the guy would unsheathe his scimitar and fillet them, and I’d get the fillets and some fish carcasses that would look exactly like what cats eat in comic strips: a head and tail fin with a skeleton in between. Oh, and the head would have X’s for eyes.

As it turns out, though, they didn’t have any whole cod around, so I got a bunch of cod fillets and my pick of the scraps bucket. Probably 90% of what they sell at a typical Seattle fish market is salmon and halibut, so the only whitefish scraps they had were halibut. I took a big, fleshy piece that was once behind the fish’s head, and I think they charged me three bucks for it. It was hard to cut up, but it ended up making a pretty good fish stock.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but the word I’d use to describe the fish chowder is “mild.” The best part was the salt pork cracklings and the toasted common crackers. Iris ate several crackers and a lot of broth. At one point she spooned some broth onto some fish bites on her plate and said, “Putting some fish stock on those.” Then she ate them.

**A clarification.** In yesterday’s baby food post, when I said:

> I’ll admit that when Iris is eating yogurt, I usually put the tray on to avoid a pants-change right after breakfast.

I meant her pants, not mine. Hope this clears things up.

Several of my favorite topics are back today: cupcakes, lard, and funny things said by Iris.

Today is Laurie’s birthday, and she requested (what else?) cupcakes. This time *I* made them: spice cakes with orange cream cheese frosting. Here’s the recipe on Epicurious. It’s for a layer cake, but I halved the recipe and it made twelve cupcakes (baked 25 minutes at 350°F). Did you know you can determine cake doneness with the Thermapen? When the cake registers 212°F, it’s done. This is an excellent recipe, a little like gingerbread without molasses, so it’s much less brown and chewy.

While I was frosting the cupcakes I had trouble making the frosting go all the way to the edge. I asked Laurie for help, and she said I probably just needed to use more frosting. So for the next cake, as a joke, I scooped up a ludicrous amount of frosting, which of course turned out to be perfect.

Derrick Schneider at An Obsession with Food has a great new post about rendering lard, with photos. His method is a little more complicated than mine but probably results in a purer end product. Schneider renders more than a half-gallon of lard at a time; he means business.

For dinner, since we were too busy eating cupcakes to cook, we got some Indian takeout from a local place. Iris, remembering Vij’s Rangoli, was very excited about this. She kept saying, “Indian food! Iris see the Indian food!” I came home with a sack of potato-chickpea curry, chicken tikka masala, naan, and vegetable pakoras. I set it out on the table and plunked Iris in the high chair.

“That’s not Indian food,” said Iris. “Indian food coming up.”

I’m on my way to a meeting tonight, and Iris and Laurie are going to our favorite Chinese restaurant in town (Seven Stars Pepper) without me. This morning I said to Iris:

> **Me:** I have to go to a meeting, but maybe Mama and Iris can bring something home for me.

> **Iris:** Iris bring Dada some pancakes. Put ’em on Dada’s plate.

She’s referring to the crisp and flaky House Special Pancakes, but I like the idea of Iris coming home with flapjacks and flipping them onto a plate.