One Great Turning

We Want Cake!

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Sat, 23 Feb 2013 00:04:00 +0000

Lemon Cake.

Lemon Loaf Cake. Lemon Pound Cake. The one from Starbucks. It goes by many names and people who eat this know what I'm talking about.

The Obvious: With the exception of boxed cake, I really don't know how to bake. It took two weeks and three failed loaves before achieving this final product, which still isn't quite perfect but good enough for a friday. The first one I made turned out pasty and pale. Not edible at all. It was tough as cement and managed a heaving thud as it landed at the bottom of the trash. The second one looked hopeful, until I heard something sizzle in the oven. The loaf rose and collapsed, leaving a burnt mess of carcinogens in the oven. I had a gut feeling a lot of it had to do with my skills in creaming butter and sugar. The lack, thereof.

Recipes called for some kind of fluffiness, a consistency of wet sand, gritty, grainy but this novice baker decided it was done when I said it was done. So much for taking charge. Baking is a lesson on precision, patience, and timing.

This third one finally looked like a respectable loaf. It tasted alright but not mind blowing and it took very meticulous steps to achieve this mediocrity. Sifted flour, not-melted-not-semi-soft butter, room temperature eggs, and the strength to endure the overwhelming need to put everything in the mixing bowl all at once.

Recipes here, there (didn't want to cheat with a boxed recipe but I'm curious to try this), and everywhere. ♥

This Weekend

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Sun, 17 Feb 2013 04:43:00 +0000

This weekend, a good friend's baby shower was the subject of my attention for the most part of the week. But alas, a nasty viral bug decided to settle down and get my baby sick, changing plans faster than San Francisco fog in the afternoon. I suppose it never gets better for any parent, experienced or not. When a child is sick no matter what degree, even if it's just a bad cold (or croup in this case), you feel the pit at the bottom of your stomach, your body tenses up and like a programmed robot you just want to make chicken soup for her to eat, hoping it'll make her feel better.

We like to wear party hats (from our First birthday) just because we can. We are nowhere near her birthday by the way.

The I-will-sneeze-on-your-camera-lens look.

On The Table

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Thu, 14 Feb 2013 04:35:00 +0000

Spaghetti with Broccoli Creme Fraiche Pesto

For a few years now, I've followed the culinary adventures of Smitten Kitchen with her unbelievably experienced hand in her tiny 42 square foot kitchen. She is not formally trained in the culinary sense but that's like saying an artist can't paint a masterpiece just because an education doesn't wield the brush. I'm sure she's just as great as most chef's out there, if not even better. As a home cook, I wouldn't dare dance around the flame of feeling extraordinary. I'm still finding my way in the kitchen, but I have come a long way. Six years ago - and I say this with utmost shame, I didn't know the difference between a zucchini and a cucumber, what a nutmeg was and couldn't cook rice to save my life.

These days I'm finding endless ways to entertain myself in the kitchen, learning along the way. The recipe I found for this pesto - if we can call it that is courtesy of Smitten Kitchen of course, but modified with creme fraiche since I didn't have any heavy cream around. Thankfully, it made the dish rich and buttery with just the right tap of tartness.

Ingredient List:

Full Recipe Here

1/2 pound broccoli
1/2 pound dried spaghetti
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/2 small onion, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, minced (or, more to taste)
1/2 teaspoon table salt
Freshly ground black pepper or pinches of red pepper flakes
4 tablespoons creme fraiche
A heap of grated parmesan (about 1/2 cup), to serve

A heap of grated parmesan is indeed key! I find that freshly grated parmesan cheese is the key that unlocks the umami for pasta - or any dish for that matter. The sharpness and nutty flavor is lost when buying the pre-grated kind. So don't be shy with it, pile it on like white on rice.

One Step Forward.

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Thu, 24 Jan 2013 05:06:00 +0000

Our humble home continues to evolve and the past few weekends and was certainly no exception. Windows were retro-fitted (and what a difference double pane makes!), shelves put together and installed and has now since become home to some books of poetry and a pair of milk glass vases. New house plants bought and settled into a vacant corner by the window, curtains trimmed and hung for what will be Mandarin's bedroom and bags of old pillows, washed out coats, and broken plates and kitchen miscellany donated to Goodwill. Which is, incidentally, where I found this new loft for our friendly succulents. Now all it needs to do is survive.

The house has never seen this much action. It's a child in gestation and is on it's way into evolving into something that resembles us. No longer the stagnant vacation home of yesteryear, we want it to be a reflection of who we are as a family (which is subtle speak for saying that the old square coffee table will not be making its way back into the living room). So, we are taking it one corner at a time.

Speaking of corners, a designated time out corner has been inaugurated in the living room as some form of viral moodiness has been circulating as of late. A number of disciplinary actions taken (time out) with Mandarin as she continues to discover a whole range of unpleasant, albeit necessary emotions. Also learned today: dancing on a dining chair will land you some unintended floor time with a bloody lip. Toddler time is counted in seconds. Turn your head once and in a heartbeat your toddler has swallowed that petrified cheerio, colored the wall, bruised her shin, fallen off the chair.

Now if only I could re-locate emotion as I would these milk glass vases or my mother's thrifted chartreuse candy bowl. Today, watching the rain set me up for a mood that cleared some things up that's been stirring in me. Years ago, when I used to work for a corporate office, I'd watch the monsoon rain sweep through the city and my thoughts would run along with it. I would feel melancholic then, thinking that if I were some place else I wouldn't feel as tormented with being lost as I was. Now, nearly six years later, I'm just looking out a different window. There are just these kind of days when you feel unhinged, like you're walking around like Mel Gibson with a dislocated shoulder, hoping to run into a wall (see: Lethal Weapon). I seriously thought I would have it all figured out by now. But as life would have it, figuring it out has no timeline. So as a grand gesture to the universe I wear a tiny silver key around my neck as a constant reminder that I can figuratively walk into any locked door if I choose to, but now I realize that I've was just walking back and forth a long hallway of closed doors. Maybe it's time to see what doors can be opened.

Meaningful.

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Sat, 05 Jan 2013 02:53:00 +0000

So that's what a half digested peanut butter sandwich looks like on the floor. I will save you the photo opportunity right there. Here's a good way to start the year right, a clear reminder that children are vessels of surprise and delight, where just moments ago we were happily eating breakfast and doing Eskimo kisses and all that jazz, when out of nowhere, a gag and that was that.

This is nothing new, really. It's happened more times than I can easily remember and I only have a two year old. My reaction though, now that's one thing that never changes. I caught myself, deer-in-the-headlights witnessing this purge in slow motion HD. So real it hit my shoe, jammies and left an offensive sensory mess on the floor. I think we both had a slight out of body experience. Poor Mandarin was just as shocked as I was, not expecting breakfast to take flight from her so soon.

I finally snapped out of it, asked her not to move while I cleaned up a bit, and did what any mother and child would do in this scenario. Get naked in Tahiti. Contain the outbreak. Minimize contamination. Leave clothes behind; head straight for the shower. Load the washer.

She then asked me, "Mama, are you mad?"

"Of course not" I said.

"Aww...I'm soweee..."

"It's not your fault, love" I uttered.

"We're just cleaning you up"

She then smiled and unexpectedly said, "I'm so proud of you, Mama".

She was obviously sounding off something she heard from both myself and her Dad, but to hear this kind of validation from your two year old, regardless of whether she knows what she's talking about or not, feels good. To hear your own child say that, pulls you right back into the moment, no matter where you are. No matter how far your mind has wandered off.

I had an entire post written up and saved in my draft section not knowing how to end it or if I even wanted to post it. I knew it was clearly unfinished so I just left it there. I really didn't want to simply recount Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with a laundry list of what transpired. I'm trying to find meaning; I am going to share it, it might as well be meaningful.

Oddly enough, I found it yesterday when Mandarin and I were taking down the tree and packing up Christmas ornaments. This entire season embraced Mandarin with so much warmth that every time she sees anything remotely associated to Christmas she'd say, "Christmas everydaaay!" and packing up "Christmas" seemed to profoundly confused her.

And there it was.

I realized that I must have clocked out during the holidays because with the exception of Christmas day and Mandarin's pure excitement and joy (definitely one of the true highlights of my the year) it dawned on me that I wasn't emotionally centered. I couldn't write about it without making it sound like Wall-E's daily log. Dressed in Pajamas....playing cards...Gin tonic was excellent...dinner...dessert...midnight. I somehow lost my center, dislodged by some probable event (still) unknown to me but nonetheless affected my general outlook in life. I'm definitely not unhappy. I just haven't lived in the moment. I haven't paid attention to the details.

As the week progressed, I went through the motions of the household while sneaking in a trip or two to pick up a new Christmas tree (for next Christmas) and to ~~hoard~~ buy every ornament I came across with. Shopping for the last faux tree standing in a department store is like being faced with wolves in the woods. Alas, in the end, we got to checkout first and the lady was too slow for our Ninja (credit) slice as we took home one of two trees she needed.

Hello, 2013!

We spent New Year's Day at the Beach. It was freezing and windy, but the sun was high and it was a clear day, free of fog and drizzles, that being out was the best thing we did for ourselves. I constantly need to remind myself that we are fortunate enough to live within a few miles from the beach.

It was a good place to start the year, humbled by the great expanse that swelled and shifted waves, crashed into rocks and chased us back into the shoreline We picked out smooth and well rounded stones and hurled it back into the water, the way I would rid myself of empty resolutions that never find certitude.

Well, it is the new year, a good time to purge and start anew. Exorcise ourselves of hesitation, insecurities, or whatever demons we shared a drink with and once again be reminded that however broken we are in the past year, we can always start free and clear when we want to. Because we can.

So without making resolutions, I start the New Year with a reminder. I must be present in all things. Pay attention. Find my center and move forward from there. That day at the beach, Mandarin drew rainbows on the sand like she already knew that this new year brings with it the promise of good, happy and hopeful.

Pick a spot. Plant a seed. Watch it grow. (A revelation from a hilariously witty TV Show I've been watching). This is how 2013 ought to be.

How to Solve a Problem Like Maria.

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Thu, 06 Dec 2012 01:44:00 +0000

This really has nothing to do with The Sound of Music. There is however, a dilemma at play. The never ending saga of the sofa situation here at home, where the one true permanent solution is to actually buy a new sofa. As far a Julie Andrews goes, it's the holidays and The Sound of Music is in my subliminal consciousness during this time of year dating back to when I was a mere sapling.

Or maybe it's just the first song that pops into my head whenever I look at our couch. As far as lessons go, cover ups sometimes bring more attention to the object being hidden as opposed to actually hiding it. Case in point: the wrong shade of concealer. You know how bad bad bad that can get especially on that reddish monstrosity on your forehead.

The branded slipcover I bought does an awesome job at cover up. Although it never really looked as polished like it does in the catalog. Nicely ironed, properly folded and tied in the right areas brings new life to a tired old fabric. But beyond the framed picture of perfection are adults, sitting and stretching, toddlers jumping, climbing, milk spilling, crayons coloring, food particles falling, and folding and tucking of endless yards of fabric. The wrinkles and folds that come undone every time someone gets up; a couch really should not entail this much work.

Alas, I have been defeated! After months of trying to make it work, I took the slipcovers off and the blue fabric gloated at me. Gloated!

So now in the spirit of making things work, I have driven myself into a blue sofa frenzy. Trying to find ways to give the old hag a face lift. I'm thinking bold pillows and throws? A blindfold? Nonetheless, here are some inspirational pieces to keep me going, at least for the time being. I think it's time to buy some statement shams! Cover up didn't work so it's time for Plan B, diversion. Whoop. Did you see that? I just pulled a coin behind your ear.

Being Thankful.

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Fri, 30 Nov 2012 18:00:00 +0000

Last night's full moon marked significant change; this week's storm gates swung open like an invitation for winter to step in. Meanwhile the magic that surrounds a sleeping child is a wonder every parent can bathe in, rain or shine.

"Tell me, What is it you want to do with your one wild and precious life?"
- Mary Oliver

I try to touch base with my environment to keep myself grounded, extend my feelers just beyond my well known sensitivities and I know in my bones that it changes the manner in which I perceive the world. Having moved and lived here in the last five years has changed my monsoon driven rhythm, it is oddly familiar yet different, more prominent in the change of its seasons and I just recently found myself craving for the richness and harvest of fall, and the hearty coziness of winter. I've become, wait for it, festive.

Taking it all in, is what it is. Just the simple things. Like a silver Reindeer made in India that I found for $6.00. Cue the sparkles.

*

Now that I know it'll be raining for the remainder of the week, I'd like to take a brief moment for an inevitable face-palm for completely forgetting to buy a bottle of much intended weed killer for the front of our house. Next week it'll be the Twilight woods of Washington. C'est La Vie. Life moves on even for the unsuspecting weed that survives through the toughest of conditions.

Meanwhile, this weather is making me dream of homey things to do like crafting (What!?) and putting together a quilt and staring at my white antiquarian (yet hardly vintage chic) stove, indulging in my seasonal and yearly fantasy of finally buying a Le Creuset or Staub dutch oven with an imagined passed-down from-generations-legendary rustic recipe of Coq Au Vin. Of course, there is no such recipe but in my imagined world of things, I have an exciting eclectic foodie heritage.

Thanksgiving week has come and gone and was unexpectedly held here at home, without much preparation. It was a smaller celebration, tightly knit around immediate family members including some who drove from Auburn, WA and in spite of the lack of a traditional Thanksgiving spread (Turkey and all ) it was probably the best and most meaningful Thanksgiving I've had so far. Our family has grown once niece bigger, Mandarin has blossomed into a little girl, life has unfolded wonderful surprises- especially for good friends of ours and the year that started out on a sour note is turning out to be memorably sweet.

With the closing date of getting this house drawing near, we are incredibly thankful for a home we have already grown into and while there is much work to be done, life in itself is progressive. We move to keep things whole - time and again Mark Strand comes into mind and in the same regard, even Mary Oliver and how to make the most out of this one wild and precious life.

For now, on this rainy Friday morning, sipping a cup of roasted green tea while in my animal print jammies will do just fine. Wild.

Home and Back Again

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Tue, 23 Oct 2012 23:13:00 +0000

I've been so caught up with finding a suitable place to write at home, I've actually forgotten to write. I'm seriously considering taking the Narnia route and turning the last untouched frontier of this house - the coat room, as a possible creative space for my wandering thoughts.

Why I spend so much time trying to figure out where I can possibly have my own nook, cave, or corner doesn't come much of a surprise. I'm a crab and is very much in need of her own shell. We can thank the zodiac for that; thank you cosmos.

In the nearly three months that I fell short of updating my blog, it's as if this space skipped beat that spanned a lifetime. Deluge of memories in the 12 hour flight back to Manila for some long overdue family time, and when it was happy, it was intensely blissful. Watching Mandarin run and play with her cousins and grandparents, my best friends - her godparents. It was unbearable to leave, and yet just the same I knew I couldn't stay. Between an emotionally tumultuous goodbye that I had already started to fear a month into our trip, the plane allegedly getting struck by lighting and our flight getting cancelled and having to re-do goodbye's all over again the next day, it was an emotionally turbulent flight back home.

Home. The operative word here. Is it possible to call two places home? One where a past life thrives with nostalgic memorabilia and another where the current one resides. It is a blessing as much as it is a cursed longing for finding one's own place in the order of things. Having left in the peak of summer and arriving back just in time for fall; the change of seasons bearing the appropriate scenery of a life that has significantly changed over the last few years.

One thing to note, as I have discovered. I have a copy of Gaston Bachelard's " The Poetics of Space" on both sides of the Pacific that I call home. Possibly, the most copies I have of a the same book. One left under a bed in a hotel in Hong Kong, another in the room I grew up in, and one that I keep by my bedside like a bible. All because the deep psychology rooted in the spaces we create, cook, sleep, and play affect us in more way that we initially care to understand and I carry this book with me because it has given light (and poetry) to the spaces I occupy.

As my family and I now transition into becoming homeowners, a day I thought would never come, I find that I have extended my feelers past the room we sleep in, the kitchen, and a sliver of the living room. Like a switch going off, the official word is in - we are buying the home we have stayed in for the last five years. I have taken a stand against ALL fake plants, spray painted gold mirrors for a contemporary feel, removed dust-catching empty memorabilia that poses no great emotional attachment to anyone anyway (except to fill up a house that no one used to live in back then).

The husband and I have virtually remodeled this home into an HGTV worthy space in our head, our creative neurons firing way ahead of a true working budget, but then again that thought on its own is the beauty of it all. We can dream of a space knowing ~~it is ours~~ it will be ours and someday; sometime very soon we can peel off twenty year old wall paper off the wall and paint that mother a bright bold shade like a declaration of ownership. We have arrived.

Here and There

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Tue, 07 Aug 2012 01:37:00 +0000

The desk that I am currently working in is a great mirror of the random events in my life as of late. A beach themed birthday card that opens to the first few chords of Hawaiian-nified Somewhere Over the Rainbow, a little bag of Excedrin migraine pills and Orange Dayquil poppers, a Costco coupon book, my very much neglected planner, a few embossed glittery stickers, keys, pens and markers, a Mickey Mouse DVD, a nine inch rubber number 1, business cards, and a very filthy square of measuring tape which has seen its share of DIY projects.

It's been so long since I last posted, overwhelmed with other things that need immediate attention like the peaks and ranges of laundry that's piled up in the bedroom. Difficult as it may seem, as with other things in life, you just need to sort through it one by one until you emerge from the throes of clutter with a calm sense of Zen. Which I am still, currently, desperately trying to achieve. I still manage to function with the daily toils of life, plan events and attend parties and baby showers - even bachelorette parties and weddings. Especially the past two months which was chock full of weekend excitement catching up with well loved friends and family. Basically, I've gone off my hamster wheel of daily routes, exhausted, yet nonetheless thankful that I at least do not live a life of stagnancy.

"When they smashed my heart into smithereens, be a bright red rose come busting the concrete."

Hitting it right home, Coldplay.

We are emotionally pivoting between two life changing events, coming home to visit family and friends after many many years of not having done so. Meeting new family members, and properly grieving for a beloved few that have gone. Young and old. The other event is buying a house. A grueling process that I have now discovered is every bit emotional as it is financial. It is a delicate line to cross. Moving into a house you've already lived in for so many years with furniture and personal touches of taste and character that isn't yours, yet living with it as if it were your own, having its story weave into your own. Now somewhat halfway between the journey and the destination, you can't really tell what is yours and what isn't.

If only it was as easy as diving into a pile of laundry. There simply is a lot to sort through. I could load everything and leave it to its cycles of wash rinse and repeat for an hour or so knowing the outcome every single time, clothes that smell fresh like a breeze running through a field of flowers. At least that's what the box says. I think it smells more like the comfort and satisfaction of something being sorted, cleaned and folded.

I can't help but feel slightly guilty for neglecting my dearest blog for the past few months. It's gotten me through complicated times and will most definitely anchor my sanity for the coming months ahead. Specially now that we're leaving in a few days, crossing the Pacific away from our morning blanket of fog and crisp summer afternoons and landing into the current unpredictable monsoon season that beckons childhood memories and the warm fizzle of nostalgia. Both of them, now home to two different sides of myself where there's probably a story that needs to be told all while jumping right into the thick of it.

Hello, Blog.

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Mon, 04 Jun 2012 17:42:00 +0000

What happened?

It's ~~Friday~~ ~~Saturday~~ MONDAY already!? Seems like I just posted my last Friday Five a few hours ago. But alas, here I am rambling away, losing time, and trying to reel in where the rest of my week went.

Let's see. There was a beach trip. A donut the size of Mandarin's head. A laid back holiday at home. A very important interview I attended where I discovered I had a jovial Minnie Mouse sticker stuck on my shoe ( which of course I discovered post-interview), and a bad case of something I caught in the air that gave me a hacking cough and made me lose my voice. I think I sound like Rachel Ray, except not as perky.

Follow me on Instagram @sevenhurricane

Meantime, Mandarin's vocabulary has increased at exponential speed. There are simple words she says that make me ask her what it is again and again just to hear her say it; like bath. She says baaf which I find too cute for words. Or when we say surprise I syllabicate it for her and she says it with precise detail and yet when I ask her to say the entire word, her eyes light up and with full breath force she utters, Priiice!

This morning we sat on top of the stairs before heading down for breakfast and exchanged I love you's like we do each day, except this time she looked me in the eye and said, I've you mama (that's I Love You in Mandarin speak). Suddenly everything difficult about being a parent so far, the patience you invest, all the worry you spend, and the effort and hope that you cast out like a net with eager anticipation of what returns, diffuses in to the lightness of feathers taking flight from the ground.

She may not know it yet, the power of words. But as a mother, I do. ♥

Friday Five: Eleven

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Fri, 25 May 2012 22:33:00 +0000

1. The Cat in the Hat knows a lot about that. I didn't know it was Martin Short who did Cat's voice!

2. Sideboard at Danville. Best Eggs Benedict ever! EVER!

3. Adorable postcard that La Boulange gives out for free!

4. High on thrifting! Baby Quilt, sweet threads for Mandarin, Marigold skirt.

5. My Mandarin ♥

Happy Friday!

Newborn Essentials: The First Three Months

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Sat, 19 May 2012 07:00:00 +0000

Congratulations on being a new Mama! The first three months of your newborn's life at home will be a tiring, sleepless, happy and rewarding time. Here are a few essential things to have around to help make the transition smoother!

1. A convertible crib that can be used as a toddler bed when your little sweetie gets bigger. All drop-side cribs have been pulled out from stores from its non-compliance with safety measures, so always make sure to check what you're buying. Simply Baby Furniture has a wide selection and range of cribs to choose from. As with Walmart, and Target.

2. A most reliable breast pump, and Medela from experience has been a dependable brand. Just don't count on its carrying bag to be fashionable statement. It'll be one of the many things you'll be lugging around in the first few months.

3. You will probably receive baby grooming kits from baby showers which include a standard thermometer. Toss it. Better yet go green and re-purpose it to stir your morning coffee (tea for you lovely pregnant women), because that's all it's good for. The Vick's Baby Thermometer has a proven track record of reliability and accuracy. Don't skimp on this, a correct digital reading will determine whether your little one is really sick or just over bundled. Sold nationwide at retail drugstores.

4. Fashionable nursing covers so you can breast feed with swag. Don't be shy, pop it out and carry on with your conversation. Discreet breastfeeding is very much accepted these days.

5. The BASICS. Onsies. Onsies. Onsies. You will need a handful of these. Keep them basic and 100% breathable cotton. Linked stores: Old Navy, Apericots, and Two Blue Peas. For plain white everyday ones, Gerber sells them in packs of 5 - perfect for layering too. You will also need:

Endless supply of diapers and wipes! Amazon has great deals and monthly deliveries, or go for bulk and buy at Costco.
Baby nail files (for their razor sharp nails that can easily cut through delicate skin)
Blankets
Washcloths
An army of burp cloths and bibs. Trust me, milk that trickles down in the neck - not good.

6. Baby clothes hamper. Because babies change clothes as quick as chameleons shift color. Don't mix in with yours, unless you want to hike and climb on it by the end of the week. They really pile up. The rattan elephant hamper is a sweet and whimsical addition to any room.

7. Shopping for strollers is like buying a new family car. Test drive it. What's the turning radius like? How's the handling? Can you fold it with one hand with a child on your hip and a mocha latte in your other? Can you unfold it without kicking and grunting like a caveman? Check out Mamapedia for stroller concerns and Babble for an extensive list of best picked stroller options.

8. For new parents that do not have the luxury of having a nursery for their newborn (such as ourselves), do not for one second think that you can get away from purchasing a changing table. The bed is not a viable option for changing a child, lest you are prepared for terrible backaches and - wait for it - projectile things. Liquid versions of these things. Be quick to dodge it. Breastfeeding mamas know this tale all to well. THIS is where we bought ours which we still use daily.

9. Before you check out of the hospital, your loving nurses will teach you how to effectively swaddle your newborn with a standard (baby) hospital blanket. You will be impressed with how snug of a burrito they can be, but every child's strength varies and within minutes, your little escape artist would have given Houdini a run for his money. The Woombie is the ultimate solution to the usual tuck and fold. Snugness for newborns equates to comfort, warmth, and sleep which is directly proportional to your state of mind. Those two straight hours are precious, you know.

10. You will take probably a thousand photos in your baby's first month alone. A hundred yawning photos, her feet, his fingers, the wisp of a curl on his forehead. Keep the camera (or camera phone) handy - you can't miss a moment!

11. The Dustan Baby Language System will help you understand your newborn innate language, and yes, believe it or not, they're already trying to communicate with you within the first month!

12. Nursing Pillow. There are many brands out there but the mommy favorite would be the Boppy! It's so comfortable I caught myself using it long before I stopped breastfeeding.

13. Blooming Bath! This is the most adorable thing! I would have bought one for every sink at home had I known about it before. This floral foam is of course just for newborns, they can transition to a baby tub as they grow.

14. The Diaper Bag. Yes, they're expensive but get the right one and you won't ever have to worry about it falling apart, or finding the pacifier, the bib, and the wipes. I went through at least three bags, including a non-compartmentalized weekend bag which ended up with chaotic results. The best one I ever bought was the Skip-Hop Versa. I'd still use it today, except toddlers don't need as much things as babies do.

15. The Car Seat. Don't get overwhelmed. Go for safety, reliability, and ease of use. You're child's safety is your first priority so choose wisely. The Graco Snugride 35 has been a recognized authority in infant/baby/toddler systems and has proven to be worth the money we put into it.

Lastly, the best thing to prepare for as new parents is to arm yourself with patience paired with a consistent warm serving of gratitude as most of it will be tested in your transition into parenthood. The moment you hold and lock eyes with your little one, you are forever changed for the better. Always trust your instinct and remind yourself in times of doubt that you are the best mommy and daddy your petite bebe can ever have.

This is for you, P & G

Congratulations and much love! ♥ ♥ ♥

* The opinions expressed on this list are by no means sponsored by any establishments, boutiques, and shops mentioned but are of my own personal preference and familiarity to the product.

One Word Wednesday (Mother's Day)

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Thu, 17 May 2012 00:52:00 +0000

Mama Things : Mother's Day

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Tue, 08 May 2012 18:30:00 +0000

1. Silver Disc earrings. 2. Floral print dress with a mis-matched sash. 3. Betsey Johnson Silver and blue bangles. 4. MAC So Chaud lipstick - Amazing color! 5. Tangerine wedges. 6. Mustard woven bag.

Woohoo Weekend

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Mon, 07 May 2012 23:12:00 +0000

A quick trip to this month's Alameda was blessed by the thrifting gods in spite of the heat, which Mandarin miraculously slept through for the most part. The wind's reprieve was fleeting, the sun searing my forehead, cheeks and arms that left me with a very bad and uneven burn right between my watch and rolled up sleeve. I made it 3/4 of the way ( and there are possibly more than 800 vendors that we're talking about here) before I finally turned around and decided to head back to the vendor that was selling a ring I couldn't stop thinking about.

Indeed.

I'm fairly particular about my rings. In the course of nearly twenty years, the rings I've worn on my fingers have evolved from modest and simple to large and bold statements. And anyone who knows me knows I wear them five or six at a time.

A few days ago, the quarter sized mother-of-pearl shell fell off my ring and into the depths of the kitchen grinder, which of course I was completely oblivious to until I switched it on and the horrendous crunch - in what I can only describe as something I may have imagined hearing from Stephen Kings's The Langoliers, rose from below. To think it survived being run over by a vehicle on the street, the first time it fell off. Lesson learned: don't buy poor quality.

So a ring to replace my bare (right) ring finger was at the top of my list. But then I couldn't resist this bargain of a vintage necklace to wear for Mother's Day and lovely bowl which I found while in search for a floral serving platter.

This antiques fair boast of amazing finds like this gorgeous Underwood typewriter - which I didn't buy by the way, but oh If I had a desk to place this lovely machine on.

Also on the list, a set of whisky glasses, a few Butterprint vintage pyrex bowls to complete the set of the one bowl I currently have.

There, Mama! More jewelry over there!

We were starving by 3:30 p.m. as we drove through the Bay Bridge and back into the city. It was a gorgeous day and it seemed that everyone who had the luxury of sailboats was out that afternoon, their crisp white sails taking wind, a stark contrast to the blue of sky above.

We ate a very late lunch and took our time spending the afternoon in the outdoor patio of Savor on 24th street. The portions were huge and filling - we took it all in without hesitation or guilt from carbs, fried, fries, meat, bacon. We were there. We were hungry. We were happy.

Back home while getting ready for bed after some downtime in the living room couch we take in the breath of the day, grateful as always.

Slipping in his pajamas my hubby says "We had a good Sunday, didn't we?"

"We had a great weekend!" I say, all smiles.

Mandarin was already asleep beside me, hugging her one armed bunny. We both huddled near her warm little body, kissed, chuckled about something and said our goodnights.

I kissed Mandarin's forehead and nuzzled into her neck, and finally figured out that the unnamed essence she always had (that I couldn't quite put my finger on) was the sweet and fruity rainbow scent of a new bag of skittles.

Friday Five : Ten

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Sat, 05 May 2012 02:54:00 +0000

1. Mickey Mouse Pancakes. 2. Water break from a morning bike ride! 3. Party Dress. 4. Lovely, lovely church with stained glass windows all around. 5. Girls in all sizes :)

Happy Friday!

Thrifting at Home

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Thu, 03 May 2012 18:20:00 +0000

It's an odd feeling; thrifting in your own house. This only applies to circumstances such as mine where my husband and I moved into a family guest house that was rarely used in the last two decades. Most of the things in it though some of them bought brand new, are now vintage so to speak. This house is one huge thrift store and the kitchen has been my favorite spot since we moved here.

It was my grandmother who thrifted and bargained her way into the little details that went into decorating the house. The furniture and pretty much everything large was bought brand new of course, some kitchen items brought in from Japan, China, the Philippines, all over the world from her travels.

While there are many many things I would actually re-purpose given the chance, re-paint and possibly re-do, there are a handful of things that I have found to be useful and lovely. I don't collect much things, really. I'm not the type to hoard things into a flurry of mismatched kitsch and display them behind glass because at the end of the day - and my mother will be proud in my saying that, they're all just dust catchers.

Well, maybe there are certain tendencies to do so I admit, which I will attribute to genetics (i.e. my grandmother) but I've so far witheld myself from thrifting myself into the oblivion of tiny treasures even if at times I would completely convince myself that it would look so pretty by my bedside.

Suddenly, having a child changes even the slightest measure of consumerism: The five way test.

Is it toxic? Are there small parts that can possibly lead to choking hazards? Can she poke herself in the eye with it? Are there sharp edges that might cut through her delicate skin? Can it break into a million pieces that she can easily pop in her mouth like pop rocks?`

So I stick with function and fashion instead. Something for the kitchen and the closet. The thrill of thrifting isn't much about getting something for a cheaper price. It's the ability to find something that you can't walk into Target for and buy a dozen of this or that. It's the nostalgia attached to the energy of things; it's like a fingerprint we leave behind but cannot see. But it's there. Vintage treasures excite my imagination and fuels my creative flow, that in itself is enough to get me going.

I've found these treasures here in my Grandmother's house. Who knows how long they've been here, whether they've been used in the last two decades, or who they originally belonged to. Cleaning up and making (storage) space in the kitchen - setting aside the more decorative household flair for more use and functionality led me into a treasure hunt of sorts. Here are five of my favorite finds - which with permission, I intend to ask for and keep. :)

Are you drooling yet? Because I certainly did when I found these pretties behind pale blue melamine cups and bowls: A set of J & G Meakin Blue Onion Nordic Cups. One of my absolute favorite finds around the house. Not quite enough for my daily caffeine consumption, but perfect for tea! If you sit by the window and squint real hard, you might just make out the English countryside as you plop a sugar cube into this cup. I think I may have even gasped when I found them.

I've named this little spring birdie, Tweet which no one else knew that is, until today. I like to name inanimate objects because I'm strange like that. I found Tweet among other collections of depression glass bunnies, ceramic owls, fish, and other wildlife up on a shelf in the living room. I would gladly get rid of all other dust catchers, except Tweet caught my shabby-chic sensibility and now stars in my blog's banner.

Nothing depressing about this lovely little green depression glass bowl. It's a home for onions and shallots and bulbs of garlic. I'm not exactly sure what it's true purpose is; fruit bowl, candy dish, a catch-all? Nonetheless, it's been hired as one of my kitchen caddies.

The crown jewel of vintage pyrex - at least for me. This Butterprint pattern Cinderella (nesting) bowls (of which I only have the largest one) are the perfect shade of turquoise and features an Amish farming scene depicting a simpler, less complicated life of days gone by. Maybe it's the color, or the fact that it's got vintage written all over it but I feel a sense of calm joy washing over me every time I pull this from the cupboard to use for baking or preparing comforting meals at home. I would definitely love to complete this set though. Hello, Ebay!

And finally, this kitschy sugar jar with no other set to match gets a second chance with me as a salt cellar. It’s deep enough to hold a lot of salt, and wide enough for that perfect pinch of seasoning. I conveniently leave it near the stove. I adore yellow/orange throwback to the sixties, colors that I am fairly obsessed with this Spring.

I can dream all day about functional vintage and fashion finds; fill my home, my kitchen, and bedroom with all the necessary details that go into making a space your own. There are things in here that come from all over the world, not that it's a cohesive collection but nonetheless, there is history between these walls and a story that goes along with every item here.

Now that I've been here for several years, the one thing I did not fully expect to find is my story. Yes, there are the idyllic childhood summers spent here with family, but most sovereign of all - the birth of our daughter, the birth of my own family. If we do eventually move on into a home that is at last ours, it will surely be a difficult goodbye. And yes, I will be taking my keepsakes with me; a principal reminder of how this part of my life began.

Friday Five: Nine

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Sat, 28 Apr 2012 22:00:00 +0000

1. Fisherman's Wharf Carousel Ride. 2. Cheeeeese! 3. Road to the Beach! 4. Zoe finger puppet. 5. Busy Bee at the beach.

Weekend Wonders

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Sat, 28 Apr 2012 06:45:00 +0000

I just crawled out of the laundry basket I lived in for the past few days. Sorting, washing, drying, folding and putting clothes back in their respective places. Our old washing machine finally sputtered into the great beyond and left us with another unexpected, albeit very necessary purchase. Yay for being an adult!

We had guests staying with us last week and it was admittedly a mad scramble to conceal the pile of clothes that had built up, the kitchen that wasn't as squeaky clean as I had hoped, and the fridge had its bottom crisper turn into a zucchini grave of sorts.

Today I am scrambling to find the words for an end of the week post about the fun and memory markers that transpired over the LAST weekend. I am way behind in posting, it's Friday and tomorrow, another weekend cycle begins again.

When did days start moving so fast?

It doesn't help that navigating with Blogger's recent face lift caught me off guard and this new terrain is making it difficult to fit work projects, home duties, blogging, and thinking all in one breath. It'll take a while before this yields to second nature stature, because certain buttons that used to be here, are no longer there. This and that.

Nonetheless in spite this and last week's adult life obstacles the past week was teeming with firsts for Mandarin.

Her first carousel ride! She seemed tentative at first, not knowing what to expect while I strapped her securely onto the big-eared bunny she chose. "Part of your World" from The Litte Mermaid started playing and the carousel came to life and steadily spun around. The wind caught her hair as she moved up and down as a wordless wow escaped her lips, such a pure moment of wonder that is now forever imprinted in my mommy bank of memories. I was of course mindlessly singing the Disney song oblivious to other parents nearby, a foreshadowing of how I may possibly embarrass my family when I revert back to an eight year old when we go to Disneyland sometime in the near future.

By the time we took our guests to Ghiradelli square, Mandarin was knocked out. Not even the lure of ice cream in Ghiradelli chocolate dipped waffle cones could rouse her. I'd wake up for chocolate on any time of day!

Saturday cranked up the heat for a birthday party complete with a Hello Kitty bouncy castle, a cotton candy machine, and an ice machine for watermelon slushies. Mandarin bounced, ran, laughed, and took food from the buffet table on her tippie toes for seven straight hours, without a nap.

I had to climb inside the bouncy castle because Mandarin refused to enter it without me - and let me tell you, I haven't been inside one of those in decades but the heat coupled with extreme bouncing (from the other kids) was not only exhausting, but nauseating and dehydrating. So within a few minutes of leaving Mandarin bouncing about, barely moving from the spot I left her, I heeded the call of instinct and took her out to play elsewhere. My brave little girl, once adjusted to a new environment can stay there for as long as time permits.

We woke up Sunday morning thinking of the slow and steady start we'd have for the day when the world beach surfaced and in an hour an a half we were up and ready to hit the sand and surf. We had to intended to meet up with friends at Half Moon Bay, relishing in the brightness of the day as we drove past the coastline of the Pacific.

Half Moon Bay, oddly enough was so foggy and sun deprived, we turned back and drove back into the warmth of the sunny side of Pacifica. Rockaway Beach, not exactly the best of beaches but the perfect place to drive to for some immediate need of some Vitamin D.

Watching waves

They'll be great friends.

We'd love to live by the Beach.

Mandarin's first encounter with sand was as expected. She was scared out of her wits and clung on to me; toes, legs, arms, and fingers - until she felt the water. As if something had turned in her mind, something familiar that she was always comfortable with. Before the receding tides pulled away for a second time, Mandarin was on her feet. Grounded into the shore, strong, unafraid of the vast expanse before her and the grainy composition of sand. The freezing water shocked me electric. It didn't seem to bother her at all because she went from being clingy to chasing tides. Soon enough, what had shortly scared her had flipped and became an opportunity for curious playing.

She called upon the waves with glee, and while many - even adults would be afraid of waves coming at them, Mandarin eagerly awaited them, and greeted the water with much bravura often times mesmerized by how her toes would be slightly buried as the tides pulled away from her feet.

This memory alone could last me a lifetime of bliss. We were so happy to watch her experience the ocean; something that will always stand before her as the boundless expanse of her being, wide and deep with all great possibilities that the world has to offer. And like the coming waves I take cue from my brave little girl and stand vigilant on shore waiting for all the wonderful adventures that will surely come and solidify as memories; sand between my toes, the cold water a constant reminder of what it means to be present.

Friday Five: Eight

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Fri, 13 Apr 2012 18:03:00 +0000

Just a few inspiring things that that we came across with in our week.

1. Spring bouquet given by Mandarin on Easter day. 2. Blue Easter Hat ($2.99!) 3. Mandarin's favorite car (The Wiggles always come to mind when she plays with this). The details are exceptional. 4. Big cheeky smile! 5. Classic Literature for toddlers - I need to have them ♥.

New Friday Five format = more room to play :)

Happy Friday!

♥

Easter Weekend

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Thu, 12 Apr 2012 01:55:00 +0000

Easter weekend delivered a healthy serving of family, friends, and felony.
Say what? You read that one right.
But first, egg hunting!

In the 15,000 spring colored eggs that quivered under every child’s breath in the verdant grass of the park, not a single one was left for my daughter and her friends. We missed the noon mark by two minutes! Which is exactly how long it took every single child in the park to bag those eggs in their pretty baskets. Last year wasn't any different either; with the girls not being able to walk just yet we merely strolled around the park.
And so, my friends and I decided right at that moment to set up camp next year, get our war paint on (lipgloss and sunscreen) and Alpha-mom our way into the park for some goodies. All in good fun, of course. :)

Trading eggs with a good friend.

Nevertheless, we were somehow prepared this year. Our contingency plan worked out well for the kids. Maybe it's a mother's instinct to do so, but we brought our own novelty filled eggs - just in case. We didn't think they'd run out of eggs, at least I didn't. I thought, if it got too crowded for our toddlers, then they can have a separate hunt of their own. Just a few minutes late. So, we soldiered on and happily scattered the eggs on the grass and let the kids run loose . It was an open park, so hiding the eggs weren't an option so we set them on the grass, a splash of color suddenly rolling around in the lush greenery.

We laughed in the face of our staged egg hunt or as my brother-in-law called it - forced fun, as I planted our colorful eggs all over the grass and without much thought I uttered "We are in charge of our children's memories" through a smile. "If they've ran out of eggs for us, we bring our own".

And why not? Because at the end of the day it doesn't matter who put those eggs there as long as it was fun for everyone. It pleasantly caught me by surprise too, what mother's are willing to do for their Littles. If only for the good and happy memories it will create.

Kids of all ages.

Which now brings me to the felony.

The buffet place we decided on for lunch after our time in the sun had a little corner with a wooden bench all set up in pink and pastel for the Easter Bunny. Mandarin was running back and forth across the room playing with her friends, probably fueled by general aroma of sugary sweets on the dessert isle. Suddenly I noticed her dart across one end of the the room towards our area, our friend's daughter on her tail, and a staff member of the restaurant behind her.

Apprently, Mandarin had borrowed the (toy) carrot from the Easter Bunny's lair. She was running as fast as her feet could hustle, mouth open, wind in her hair, holding up the plastic carrot like an Olympian's torch. She went straight for the wall right next to the fire exit door where we were seated nearby and cornered, had no option but to give me the carrot. Which she did, willingly, followed by a wailing complaint that took several minutes to pacify.

We all had a good laugh and while this memory of Easter weekend will probably be one of those that will be re-told in many of our dinner tables through the years, I was sadly too slow to draw out the camera for photo evidence.

Of course, at this age she still doesn't know any better and I wondered if she took in any of the lessons I tried to instill in her at the moment about not taking what's not yours and not complaining when asked to return something.

Silly Rabbit.

Easter Sunday was uplifting. We were out and about with family; Mandarin picked out some wildflowers and gave me my very first spring bouquet. It doesn't matter that they came from weeds, they were lovely and heartwarming just the same.

Back home we fired up the grill and got creative in the backyard with some sidewalk chalk. Suddenly, the cosmos appeared on the pavement and all other possibilities emerged, like shapes and balls and a finger's taste of chalk - that did not seem appealing for a second helping.

Chalk dust is not tasty.

We spun around in circles and laughed out loud with abandon. And the day fizzled out with a smile on everyone's face.

We face the week ahead full of opportunities to make good of something that unexpectedly goes wrong.

Much like having all your eggs in one basket, colorful and creative ideas are there for the taking. You just have to pick one, crack it open and see what surprise lies ahead.

Seven Years Hitched

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Thu, 05 Apr 2012 05:53:00 +0000

I'm not entirely sure why they call it the seven year itch. This idiom has made its way through the pages of George Axelrod's play to the movie with Marylyn Monroe and finally into our every day lives. Enough of it at least that it's the first thing that comes to mind when everyone finds out that you've been married for seven years and pretty much all other years in proximity to the seventh. Sixth year: seven year itch is coming up. Uh-oh. Eighth year: You survived. How was it? It's not the Mayan Calendar of marriages, and it is certainly not the end, at least for most people.

Do couples really feel as if by some invisible hand that they've been cordoned off into some subconscious section where there is an inclination to be unfaithful, lose touch with their spouses and ultimately the very partnership they share? I highly doubt that it takes seven years for a marriage to get testy, especially these days. You have marriages lasting months, weeks, even days.

We don't belong there, because we choose not too. I think my hubby and I have been fortunately blessed that, in spite of the fact that we argue like two kids in a sandbox at times, we make up for it with surprise attacks of affection. And bouts of laughter. Seven years married, yes. But we've been together for fifteen years. I always say, if we had a child in our first year together we'd have an angst-ridden teen by now who chews gum all the time and doesn't look you in the eye when being spoken to.

So, this weekend - Sunday (hardly date night) we arranged some family members to spend some time with Mandarin for a few hours and we made our way to the city. When you've been running around with a toddler and all the necessary strings attached to having one, it felt odd just carrying my purse and not watching out for the stroller, Mandarin's quilted jacket, her backpack, sippy cup, and snacks. Ah, the glorious entourage of motherhood.

I opted out of horse drawn carriage rides, baroque serenades, the opera tickets and the general Jane Austen package in what we may now consider date night of the 21st century. Watching twenty-four tributes hack each other to death and fight for their lives only to survive the daily toils of dystopia. This, followed by a meal of designer cucumber slices with fancy words like lemon aioli and a fat, juicy slab of steak. Dinner and a movie.

We haven't been on a date since Tori Amos' concert, haven't seen a movie (in theaters) for about a year and half and haven't been on a dinner date since Mandarin was born. As simple as it was, it was a perfect way to spend our anniversary. Nothing extravagant. A seemingly regular thing to do even on a weeknight and something we ourselves used to do, and yet given much gravitas this time around just because for a few hours, we can be just another couple you see on the street.

It felt familiar, like the echo of your own voice, of a life that tunnels behind you. It felt - for a sliver of a moment there, like something was missing. Maybe it was holding Mandarin's little hands, or being used to carrying her on my hip, or having her trail along with us - the very basic rhythm of family life when being out and about, that being a couple suddenly felt oddly, new. Off beat, even.

Isn't that strange? Being parents is what we now consider to be normal. Of course, it's not like you lose parenthood just because your children are back home. It just brings the obvious into context; often forgotten by the daily hustle of family life. Date night should be an integral part of any relationship, and this day reminded us of that. It doesn't matter whether it's dinner and a movie, a Radiohead concert (which I'd gladly take any day!), or a beer in the backyard.

Walking into the cinema level, though seemingly mundane was like seeing an old friend and pleasantly discovering you're still able to pick up where you left off - so we manage to find our bearings soon enough and ease into each other's company, just like old times.

Navigating through the adventures of marriage and seven years into being hitched; well that's good anchorage right there.

Lighting was very dim at the lounge, these are the salvaged photos from my phone - thanks to Photoshop!

Driving through sunday night's subdued Embarcadero was peaceful to say the least. The glimmer of streetlights, the open street, emptied restaurants and bars that are otherwise teeming with life on other days of the week was a refreshing sight to see. My husband mentions that we can turn up the music tonight because Mandarin isn't sitting behind - no delicate eardrums to ruin. And what pleasure it was, even if for a fifteen minute ride, to channel the music deep in your bones, a kindred thing he and I used to do from the time we met in college. Some things, thankfully, never changed in the last fifteen years. So we turn up Cage the Elephant as we veered into the freeway and eagerly made our way home.

Friday Five: Seven

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Fri, 30 Mar 2012 22:27:00 +0000

1. Crystal chandeliers - at the BEST fish tacos in town. That's San Francisco for you. We inhaled those tacos before you can say, Guacamole!

2. Mandarin meets Nila. Pure love.

3. Someone needs a morning nap - the cookie jar too.

4. FINALLY figured out how to wear a sock on my head. The Sock Bun. :)

5. Catching up on some reading. Three cheers if you can guess what book I've got my nose buried in.

Happy Friday!

♥ ♥ ♥

Mama Things

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Tue, 27 Mar 2012 21:30:00 +0000

via:

1. White pompom scarf. 2. Yellow Wooden Bangles. 3. (Vintage Print) Hawaiian Dress. 4. House of Harlow Sunnies.

5. Brown Saddle Bag. 6. Yellow Saltwater sandals.

The sea beckons this month. I keep eyeing these yellow saltwater sandals both for me and Mandarin like it was the last fried chicken in the bucket. Although I wonder, with our Bay Area weather, when does it get really warm for sandals? Nonetheless, I covet the sunshine they can possibly bring to my stride.

I don't think I've ever liked yellow and all its golden hues this much in my life; I even bought daffodils at the grocery store. Daffodils! It's almost like a Vitamin D deficiency.

I think I should get some sun soon. ♥ ♥ ♥

Chocolate Chip Banana Bread

noreply@blogger.com (PM) — Fri, 23 Mar 2012 17:48:00 +0000

There was a time when I was a banana bread purist. No nuts, no glaze, just a plain sweet slice of banana transcendence.

But then, the internet happened.

I was looking through All Recipes.com looking for dinner ideas one afternoon when my eye caught sight of our fruit bowl and a bundle of extremely spotted bananas (which turned out to be worse looking than on the inside). So after searching for Banana Bread recipes, I came across one that seemed different from the rest.

Within a few minutes, I gathered my constituents for a baking powwow and went to work.

Gently tap the pan on the counter to even out the batter and to remove any air pockets.

The recipe called for 1 hour and 10 minutes of baking time but after conducting my toothpick test, the bread wasn't cooked enough in my opinion, so I let it sit there for another 5 minutes. Or maybe I just wanted the neighbors to get a whiff of the lingering goodness that was baking in my oven.

oh sweet lord.

Recipe and video link below.

Chef John's Banana Bread

Ingredients:

Cooking spray

3 ripe bananas

2 cups all purpose flour

1 tsp. salt

1 tsp. baking powder

1 tsp. baking soda

1/2 cup softened butter

1 cup white sugar

2 large eggs

1/4 tsp. vanilla extract

1 tbs. milk

1/3 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

* 1 cup chopped walnuts (optional)

Directions:

1. Preheat your oven to 325 degrees F (or 165 degrees C)

2. Grease a 9x4 inch loaf pan.

3. Mash ripe bananas in a bowl.

4. Whisk together flour, salt, baking powder, and baking soda in a separate bowl.

5. Cream the butter and sugar until smooth.

6. Stir in the mashed bananas.

7. Add eggs to the mixture, one at a time - fully blending each egg before adding the next.

8. Stir in the vanilla and the milk.

9. Stir in the flour mixture and chocolate chips until just incorporated.

10.Pour batter into prepared loaf pan. Tap pan on the counter to release air pockets.

11.Bake in pre-heated oven for * 1 hour and 10 minutes. (I added 5 minutes to mine) or until an inserted wooden skewer comes out clean.

12. Let the bread rest in the pan for 15-20 minutes. Remove from pan. Slice and serve.