Act I: Hello darkness my old friend

If sleeping anywhere, in any position was a superpower, I’d be a superhero named narcolespy girl.  I can pretty much sleep in any position much to the envy of friends and family.  That said, I usually log in about 4-6 hours on most transatlantic flights and am pretty much ready to hit the ground running when I land.  This was the case in London.  After my first night in London, I was wide awake at 3 am.  It was actually pretty quiet by 6 am so I decided to take a stroll and take a few photos of quiet London, the London you’ll never see during its waking hours when it’s packed with cars and tourists.

Here’s something you don’t see every day — a scarf in a letterbox.

London, my old cat

Let me start with a great quote about London. 

London does not reveal itself with one shower of dazzle as Paris does; she is an old cat, secretive and independent, and although she enjoys purring pleasantly, being stroked once in a while, and, when she has the mind to, rubbing her back against your leg, she doesn’t care that much to wag her tail and sit up prettily, like the excited poodle cities.  Her pace is slow, and so must yours be (and that of a travel writer); she will not be rushed into showing her hiding places.

Kate Simon

I was just in London earlier this week.  I was gone for exactly 7 days, 2 of which were spent on a transatlantic flight.  A friend was celebrating his 25th wedding anniversary with a silver ceilidh, a Scottish dancing party.  Everyone asks if I took pictures of the ceilidh.  No, I was too busy dancing.  Anyway, photos don’t really capture the essence of what a ceilidh is the way Youtube can.  Here’s a snippet some someone else’s ceilidh — a dance I have done called “Strip the Willow.”  Sounds a bit like “Go out back and find me a switch” but it’s really quite pleasant.

Back to London itself.  I’ve been to London six times in the past ten years.  That’s a lot of mileage.  I’ll post some stories from my trip in five acts.

Bringing Up Baby

I’m spending a few days with my little niece while my brother is out of town on a business trip.  Thankfully, he had the good judgment to purchase and set up a brand new iMac loaded with all his pics of the baby before I arrived.

Happily, I cooked meals for both of us while Lizet was constantly tending to the baby’s insatiable appetite.  In moments of quiet (they have been few) I snuck away and borrowed some pics of the baby from the iMac.

Being with a newborn 24/7 requires having a good sense of humor when the baby pees on you, spits up on you, or cries inconsolably because no matter what you do, you’re not her mommy.  Thanks to Sienna’s incomparable cuteness, I weathered through it all.   Fortunately for me, Lizet took care of some of the worst case scenarios like the blowout bowel movement that soiled the baby’s clothes and back.  (A trip to the grocery store spared me from that one!)

Imagine Mexico was playing a World Cup match against a team of joint Japan-China team. In this case, Mexico clearly won the battle of the genes as Sienna looks a lot more like her Mexican great-grandma than her Chinese one.

Here’s a pic of Roscoe as a small but strong puppy.  He used to be the baby of the house but now he’s Sienna’s babysitter.  Poor dog didn’t see that coming!

Kirei / Guapa / Mei-li

Kirei is beautiful in Japanese.  Guapa is beautiful in Spanish.  Mei-li is beautiful in Chinese.  Those are the words I would use to describe my three week old niece Sienna.  She’s so special, above-average in so many ways to me, because she is a combination of three nationalities.

Upon first glance, she looks really Asian.  Especially when she’s sleeping.

But when she opens her eyes, she sometimes looks Latin and other times Asian. She doesn’t cry when strangers pick her up, but she does look intently at you and perks up when you speak to her in a high pitched voice. She’s happiest when swaddled tightly like a burrito and will happily fall asleep on your chest. She’s such a mellow baby except when it’s time to change her diaper or change her clothes. During the first four hours of my visit, we had to change her diaper 4 times and her clothes 3 times. After her bath, three adults scrambled to dress her in record time to soothe her baby cries of distress which only ended after she was dressed and wrapped up tightly in a blanket.

Sienna is so beautiful — we are all enchanted by her.

The bun has left the oven!

Be careful what you wish for.  Seriously.  I was talking to some friends about my sister-in-law’s pregnancy and I said “I wish Lizet would have the baby this weekend so I could come down and see it over the long weekend.”  Well, that’s exactly what happened.

Thankfully everything went without a hitch for my favorite newbie parents.  Although I only spent an hour with the baby, I have a feeling she’s going to be pretty low maintenance.  She only fusses when we do things like change her diaper or adjust her blanket.  When it’s all over, she lulls right back to sleep.  She’s also a very heavy sleeper like her Obasan (that would be me — the Japanese word for Aunty).  She slept like a rock while being passed among three relatives, all who cooed nonstop for almost an hour. 

Here she is.  6 pounds 15 ounces, 19 inches long, full head of black hair, compulsory blue birthmark on her backside (proof of membership to the Mongolian race).  Her name is Sienna Kira Young.  Later on in the day, my brother asked me if seeing Sienna made me want to have a baby of my own.  Nah, I don’t want a baby . . .  I want THAT baby!  She’s perfect!

Encatadora

Encatadora is the Spanish word for charming.  That’s the best way I can describe Spanish singer Maria Rodes.  Her video for Lo que hay que oir was playing constantly on Canal TV in Barcelona and Paris.  In spite of it’s adorable melody, it’s actually a sad song about growing tired of the person you’re with.  (At least that’s what I could gather from my crude translation of the lyrics from Spanish.)  

I have to admit, part of the appeal of this song is the windup toy sounds at the end of the song.  They remind me so much of toys I remember playing with as a small child, especially when I couldn’t sleep at night and went from room to room in the house, watching with envy as everyone else in the house was fast asleep.

Here’s Maria Rodes’s video for Lo que hay que oir, shot beautifully in some of the most recognizable spots of Paris in the wintertime.  It’s a simple yet lovely video and Maria es muy encatadora!  The “subtitle” cards will make you want to learn Spanish.

The funniest man in Europe – Part III

I like to think that my dad would make the perfect spy.  With his cover as a nerdy American tourist, no one would ever suspect him of having an agenda or even being “on the ball” about anything.  Here’s a pic of my dad under his cover of an oblivious American tourist, secretly taking pictures for the CIA.

The reality of traveling with my father in a foreign country, however, is that my dad does match his cover — he does a lot of kooky things when he leaves home.

When lost in Istanbul, buy whatever they’re selling

We had just one day in Istanbul and the cruise ship had sent a pickup shuttle every half hour to pick up passengers and bring them back to the ship.  The pickup spot was at the Grand Bazaar.  We spent a good morning at the Grand Bazaar but were more interested in visiting the Spice Market where the locals shopped.  After following the rudimentary map the cruise ship provided, we found the Spice Market and bought a lot of candy and apple tea. 

As we were nearing the time of the last shuttle pickup, my mom and I were worried about making it back to the Grand Bazaar in time.  My father, on the other hand, was not concerned at all.  It was starting to rain and we were trying to figure out the way back to the Grand Bazaar.  Getting lost in a foreign country is no fun.  Getting lost in a crowded city in a foreign country when it’s starting to rain is even less fun.   What was my father doing while we were trying to get back to the shuttle meeting point?  He was chowing down on all the savories of Istanbul street food.  While my mom is asking a shopkeeper for directions, my dad bought a gyro sandwich.  After making our way up an alley that put us in the right direction, my dad made us stop so he could buy some orange juice.  (It’s still raining all this time.)  And then, someone is selling bottled water so my dad makes us stop so he can buy bottled water too.   I have to admit, it was a little gratifying to know that my dad had to use the WC at the Grand Bazaar, which was inevitably stinky and nasty.

Why am I so clumsy?

My friend Deanna and I once had a heated debate over whether that was the name of a chapter of a book we both love.  (It isn’t.)  It does, however, describe the danger of traveling with my dad in a foreign country.  For some unknown reason, my dad’s coordination and balance are suddenly thrown off when he’s not on U.S. soil.  As we were wandering the streets of Istanbul, trying to find the shuttle meeting point at the Grand Bazaar, my father almost tripped over a series of 2 foot poles on the sidewalk (they were barriers to prevent cars from going down a part of the street) and bounced down the street.  The kind people of Istanbul were too serious-minded to laugh.

When we were in Italy, we learned that 22 meters of hot spewing ash from Mount Vesuvius killed all the inhabitants of Pompeii.  There was, however, another lesser known lurking danger that almost killed my dad in Pompeii — the steps of the entrance.  For some unknown reason, my father lost his footing on the very shallow, unslippery, undangerous steps of the entrance to Pompeii and almost made one of the most dramatic and comical entrances that would merit a pat on the back from Jerry Lewis.  For a second there, I was wondering if the cruise ship could make arrangements for us to bury my father at sea.

Following the German Family

When it comes to hearing, my dad is a bit like a cat.  He doesn’t hear a thing my mother and I say.  It was a miracle we managed to stay together.  On a crowded train departing from Rome, an older German woman sat in the seat next to me across from my parents.  When her daughter told her in German it was time for them to get off at the next stop, my dad woke up, leapt out of his seat and was ready to follow the German family off the train.  The German family’s stop was not, however, our stop.  I told my mom several times during our trip “I wonder what would have happened if we let Daddy walk off with that German family?”

Let’s see Downtown Mykonos

Our boat tendered us to the island of Mykonos one bright sunny day.  On Mykonos, there are about 6,000 year-round inhabitants and about 20,000 more in the summer.  We wandered through the white-washed narrow streets and alleys and found a pleasant sunny restaurant for lunch.  We had amazing seafood there.  During our meal, the resident giant pink pelican, Petros, came in to visit the restaurant owner.  The restaurant owner gave Petros a drink of water and patted him on the head.  We took pictures of my dad with the pelican and when my dad tried to pat Petros on the head, Petros tried to bite my dad’s thigh with his beak.  After our meal of incredibly fresh seafood, we were all so satisfied and happy.  My dad stretched out his arms and then said “Okay, let’s see downtown Mykonos!”  I told him “We’re already in downtown Mykonos!”  My dad couldn’t believe it.  Downtown Mykonos was a series of tiny whitewashed streets and alleys and we had covered it in about 30 minutes. 

Here’s a picture of my dad with the bird who tried to eat his leg.

The Hunger Signal

Like a small child who cannot articulate what’s bothering him, my dad rants and raves and get really grumpy when he’s hungry.  On our first day in Europe, my parents exchanged money at the change bureau at the Charles de Gaulle airport which included a high commission fee.  My dad was so offended by this commission fee, he used words like “How could they do this to me?  I can’t believe the French government allows them to legally rip me off like that!”  These people think they’re better than me!”  Throughout our trip, my mom and I heard repeats of the CDG exchange bureau rant up to a week after the indicident originally happened.  We soon realized that every time my dad would rant about the CDG exchange bureau, it meant that he was hungry and it was time to grab a snack or a meal.  It became my dad’s hunger signal.

My dad’s imaginary cup of coffee in Monte Carlo

One really redeeming thing about my dad is that even he can laugh at his own ridiculousness.  Dovetailing on his rant of the exchange bureau experience at the Paris airport, I made up a story about my dad trying to buy a cup of coffee in Monte Carlo, one of the most expensive cities in the world.  We learned that in order to get into the casino in Monte Carlo, one must first meet the dress code and second, pass the credit check.  One’s credit check determines how far you get into the casino.  On that note, I played out the following scenario which my dad and mom really enjoyed:

Monaco Cafe Owner: Hello sir.  Are you here to fix the leaky sink in the back?

My father: No, I’d like to have a cup of coffee in your cafe.

Monaco Cafe Owner: I’m deeply sorry to inform you that you are only appropriately dressed to fix our sink.  If Monsieur, however, desires to drink our coffee, we can arrange to serve you on the sidewalk.

My father: Okay, I’ll drink the coffee out here.  Can I sit at this table?

Monaco Cafe Owner: Monsieur’s credit rating does not qualify Monsieur to sit at the table.  Would Monsieur kindly stand away from the tables, perhaps in this area  below the sidewalk that you Americans call “zhe gutter”?  And now, sir, what kind of coffee would Monsieur like to drink?

My father: I would like a cafe machiatto.

Monaco Cafe Owner: It is our deep regret to inform Monsieur that your credit does not qualify you to purchase a cafe machiatto.  Your credit, however, does allow sir to purchase some pleasant instant coffee — we call it “Nescafe.”

My father: Okay, that’s fine.

Monaco Cafe Owner: Very well sir.  I must also inform Monsieur that your credit does not qualify you to drink the Nescafe in our porcelain cafe cup and saucer.  You may, however, enjoy it in this styrofoam cup.  Also, there is a small cover charge for standing on the Monte Carlo sidewalk and an additional language translation fee because Monsieur does not speak the language of the Monaco.  Your bill comes to 75 euros.  We normally accept credit card but because of Monsieur’s credit rating, we must accept payment in cash only.

The funniest man in Europe – Part II

On this particular cruise, the majority of passengers were much older than my parents.  In spite of their age, they seem to be a pretty savvy bunch, especially in comparison to my father.  Here are some stories about my dad from our cruise.

Returning the Rental Car

The day we boarded the ship, we were so grateful to finally rid ourselves of the giant albatross around our necks that was our barely used European rental car.  After getting lost, we miraculously found the Marco Polo Airport in Venice and the rental car parking lot.  We unloaded our bags from the car, and my mom and I watched my dad return the rental car to its parking spot.  I remember letting out a sigh of relief thinking “Finally, we’re unloading the rental car and we don’t have to worry about all those angry Italian drivers anymore!”  The minute that thought passed through my mind, my mother and I witnessed my dad put the car in reverse  and then 1) knock down the rental car sign in front of the parking space and 2) almost crash into the other rental car parked on the other side.  After we scolded my dad for almost wrecking the rental car, he reminded us that he had bought full insurance.  I reminded him, however, that the car he almost crashed into wasn’t covered by his insurance and did he really want to deal with an insurance claim in Italy of all places?  My father is officially the worst driver in all of Italy.

The LGBT Get-Together

My dad was reviewing the daily newsletter for the cruise ship outlining the day’s activities. We were at sea so my dad wanted to make the most of the all the free activities. He spotted the LGBT Get-Together and only managed to see the letters L, B and T. He got excited and told me that there was a Lettuce, Bacon and Tomato sandwich get together at 2 pm.  I looked at the newsletter and told my dad that the acronym LGBT stands for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender.  I informed him that it was a mixer for the gay cruise passengers and that no, they would not be serving Bacon, Lettuce and Tomato sandwiches there.

Sherlock Holmes and other movies

In the detective story, The Hound of the Baskervilles, Sherlock Holmes inspects a visitor’s cane left behind at 221B Baker Street and deduces from his observations that the guest was a retired London doctor and that he had a spaniel.  Along those lines, when my parents returned to our room one evening, I managed to deduce from one sentence that 1) my parents watched the Sherlock Holmes movie on deck outside and that 2) my father fell asleep halfway through the movie.  How did I do this?  It didn’t take much.  This is what my father said to my mother: “What happened in the end, did they solve the case? What happened to the bad guy?”

I knew my father fell asleep during the movie because the day before, my dad went to watch another movie at the indoor theatre on the ship.  He fell asleep halfway through that movie and when he woke up, he was alone in an empty theatre.  

Lecturing me about French fries

After returning from a short trip to Monte Carlo, we had our lunch at the buffet on the ship.  I put a small serving of French fries on my plate.  The next evening, at dinner in the dining room, my dad lectures me about not eating too many French fries.  That would have been okay had it not been for a few peculiar things about his dinner in front of him:

– My dad had ordered an appetizer, a hot soup, a cold soup and a salad before even starting his main course.

– Because he couldn’t decide between two main courses, he decided to order TWO entrees for dinner.

– One my my dad’s entrees was mussels and came with a huge dinner plate of French fries.

– The other entree was a complete fish dinner.

So, my dad is in the process of completing a 6 course meal with a giant plate of fries in front of him, and he’s telling me not to eat too many French fries?  And on top of that, he ordered dessert and ate it all.  He said he only thought of my eating French fries when he saw his giant plate of fries.

Money is no object, as long as it’s free

One of the great things about going on a cruise is that all the food is virtually free.  We had the option of requesting a bowl of fruit delievered to our stateroom in the afternoon, so one day I filled out the tag and hug it on the door.  My dad freaked out at first, thinking I was ordering room service.  When he realized that the fruit bowl was complimentary, he said “Go ahead.  Money is no object, as long as it’s free.”

You don’t do any of the work

We had all watched the movie Julie & Julia on deck at the ship’s Movies Under the Stars feature.  It’s actually very nice.   They show a movie on the digital screen on deck, and you get to lay on the deck chairs outside and watch the movie by moonlight.  The ship provides cozy blankets and even hands out popcorn, cookies and milk during the show.  We all enjoyed Julie & Julia (my dad didn’t fall asleep during this one), but he did ask me who played Julia Child and how did Meryl Streep end up looking like her. (Makeup, costume design, wardrobe!)  Anyway, there was this one scene in the movie where Julia Child and Simone Beck confront their third collaborator on the cookbook and tell her she deserves only a small portion of the profits from their cookbook since she isn’t doing any of the work.  That scene turned out to be an appropriate metaphor for this entire trip.  During the trip, my mom and I were doing all the work.  My mom had packed and organized everything, and printed out all the important documents we needed for our trip.  I did all the talking in Italian, Spanish and French and I was the one researching every port of call to figure out how to get into town and what to see since my dad didn’t want to buy any of the ship’s excursions.  My dad, on the other hand, simply sat back and enjoyed the fruits of our labor.

The funniest man in Europe – Part I

When my father is out of his element, he pretty much acts like a 10 year old child with a credit card and a lot of cash.  Based on the following stories from our recent cruise to Western Europe, I think you’ll agree that he is the funniest man in Europe.

Day One – Arriving in Venice (the first fiasco)

Having been to Venice before, I did all the research and told my dad where to book our hotel.  I chose a small town just outside of Venice (literally a 5 minute train ride away) called Mestre.  I even found a hotel in Mestre that was across the street from the train station.  I told my dad not to rent a car.  My dad, however, insisted on making the arrangements and renting a car.  I figured it would be easier for him to learn from his mistakes than for me to argue with him.  I had forgotten that I was traveling with him and my mom, so I too would have to suffer through his mistakes.  At the end of the experience my dad said that he learned a lot and my response was “I learned that you should have taken my advice in the first place.”

The Rental Car

My dad, not being a very savvy traveler, forgot that European cars are way smaller than American ones.  When he opened up the trunk, there was barely enough room for one suitcase.  The other two suitcases and our carry-on luggage had to go into the back seat with my mom. 

Also, the car was a stick shift, which my dad claims he knows how to drive.  After seeing my dad drive this car, I began to realize that although he understands the concept of a manual transmission, he doesn’t really know what to do with that knowledge in a practical sense.  As a passenger, I could feel the car losing power and knew it was time to shift gears and wondered why my dad wasn’t shifting.  Perhaps my father was shifting the gear in his head while our car came to a complete stop when the engine turned off because my dad didn’t manually shift the gear in the world outside of his head.  Also, when we got to the roundabouts, my dad somehow thought it was a good idea to make a complete stop once inside the roundabout.  It would be an understatement to say that we were not popular in Italy when my dad was driving.

The Hotel / Apartment

Instead of taking my advice, my dad chose to book us a hotel apartment in a town about 15 km northeast of Venice.  After picking up the rental car at the airport, my dad asked me to navigate his way to our hotel in Quatro d’Altino.  None of his directions were helpful.  Completely jet lagged, we were lost on the roads of Italy as cars were tailgating us and dangerously passing us on one-way roads because my dad was driving like a blind grandmother according to Italian standards of driving.

When we finally found the hotel, there was no front desk and no way to get into the apartment.  We went to a nearby hotel where the male clerk said “I don’t work for that hotel.  What do you expect me to do?”  Thankfully, the female clerk took pity on us and called the contact number my dad had in his email.  After getting off the phone, she informed my dad that since we had booked an apartment, he needed to contact the apartment manager and arrange a meeting time.  The manager was on her way and could meet us in 45 minutes. 

We had just flown 15 hours to get to Venice.  We were exhausted.  My mom and I were incredibly pissed off.  It started to rain.  My dad waited outside of the apartment for the manager to show up.  Forty-five minutes later, she finally came and let us into our room. 

A nice meal at the local restaurant in town saved my father’s life.  I was so annoyed with our arrival day and all the fiascos we endured, I told my dad I would have killed him with my bare hands, if on top of everything, our dinner was bad.  Thankfully, the food was amazing and my father still lives.   

Shopping at the local market

My dad did make one trip to the nearby grocery store on his own to buy some things.  During this entire trip, I had to do all the talking for all of us in Italy, Spain and France.  This was his one interaction with the natives in Italy.  My dad was trying to buy shower gel but couldn’t read Italian.  He flagged down a stockboy and asked him if he spoke English.  The kid did not speak English, so my dad proceeded to mime taking a shower and lathering up with imaginary shower gel while making the sound of running water with his mouth.  I don’t know if the kid laughed or was too stunned, but it did turn out to be shower gel.

My dad also bought a kilo of oranges.  As he peeled them on our balcony, he said “These oranges are strange!”  The flesh was both red and orange inside and that’s when I told my dad he bought 2 1/2 pounds of blood oranges.

Waving to Italian Strangers

After spending a day in Venice, we piled back into our rental car which was parked at the train station and were headed home.  A tall man waved at my father as we were driving down the street.  My father waved back and then slammed on the brakes.  I scolded him and told him to keep driving.  I asked him why he was first, waving at a stranger and second, why he was stopping.  My father said that maybe the guy needed help.  I reminded my dad that 1) he doesn’t speak Italian and 2) in this country, my father can’t even help himself, so how can he assist someone else?  I also reminded him that if he were driving in Los Angeles, he would never wave at a stranger let alone stop the car.  I couldn’t wait to get back into our hotel apartment where, within the confines of our room, my father wouldn’t have any opportunity to invite Italian strangers into our lives.

My father’s response to all of this?  “I think that went well.  You know, I could live here for a month.”

Love is making fried chicken and biscuits for 30 people

My brother and his wife are expecting their first baby.  It will be my parents’ first grandchild.   With all the fuss over this baby, I’ve been telling everyone “The first baby is a miracle, the second one is just a baby.”   That said, my brother was the miracle and I was just a baby. 

 To celebrate the arrival of the little miracle, my mom and I threw my sister-in-law  a baby shower.  Against all better judgment, I offered to make my sister-in-law a Southern picnic themed menu including fried chicken and homemade biscuits.  I’m Asian.  We eat fried chicken out of a bucket.  I’ve never had homemade fried chicken in my life.  What in the world was I thinking?

Because I’m such a control freak, I tried out the fried chicken recipe I selected for the shower a week before.   Here are the recipes I used with my own minor adjustments.  Mind you, the biscuits need to be eaten the day they were baked.  They don’t carry over well the next day. 

Fried Chicken Recipe (Adapted from The Pioneer Woman Cookbook by Ree Drummond)

serves 4

cooking thermometer with an attachment piece
1 organic fryer chicken cut up into pieces (Whole Foods butchers can cut them up for you)
2 cups plus 1/8 cup buttermilk
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 1/2 Tablespoons Lawry’s seasoned salt
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon dried thyme
1 teaspoon paprika
1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/8 cup milk
peanut oil for frying

1. Cut your chicken up with a very sharp knife if you’ve bought whole chickens.  Here’s a handy video from Youtube if you’re new to this.  Also, you can have your butcher cut the chicken up for you.

2. In a large bowl marinate the chicken in 2 cups of buttermilk and refrigerate overnight.  I didn’t measure this out — I just made sure the chicken was covered in buttermilk.  When ready to fry, remove chicken from the refrigerator and let sit on the counter for 30 minutes to take the chill off.

3. Preheat your oven to 350F.  Stir together and mix the dry ingredients in a very large bowl.  In a small bowl, combine 1/8 cup buttermilk and 1/8 cup regular milk.  Pour the milk mixture into the flour and stir with a fork until little lumps appear throughout the dry mix.

4. Heat 2 inches of peanut oil in a dutch oven (attach cooking thermometer to the side) over medium heat to 365F.  Don’t overdo it with the oil — adding more oil lowers the overall temperature.

5. Work in batches of 4 pieces of chicken at a time.  Take a piece of chicken from the buttermilk marinade and thoroughly coat with the dry mix, taking care to press into the meat to adhere the coating.  This will give your chicken plenty of crispy coating.  If you just dip your chicken in the coating, the coating will fall off during the frying process, so really press that coating into your chicken.

6. When you have your 4 pieces of chicken coated with the dry mix, add to the oil and cover for 3-5 minutes, checking after 2 minutes that the chicken isn’t getting too brown.  You want your chicken to develop a nice medium golden color.  Turn your chicken pieces over and cook an additional 2-3 minutes.  Monitor your oil temperature to ensure that the chicken doesn’t burn. Repeat steps 5 and 6 with the remaining chicken pieces.

7. Place chicken pieces on a baking sheet and when done frying all the pieces, bake in the oven for 20 minutes or until chicken is cooked through.  To test for doneness, poke a fork into a thigh or breast and if the juices run clear, then the chicken is fully cooked.

I highly recommend making this buttermilk recipe along with the fried chicken since it will help you use up that 1/2 gallon of buttermilk.  These biscuits were very popular during the test run.

Buttermilk Biscuit Recipe (Adapted from The Pioneer Woman Cookbook by Ree Drummond)

Makes approximately 15 medium sized biscuits

4 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
2 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/3 cup chilled shortening (or 1/3 cup butter)
1/3 cup cold butter cut into pieces (5 1/3 teaspoons)
1 1/4 cups buttermilk
2 tablespoons melted butter

1. Preheat your oven to 450F.  In a large bowl, comine all the dry ingredients and mix well.  Add the chilled shortening and cold butter pieces and blend with a fork (or just use your hand).  The dry mix should be crumbly.

2. Pour in the buttermilk and mix gently with a fork (or your hand).  The dough will be a little sticky.  If dry or crumbly, add a little more buttermilk.

3. Lightly flour a clean surface.  Dust your rolling pin with flour.  Roll dough onto the surface and roll to 1/2 to 3/4 inch thickness.

4. Cut rounds with a biscuit cutter (I used the 3rd largest size) and place them on a baking sheet.

5. Bake for 15 minutes or until golden brown.  Brush tops with melted butter.

(Note: If you substitute butter for shortening, your biscuits will have a more butterly flavor and may not turn out as fluffy.)

Here are some pics of the baby shower food.  (My favorite part of any party!)  Photos were taken by my cousin’s lovely wife Andrea Takeoka (aka Mrs. T).  She has a fabulous camera and really knows how to use it!