Staying in the water as much as possible has been our mission throughout this heat wave, so on Sunday we were grateful to be invited to hang out with friends at their place on nearby Putah Creek.
, and the Griffin Survivor Waterproof and Catalyst for iPhone 5—which, update: I do not recommend
. We’d had the DriSuit Endurance for the iPhone 4 and were really happy with it. I’d place a good waterproof case up there at the top of my list of travel accessories. Nevermind that it’s fun to take pictures while playing in a splashpad or snorkeling in the sea (even if no one else wants to look at your poorly lit, colorless photos of fish), it’s perfect for taking photos on a sandy beach, tossing in a bag with your wet towel, or adding a sense of security on a bumpy boat ride (like the wet one we took to the Gili Islands this past summer). Or taking photos of your shoes underwater, as the case may be.
The DriSuit has a easy locking system and a flexible screen that lets you easily use your touch screen underwater—which is really key for focusing. The Griffin is more attractive and seems less cloudy, but the screen is harder to use. The DriSuit also has a deeper maximum depth. However, once Aron put his phone into the DriSuit, he couldn’t get it back out. The film he has on his screen to protect it from scratches (I have the same) stuck to the case and it was impossible to remove. We literally had to cut it open, destroying it in the process. Major bummer!
Aron, however, got more of a testing opportunity with the Griffin than he’d bargained for when he… gulp… dropped his phone in the creek. Most of the water was clear to the bottom and it would have been easy to find. He happened to drop it by the banks, in a cluster of reeds.
Luckily, after some tense searching, he felt it with his foot and recovered it. It still worked! Huge success. However, he discovered that there was some moisture in the case, which led him to conclude that he wouldn’t choose the Griffin for snorkeling, only for splashing on the beach or on a boat ride. (Update: it worked at first. But either after that afternoon or after the following time we used it by the river, Aron’s phone stopped working and we discovered that it had completely corroded inside. Ugh. Don’t buy this one!)
Our final verdict was, if you don’t have a film on your screen that will hinder slipping your phone in and out of the case, to go for the DriSuit. But the real lesson learned was: all waterproof cases are only as good as their wrist strap. Our next step is to either try the Lifeproof case or to buy a separate, cheap underwater camera (though I’d be sad not to have a solution for the iPhone).
Have you used another waterproof case? What are its pros and cons? I think they’re such a great summertime accessory!
We had a lot of eating to do when we were briefly in New York last month. I had a list of favorite dishes on hand, just in case we were ever blocked for ideas. And yet, New York has that way about it; it tempts you to try new places constantly, as you turn the corner and some amazing looking new restaurant is suddenly in your path. But I had some priorities: split a Shake Shack burger, eat a Peels muffin (and try to figure out the buckwheat flour ratio), devour a Neapolitan pizza, bring home some house-made hunter’s sausage called Cacciatorino from Il Buco, and share a meal at Diner. We accomplished all that and more.
But we both realized that what we’d been missing most was the ethnic food: South Indian street food like Bel Puri, yes, but more so those creative takes on Asian cuisine, like what one finds at Momofuku and Fatty Crab. In fact, of all the things I ate over a few days in the city, my favorite of all was that (ever) amazing pickled watermelon and crispy pork belly salad that Zak Pelaccio has rightfully made a staple at Fatty Crab.
He says (in this New York Times story that does a better job of describing the dish than I could) that pork belly is so simple, so pleasing, that all a chef really has to do is to show up. But I just found the recipe on Find. Eat. Drink. and there’s oh so much more to it.
Frankly, I’d love it even without the pork belly. The cool watermelon, pickled with vinegar and lime and ginger and chilies, is smeared with spicy ginger paste and topped with the most aromatic greens. It’s slight on those greens, but there’s Thai Basil, Vietnamese Mint, coriander, and sesame; I think it’s an incredibly delicious combination. In fact, it was so irresistible that after first having it back in 2005 (having seen the chef introduce Malaysian street food to Martha Stewart on her show), I made a special trip for lunch there during 16-hour stop in the city for a job interview a few years later.
Really, I’m smitten with plenty of things on the menu, but Aron and I repeatedly came back for the pork buns, that salad, and whatever new cocktails the bartender was mixing up. It really is one to try, if you haven’t yet had the pleasure.
P.S. I was thinking that it’s probably firefly season there. Are you seeing them in your neck of the woods?
True story: there are no highchairs in Paris. Or, at least, we couldn’t find them.
Hudson is a very good toddler in restaurants and, if we’re lucky, will even sit still through some pretty long meals! But that’s with a high chair. Without, it’s more “up-down, up-down.” (Literally. He narrates.) So after a few days of doing without, I was thrilled when I remembered that once I saw a post on Momfilter about a very elegant high chair in this belle-epoque tea salon, Angelina. Or so I thought. Turns out that the chair in question was at Laudurée and that my memory had deceived me. Aron and I had been to Angelina years ago and perhaps I subconsciously wanted to return.
In any case, I was more than a little disappointed when I asked the maitre’d for a high chair and was met with the same response as elsewhere: “Non,” with a wee bit of “but of course we don’t” expression. In fact, we never saw any French children of Hudson’s age in restaurants. None. Ever. So of course there are no high chairs.
Angelina is a beautiful tea salon that opened near the Louvre at the turn of the last century, and that serves delicious albeit pricey pastries and the most decadent, rightfully renowned, sipping chocolate. It’s popular with tourists, which always increases the chances of other small children, but no luck this morning. Just the sounds of clinking china and muffled conversation. But despite the slightly hushed atmosphere that had me a little nervous at first, I have to admit that taking hopping, bouncing, wiggling Hudson to this slightly fussy tea salon was a highlight of the trip. It was one of those moments when I really appreciated his ability to just not care.
First off, he ran straight to the pastry case in front and started pointing: “balls, balls, balls!” He had spotted the religeuse, a sort of eclair-like pastry with two stacked balls. “Balls, mommy!”
What can you do, but order the balls?
When they arrived, he didn’t know what to do. He poked at the top, licked the raspberry off of his finger, and then just dove in! We quickly ushered a fork into his hands, laughing at the surprise of his reaction.
Aron ordered the Saint-Honoré, a combination of puff and caramelized choux pastry with vanilla pastry cream and chantilly whipped cream. Hudson got one bite of that whipped cream and immediately turned to my (nearer) Mont Blanc—where chestnut vermicelli conceals a filling of meringue and that same chantilly.
The whipped cream was clearly a big hit.
We couldn’t help ourselves. We ordered some of the hot chocolate, too. Maybe I just wanted to give him more whipped cream so that he’d stop stealing mine. But I also thought it would be fun to see how much he’d love the hot chocolate.
I wish I had a photo of his face. You’d think we’d given him a bowl of sour lemon. I didn’t think it was so bitter, but his expression told another story.
Finally, to cap off a truly entertaining visit, Aron took Hudson with him to the restrooms upstairs. When they returned, Hudson ran toward me shouting “Daddy pee-pee! Daddy pee-pee!”
It was a wonderful, memorable morning! It’s such a beautiful space and I definitely wouldn’t let the lack of high chairs or the formality scare you off from visiting with a toddler. If anything should have scared us off, it should have been the cost. Mon dieu!
