A Piece Of Poland

We stopped at a Hamtramck hot spot last Sunday after Packard for some good Polish eats. Brian used to live in Hamtramck and this was his favorite Polish restaurant: Polish Village Cafe.

Dill Pickle Soup!!!! Yum!!!

The pics are Brian's.

A Winter Solstice Soirée

The Wild House was a rockin' and a rollin' on Saturday night. We shipped the tiny mammals off to Grampapa's house and we hosted Heather's company's holiday party. A house full of OT's and PT's, and even Santa Claus heard the ruckus and came to see what was up! I'm afraid some of the guests will find that they have been transferred over to the naughty list after this bash. There was dancing, wrestling, chatting, yelling, and even a broken wine glass.

I love the cultural diversity of Heather's workplace. At a party like this you can really see how many different kinds of people are living in our town. I grew up in a rapidly diversifying city and I love different cultures. I could never live in a city where everyone looked or thought like me. That would feel alien and strange. This feels like home.







The result of all this mixing of cultures was the greatest variety of succulent dishes I have seen in one place in a long time. Oh the food!!!

We had black eyed peas with pork, and real southern corn bread (not the northern "corn cake" kind, the heavenly stuff with no sugar and lots of pork fat, cooked in smoking-hot cast iron on the stovetop). Home-made pierogis stuffed with cheese and potatoes. Asian ribs with a spicy fire-red sauce. Parathas and biryani that smelled so good they pulled me across the room towards them as if they had cast a spell on me. Some kind if Thai noodle dish that I would have inhaled had I not been in the midst of other hungry diners. Fried chicken. Exotic salads. An aromatic type of rolled up corn tortilla filled with spicy meat. I could go on but I am getting hungry again.


Santa hogged the main floor bathroom for the better part of an hour. I was starting to think he might have expired in there, and a line of cross-legged guests was forming down the hall when he popped out in all his red and white pudgy glory.

Since no kids were allowed at this party, it was all grownups on Santa's lap. I really don't think he minded much, since they were mostly exotic young women who by nature of their training know how to give perfect backrubs.

The later part of the evening was all about dancing and rowdiness. It was a blast...and we're just now getting to the bottom of the glorious leftovers.

More Food, Of Course

Mom & Pops came over for dinner last night. I made fettuccine with pesto and a cabbage salad. The pesto was made using Heather's very special "Porch Basil", which is an intelligent, cultured, and much more refined species than that dreaded "Yard Basil". :)

Here are some scenes from the table...

Lucky Like That

The Wilds are eaters. And by that I mean we eat. The mere act of eating is elevated in my family to a true high art form.

We are not vacuum cleaners though. Or catfish. We don't just eat anything. We're fairly spoiled and we like good food. Not necessarily expensive food, but good food. And we can tell the difference. We're lucky like that.

Our week-long reunions are veritable bacchanalias of incredible food. Each night a different family cooks and it's always fabulous. Tapas one night, Mediterranean the next, Indian, authentic Mexican, it's a joy-fest of titanic proportions.

Great food stories and legends pervade my family's history. We've got a sixth sense about food. We can tell innately when good food is in the general area, and also have some inkling as to its directionality. There is a tingling, a disturbance in the "food-force" and our ears perk up and our tummies rumble when something food-ish is about to happen.

We're especially good at buffets. We always find ourselves ideally situated when the dinner bell rings, and our tables are almost always selected first to eat. We're lucky like that.

I remember a certain wedding in Antigua Guatemala, attended by the ex-president of that country, who was the bride's father. My luck was so good that night that when dinner was announced, I found myself ideally situated and ended up in line right after the bride and groom, but before the president. Brian was proud of me. It was inevitable that one of us would score that coup, because we're lucky like that.