The Family Ascends -or- Attack of the Swedes

Please understand that my family is so close-knit it's almost annoying. Where one goes, the rest surely want to follow. If one member has a baby, the rest congeal there to help raise the thing. At least I can count on eager babysitters if Ben and I breed.

My mormor (Swedish word for mother's mother) was very upset that she didn't get to see me for Christmas when my mother did. She wrote to me several times expressing her regret and frustration for not being there, and insisted that she would soon have herself a little road trip from Los Angeles to Eugene, stopping in Sacramento to pick up my mother. I didn't entirely believe that she would pull it off, as our family is known for promising the world and then scrambling to deliver.

Mormor delivered, all right. She and my mother arrived early on the 26th of February, anxious to give my kitchen the Swedish Seal of Approval. It obviously did not, because they insisted on eating everywhere but at the apartment. Sure, I come from a long line of food tourists, but I was a little miffed. The food at Taste of India, Studio One, La Perla, and Sweet Life is all fantastic (and the Sweet Life patrons sang "Happy Birthday" to Grandma on the 27th), but I was eager to strut my culinary stuff in front of my teachers.

I can forgive our dining experience on the 28th, though, because it was my idea. We all got up early to drive to Portland for breakfast at Mothers Cafe (where better to go with your mother and mormor, right?) The ladies oohed and aahed over their food more than they had for all other Oregonian meals combined. If I can't win them with my own talents, I can win them with my good taste.
Ben was nice enough to take this picture of Mom, me, and Mormor from above the waist (as we had just eaten).

We talked about food during the entire drive back to Eugene. Eventually the talk veered toward my small and sad little cooking setup. I was starting to get annoyed until the ladies mused about what they could buy for me that would strengthen my kitchen.

Did someone say shopping?

We hit Target at God-forsaken-o'clock for an electric wok (essentially a second burner in the house) and an eight-quart Crock Pot. I can already tell that these will be powerful tools in my arsenal, and am musing about the time that I will save in cooking pasta with sauces, vegetables with fried chicken, etc ad nauseum ad infinitum.

Thank you, Mom and Mormor. I love you very, very, very much.