Jiggedy-jog

There's something to be said for simultaneous refreshment and frustration. After a fantastic 10 days visiting my parents (and an old friend from high school), I returned home, only to contract a nasty virus on the plane ride home. I limped my way through the short week at work and am sniffling, coughing, and sneezing my way through the weekend. Alaska, as always, was a blast. We climbed mountains.














We saw ice ...












 ... and water ...

 

 ... and quite a few animals.







 (That's a porcupine, by the way, but he was on the move.)






 We also ate a lot of good food, but I didn't take any pictures. Halibut tacos; pea purée (this time with mushrooms, as a topping for pasta); seared coho salmon; and the best fried chicken I've ever made, if I do say so myself. We introduced Mike to zucchini patties and my mom to Swiss chard; we ate spring rolls, crusty pizza, and other hometown favorites; and we made three quarts of ice cream with cherries and dark chocolate stracciatella for my dad. It was fun—in some ways, I could have stayed much longer. Given that they had record-breaking rainfall the two days after we left, though, I suppose it was time.




 Coming soon: red pepper panini, and the mushroom tart-that-almost-wasn't.