Chilam Balam

Have I written about Chilam Balam? No? I should have, a looong time ago. Maybe I didn't because I kind of wanted to keep it quiet so I can get a table when I go. But it deserves my attention, and everyone else's, for that matter.
I have been to Chilam Balam at least eight times in the last couple of years. It's location, on Broadway and Barry, makes it ideal for married dates on the days we have any event at Not so Little L's school. But I have also gone with my friends, and I even celebrated my birthday there last year. The space is small, but very cozy and warm thanks to the decoration. I particularly love the metal star lamps, which give it quite an ambiance.
The menu changes every month to accommodate seasonal and local ingredients. This last time we had a lobster chimichanga that was delicious. The Mexican influence were there, in the sauce and the chimichanga itself, but instead of overpowering the lobster, which happens often, they enhanced its flavor. We followed with the roasted beet tamal. It was a good tamal, moist and filling, and a great counterpoint to the lobster. I would have liked to find a little bit more of beet taste, but it was the first day of this particular menu, so they may improve that. And my husband was happy it didn't, as he doesn't like beets. As a main course, DH chose rabbit. I cannot talk about it, as I don't eat rabbit (along with many other things, a defect that sadly prevents me from being either a chef or a food critic), but he ate it quickly while smiling, so I assume it was good. My swordfish was delicious. I like strong steak like fishes, and this one was exceptional. It was grilled to perfection, and the butternut squash mole, sweet potato mash and apple salad that accompanied it couldn't have complemented it better. The pomegranate grains in the apple salad gave a crunch and an acidic contrast to the rest of the plate.
For dessert, as usual (and no one will convince me to change) I ordered the chocolate-chile mousse with spiced goat cheese center and toasted marshmallow sauce. This is heaven on a plate. Every time I order it it is as amazing. If you like dark chocolate, this may be your dessert. I normally don't like marshmallows, but in sauce for to balance the bitterness of the chocolate mousse I love it. The goat cheese is unexpected as a filling for a chocolate mousse, and therefore makes it even more interesting. For my birthday I am seriously considering going there for dinner and ordering one of these for each appetizer, entree and dessert. 
Note that it is BYOB, and cash only. The service is impeccable, and normally you always see the same people working there, which is nice. Their recommendations are valuable if you are overwhelmed by how good everything sounds in the menu. 
If you go and try it, please, let mo know whether you liked it or not. They will appreciate your visit, and I will appreciate your feedback. And don't miss that chocolate mousse...

Roasted beet tamal

Swordfish with butternut squash mole

Chocolate-chile mousse with spiced goat cheese center and toasted marshmallow sauce

One year

Exactly one year ago, Pablo had surgery to get his cochlear implant. That same sentence, written in the future tense the day before he was going to be implanted sounded terrifying. 

Let's start with the topical "I don't know where the last year went". Or with "I can't believe it has been one year already". They may be overused, but absolutely true today. I guess I know where time went. Time went to therapy, lots of playing, repeating words one thousand times a week, splitting them in syllables, playing some more, traveling, getting used to carrying electronic devices on strollers, planes, handbags, cars and the likes. 

Looking at the pictures, and talking with other parents who haven't gone through it yet, I remember how scared I was of the operation itself. It took me a long time to agree to start the cochlear implant process. Taking huge decisions like this for others is not easy, but I haven't regretted it one single day. I was scared of the surgery itself, of the general anesthesia, of having my happy, bubbly beautiful baby change into someone else, someone not as happy. Scared of it not working. 

All those fears proved to be unfounded. As you can see in the pictures, he was my happy boy again already in our ride back home from the hospital. The three hours of surgery felt like three years to me, but he recovered amazingly well and was running around the same night of the surgery. There were no complications. He was upset for maybe half an hour, and that was it. The implant is working. 

Now I have different fears. I am scared of losing the device (those things are not cheap to replace), of me not dedicating enough time to his recovery, of making the wrong decision regarding a second implant (I am still at a no), of choosing the wrong school for next year. 

In the meanwhile, he has gone from saying mamá and agua pre implant to having a wider range of vocabulary, particularly if it concerns wheeled things, from being quiet to a constant choo choo chatter while he plays, from mamá to papá, Lucas, abuelos, Miguel, Ines, Natalia, and so many more that he is learning every day. 

This whole process has helped me get to know my son better: he is resilient, generous, patient, stubborn, and has a high tolerance for therapy. He is bright, and lights my world every morning when he comes to my bed every morning. He is irresistible. He is strong. And now i know that no matter what, he will do well, even if his mom messes up in the way. 

Pablo one hour after surgery, and on his way home from the hospital.

Pablo a few days ago

Dr. Martens

I haven't been this excited about a pair of shoes in a long time, probably since I bought my only pair of Manolos for my best friend's wedding in the pre-kids era. I saw these boots in a store window a couple of months ago, and I fell in love with them. It's not the beautiful brown color, the inner fabric resembling British wall paper, or the fact that they have satin ribbon for laces. It is nostalgia. Pure nostalgia. Because I have a history with Dr. Martens. When I was fifteen, as I was dating punk boys, and had a liking for alternative music, short plaid skirts, and anything that would horrify my parents, I asked my cousin, who was traveling to London, to get me a pair of black, ten hole, Dr. Martens. I didn't like eight hole, steel toe ones, which was the only thing you could get in my Spanish town back then. So I was very excited when he came back with my boots, that I paid with the allowances I had saved for months (I know that this story would be more enticing if I had earned that money working, but it was Spain, and teenagers don't work there). As the ones I just bought, they smelled like leather, and were extremely comfortable (I never convinced my dad of this). Actually, they were so comfortable that I wore them for five straight years, all year long. They started college with me. They went out endless nights in Vitoria and its bars. They made it back to England with me when I went there to practice English for the first time, the summer I turned eighteen. And I just stopped wearing them when they had a hole big enough to fit my toe. If my mother hasn't thrown them away, as she swore she would many times, I will take a picture of them to post it here when I go home for Christmas. They deserve some sort of homage. I hope that the one's I bought today last as long, and I can write about them in fifteen years, at which point I will embarrass my kids instead of my parents when I wear them.

 And since I am getting old enough to be nostalgic, maybe this January I will ask the Three Wise Men (aka Reyes Magos) to bring me a pair of Panama Jacks like the ones that preceded my Dr. Martens. I just checked, and they are still selling them. And they even have them in green!!!