Big Mac Attack

I recently boasted lamented that I could eat a Big Mac in six bites. The truth is, I've never actually counted how many bites it takes me to finish the sandwich.

So I decided to find out.

Well, it's less than six bites. And that was with very little effort.

Who knows -- maybe if I pushed myself I could finish a Big Mac in one bite.

[Click through for the video.]

This is how the pros do it.

Maybe the Native Americans Will Save our Asses

We planted a potato this year. And despite our Irish ancestry, our harvest was less than, um, bountiful. If we were among the original settlers in the New World, you could pretty much guarantee we would be the last of our line. Forget making it through the winter, we wouldn't have made it to opening week of the NFL season. (I wonder if the Bengals were as terrible then as they are now?)

Here are the whopping three delicious looking potatoes we hauled in this year.

Not exactly enough to feed a family of six.

And by family of six, I mean six mice.

Yes, those are actual Idaho potatoes (as grown in Ohio).

Julie thinks it's hysterical. Truman wants to know if I grew them small on purpose. Jameson thinks we're going to starve. Personally, I'm optimistic. By this time next year I bet I'll be growing potatoes the size of quarters.

Truth in Advertising

Call me crazy, but there's just something wrong with starting your day with a breakfast called "Nutty Nuggets."

Are they describing the cereal or your next bathroom visit?

Forbidden Fruit

I guess I just kinda assumed Amelia knew how to eat a whole apple. I mean, isn't it one of those innate things that humans have been doing since, you know, the beginning?

Maybe not.

Gross.

Point! Truman!

This very morning...

Truman: "Can I hab a cupcake?"

Me: "No."

Truman: "Tlease! I want a cupcake!"

Me: "No. You can't have a cupcake for breakfast."

Truman: "Tleeeeeease!"

Me:  "No. No cupcakes for breakfast."

Truman: "WHY NOT?!"

Me: "They're not good for your body."

Truman:  "BUT THEY'RE GOOD FOR MY MOUTH!"

His Mexican Half

I'll have the Blazin' please.

A few weeks ago we were at our favorite family breakfast spot, First Watch.  It's a regular morning hangout of ours -- the kids know most of the waiters and waitresses and they know us.  Eating out with four kids younger than age five can sometimes be tough, so it's nice to have this routine with which the kids are very familiar.  They know what's expected and what to expect, so things usually go pretty smoothly.

As with many breakfast spots, the tables here are adorned with a temple of sugars, creamers, jellies and other condiments.  Not surprisingly, these food flavoring shrines draw a lot of attention from the kids.  On this particular visit, Truman was inhaling his food as usual, but was also insistent on grabbing the hot sauce from the middle of the table and begging us to add some to his plate.  Eventually I indulged him and poured a small pool on his plate to let him experiment.  With his demands finally satisfied, Truman proceeded to take a piece of his ham and slather it in his hot sauce.  Confidently, yet cautiously, he raised the piece to his mouth.  Sticking out just the very tip of his tongue he sampled his new spicy dipping sauce.  After a few moments of savory contemplation, he blew on the piece of ham (as if it's temperature were too hot) and then popped the whole thing in his mouth.  He continued to finish all of his ham, coating each piece in hot sauce.

I love hot sauce, but I was more than a little surprised that Truman, at two years old, would find it palatable.  Still, I assumed this was just a fluke event on a random morning out for breakfast.  Or so I thought until I made a hotdog for Truman at lunch one day and he demanded hot sauce as an accompaniment.  I checked and double checked to make sure it wasn't catsup that he actually wanted.  "No.  I want hot sauce."

So he polished off a hotdog with hot sauce.

Maybe it's time he and I paid a visit to B-Dubs.

Worth Killing a Pumpkin

The pumpkin seeds were delicious. Hot apple cider helps. With or without spiced rum...

The Worcestershire sauce gave them just enough kick. Hot sauce might be an option, too. I may have to carve another pumpkin to find out.

Still working on my food photography skills. Seems to be one of the more difficult subjects to master.