Dadalogue deployed: Eating with the Afghans

Greetings from the other side of the world.

It’s been a good week, although the days seem to run together. I though Friday was Sunday, Saturday was Tuesday. What day it is doesn’t really matter though. Except Sundays. I get to sleep in a little bit and go to work a little later. Then there’s church in the evening. It’s Palm Sunday today, the start of the most holy week, so I’ll be extra sure not to miss it.

On this Palm Sunday I am thinking about my family too. Every year, on Palm Sunday or Easter, for the past 7 years or so, my grandmother has treated our family to a large lunch at this restaurant and Inn near my hometown.

To say the meals are delectable is an understatement. They are simply the best meals I’ve ever eaten. 

This year, I’ll miss the warm popovers with lemon curd and the special Sunday menu the chef 

prepares. Last year it was ostrich tenderloin for me. Other years I’ve had bison steak, duck, and lamb. The lobster bisque has chunks of meat floating in it. I’ve never forgotten a meal we’ve eaten there.

The building is an old historic landmark with fireplaces in every room. When we start going, it was only a handful of us: my grandmother (Mom Mom), my parents, sister, my aunt and uncle, and my great uncle. I’ve brought a friend before, a fellow Marine, and my sister brought a couple people from time to time too. But, the immediate family has certainly grown over the last several years.

My sister got married. Then the next year, her first born was there. Then I got married. Then we had a child. Then my sister had another baby. This year will be our 9-month-old Timothy’s first time. Next year, my sister will have another one. We’ve grown so much as a family, they have to give us a whole room to ourselves. It’s probably better that way too. We like to laugh.

I’ll miss it this year. It may be “Southern cooking day” at the chow hall today – which means some kind of boiled meat slathered in BBQ sauce – but it doesn’t hold a candle to the pheasant my wife says she’s going to have this year. Ohh, and crème brule. They have the best crème brule.

Of course, the time there isn’t just about amazing food. It’s about amazing time with family. The conversations and the time spent with them are just as memorable. I miss them all dearly, and my thoughts and prayers are with them constantly.

But, since this post has become more of a foodie blog today, I’m going to continue that trend to recap the highlight of my week: lunch with Afghans.

Every week at this forward operating base I’m now at we get to break bread with our Afghan National Army counterparts. They host the meal. And it’s authentic.

We walked over their compound where they escorted us into their chow hall – three long rows of benches with a huge spread on the tables. Each place setting had real silverware and plates (the chow hall is paper and plasticware). In the middle were silver platters piled high with spiced rice and baskets of fried potatoes. Little bowls of what I’m almost positive was goat meat were laid out for each person. And there was orange soda. Afghans seem to love their soft drinks.

That lunch was the best food I’ve eaten since getting here.

The conversation with our Afghans was a little difficult, having to speak through interpreters, but the non-verbal communication said it all. They love having us here. They are truly grateful for the attention and help we’re giving them. Yes, our cultures are completely different. Yes, we do things differently. But, there is a mutual connection of making this place better than it was 10 years ago.

The Afghans who serve are extremely patriotic and proud of what they do. They see their service, just like us who wear a U.S. uniform, as a privilege and an honor. Afghans are not bad people. The insurgents who fight us and torment the citizens of this country are. Most Afghans don’t want them around either. And many are proving that by wearing the military uniform of their country.

I’ve known this for a while. I don’t just read the news reports from mainstream media. I seek out the other news, and I see the other side of the story firsthand.

Don’t believe me? Come to Afghanistan and see for yourself.

And have a meal with them.

Whether it’s with family or with complete strangers – nothing unifies a group of people and creates wonderful memories quite like sitting down at a table full of food and eating together.

Dadalogue on the Road: Day 4

Two impressions about Arkansas:

It has nice roads and a weird fashion sense.

The highways were the quietest and smoothest I've seen on this trip. Road quality, especially after logging 2,000 miles in four days, is a big deal to me.

As for the fashion, I've never been somewhere where hunting camouflage is worn as a normal, daily article of clothing. Uggs and Realtree don't mix. Unless you live in Arkansas. I saw a lot of people in camouflage and not a lot of gun racks. Make fun of my polo shirts all you want, but suiting up like your going duck hunting and going anywhere else instead is just plain weird.

The kids did great today. After yesterday's outbursts and lack of sleep they were too tired to be bad. This worked out for me; I got a good hundred and fifty miles in before they started to stir. But even when both kids were awake, they seemed happy. It could be that they've resigned themselves to the reality that they're not going anywhere. The minivan is now their home, so they believe.

Actually, that's probably not too far from the truth. Besides overnights, we've been living out of it. It's our kitchen, living room, and changing station on wheels. Today certainly proved that to me. Like when I took Grace out of her car seat and noticed that she had amassed more varieties of food than a Chinese lunch buffet. I pulled out Cheerios, veggie sticks, mashed fruits, a tator tot, and the remnants of one of those veggie pouches just to name a few. We've eaten a lot of meals on the road.

With all this eating means our fair share of diaper changes. And when one doesn't exist at one of our rest stops, the driver seat has doubled as the changing station. Today I had the honor and privilege of cleaning up one of Timothy's trademark diaper blowouts. This one required about 50 wipes and a full wardrobe change. That's difficult enough as is, but as I'm trying to undress and clean him he's grabbing a hold of the steering wheel and pulling himself up. Poop was everywhere and all he wanted to do was drive.

I finally did get him cleaned up and was finishing putting him in new clothes when it suddenly started to rain. Hard. I'm standing outside the van, he's still squirming on the seat. I quickly jumped in, butt towards the steering wheel, hunched over him trying to get his onesie on. This didn't work out too well for me. But instead of helping, the Wife was laughing hysterically.

Yeah. Real funny.

That was the highlight of her day.

My highlight was our lunch stop in Memphis. We stopped at Tom's BBQ which was featured on Food Network a couple of times. I was really impressed. The food was amazing, as I expected it to be, but the service was what made it really special to me. 

When we showed up, Tom was coming in too. He held the door and thanked us for coming as we struggled with the kids and their dining accessories (portable highchair, diaper bag, Grace's blanket). Then, as I was paying, the cashier asked if this was our first time at Tom's. It was, so she told us she'd send out a special treat to our table. The special treat was a good-sized portion of their dry-rubbed ribs. Then, as we were leaving, we saw Tom outside again. I rolled down my window to tell him how much we enjoyed the meal. He asked us where we were headed, and told us the best way to get back to I-40. But the topper was that he then walked out into the middle of the very busy street to block oncoming traffic so we could get to the other side of the road. A pit master, gentleman, and traffic cop. I can't wait to go back.

The rest of the drive was uneventful, except for more rain. We're in Nashville now, which I'm pretty excited about. Tomorrow's drive is pretty short, so maybe we'll have a chance to do a little exploring. Or maybe I'll just sleep in.

Cincinnati bound ...

Dadalogue on the Road: Day 3

The kids finally snapped. I was hoping we'd have perfect little angels the whole way, but keeping them cooped up in car seats has finally done them in. Grace showed her ugly side - throwing a tantrum in McDonald's for lunch and a mini tantrum at the restaurant we ate at for dinner. We were that family today.

I know it's probably not as big of a deal as I'm making it out to be. As my level-headed wife points out, we'll never see those people again, our kids are weary from traveling, and they were nice enough to take a credit card to pay for all the damages.

Okay, I'm kidding on that last part. There were no damages, except for maybe my pride. I just want my two-year-old to instinctively understand how to behave in public. Pshaw to actually teaching her these things. My lack of tolerance for her behavior probably mostly stems from my exhaustion of being on the road and not so much on her actual actions.

In the minivan, things weren't much better than they were in the restaurants. Sure, the two little ones were restrained, but their crying in stereo was the perfect accompaniment to the rain from downpour I drove through the entire day. All 560 miles was done with my wipers whipping. The Wife, amazing as usual, sat in the cramped micro-seat between the two little ones - holding a teether for Timothy with one hand while reading a book to Grace with the other. She handled the situation and got me a few hours of quiet so I could concentrate on the road.

The only bright side of the day was that at least the rain wasn't the blizzard I was trying to out-drive. We left at 6:30 this morning so we wouldn't get stuck in this. We got several calls of concern wondering if we were some of those stranded motorists.

No. We're fine. I don't even think I could fathom what being stranded with Jekyll and Hyde would be like.

But, after a long day on the road, we're safely in a comfortable hotel room. Timothy is finally sleeping. He seems to be recovering well from the day's travels. For Grace, however, the night is young. She's free from her restraints. It may be 10 o'clock, but like a college freshman, that's when the night begins. It's time to party!

Pray for patience for the parents.

Dinner out with kids

To me, going out to eat is one of life's greatest pleasures. Few things beat a delicious meal, good drinks, and spending time with people you love. I even like the build up of picking the place to go - reading the reviews, hemming and hawing over which cuisine to settle on, and thinking about the meal I'm going to have on the drive over.

Yes, my idea of entertainment is a good meal out.

Enter kids.

They change everything. Not always in a bad way, mind you, but since we've had children, going out to eat is a different experience and a different form of entertainment (both for us and the people around us).

Take last night for example. My grandmother has been in town for a few days and wanted to treat us to a meal. We chose P.F. Chang's because it's delicious yet kid friendly. As soon as we sit down, Grace attacks the kiddie menu with a crayon. Two seconds later, she's done and ready to get up. Of course we haven't even see our server yet, so this child is gonna hafta wait a couple hours.

My job as the one sitting next to her was to distract her by any means possible. This was a challenge as I was rifling through the diaper bag looking for something to give her to play with. She was getting impatient and starting to arch her back in her high chair. She threw the crayon and menu on the floor. I now feel people's eyes on our table.

Then I discovered that P.F. Chang's has chopsticks in their silverware roll-up they give you! Drum sticks! Perfect. Child one satisfied.

Timothy, however, was not happy. He was fussing because he was hungry. However he didn't want the bottle that we brought. In his mind he was thinking that Mommy was right there, so why should he have to settle for a bottle? He could get the milk right from its source. Apparently our four-month-old has a discerning palate already. This will be good when people try to tell him Outback has good steaks but not now. Not when we're trying to pass once-frozen milk off as fresh.

He also needed a diaper change. I took him since The Wife was in the corner of the booth. The baby pass over the top of the table (and the candle flame!) was successful. Baby and diaper changing accessories in hand, I made my way through the tables towards the restrooms. As a father, this walk to the bathroom is always done with a reoccurring thought: "Will this restaurant have a baby changing station in the men's room?"

I then have flashbacks to the time that Grace was two months old and had to change her in the four-inch space between two sinks. That was the time I discovered I could change a diaper with one hand as I supported her head with the other. That was also the only time I've ever come close to accidentally dropping one of our kids.

I am happy to report P.F. Chang's is one of the few restaurants that actually recognizes fathers as having an active roll in child raising. They have a changing station, and it works. It's not marked up with graffiti. The hinges work. Someone has cleaned it recently. Timothy and I are both happy - for a few minutes any way.

Back at the table, he got fussy again. He still wouldn't take the bottle from The Wife. Another baby pass over the table (there were about 15 this night) and back to me to try. He wouldn't take the bottle from me either, but I managed to get him to stop crying.

It's amazing what a father will do in public to keep their children happy. It's also amazing that I don't really care what people think either. Rousing renditions of the ABCs and "Pat-a-cake" with both kids drew laughter and smiles from them and certainly more than a few looks from people who would rather talk politics and sports rather than listen to my off-key singing. I should also mention I am a pro at the "bounce and shush." I spent a good portion of the meal standing and bouncing, rocking and swaying Timothy while humming and shushing in his ear to keep him quiet.

I should mention a couple things in closing. First, both of our kids are generally wonderful, obedient, and calm at restaurants. I know this because other diners have come up to tell us this. Secondly, Grace wound up settling in to her high chair captivity and even enjoyed her low mein noodles (she actually used chopsticks too!).

And it's watching moments like that that still make going out to eat one of life's great pleasures for me.