Wednesday, April 21, 2010
We have a tiny carnivore. Actually, she's not so much about the cow as she is about the bird. She loves her chicken. She likes chicken for breakfast, chicken for lunch, and chicken for dinner. She's even handed me an unfinished petit four for a bite of chicken. Crazy. Thinking about my pregnancy with Mari, I don't recall eating a whole lot of chicken, but when I think really hard, I think maybe I did. We wanted to avoid all of the added hormones in beef and I was limited to certain types of fish. Free range chickens were easy to come by.
With that said, we can pretty much get Mari to sit down and eat a healthy meal, so long as there is chicken. Tonight we had La Paloma. I get the flautas, Don gets a variety of the 99 cent tacos, and we get a side of their beans. Mari will typically eat half the side of beans. Except tonight, the beans were runnier than normal. Good because there might not have been as much lard in it (I know, I know), bad because it wasn't the texture Mari wanted. Not only did she not have her salsa (they like to make it REALLLLLY HOT), but she didn't have any chicken. After a bit of mild fussing, requesting chihhh-kehhn, I handed over my remaining chicken flauta. She was happily dipping it into her runny beans, peeling away the outer layer of fried tortilla, revealing the chicken. At the end of her meal, the chicken from the flauta had been consumed and she'd lathered on a healthy layer of beans into her hair and face. Mari must know a secret healing and rejuvenating quality of refried beans. ha!
She ♥'s chicken!