Recipe for Disaster

At 6:42 this evening, four parents piled their five children, ages four to eleven, into two cars and headed out for dinner. One of the children was celebrating her 10th birthday and had requested a trendy, fancy-ish restaurant in Little Saigon called the Tamarind Tree. All five children had spent the afternoon at a neighbor's 3rd birthday party (a rained-out Seward Park picnic that wound up in her living room, attended by what seemed like hundreds of babies but was probably only twenty) and were pretty well filled up with pizza and chocolate cake. All four adults were hungry, and at least one was on the crabby side.

This motley crew spent ten minutes in the restaurant foyer putting their sweatshirts over each other's heads and talking loudly about farting. They were then ushered to a long skinny table in the outside seating area -- a cozy patio enclosed by plexiglass and tarps, heated by half a dozen open braziers, and populated by several couples on big dates. The youngest child announced that he was cold. "Sit by the fire, then!" said the four parents, who proceeded to park themselves at the other end of the table and engross themselves in the unfamiliar menu. The children bounced around in their rickety wicker chairs, began a round of arm-wrestling, then switched to bickering over the one comic book someone had thought to bring. It was now well after seven. The waitress had vanished without a trace.

When she returned, someone thought to order a round of pomegranate martinis. Unfortunately, fiscal limitations did not permit the ordering of a round of pomegranate martinis for everyone seated within shouting distance of the children (who weren't exactly shouting, yet), though the idea was given serious consideration.

Soon a plate of trendy-looking spring rolls appeared, followed by a giant bowl of fancy-ish pho; both were attacked with gusto by the younger set. At one point the seven-year-old informed his mother that the four-year-old had noodles on his head, making only a cursory effort to conceal the fact that he himself had put them there. Her calm reply ("Oh.") was cited as proof that the pomegranate martinis were working. The four parents devoured vegetable pancakes, pickled greens, barbecued beef with rice, and more. The birthday girl glowed.

By the time the spring rolls & pho were gone and the arm-wrestling was starting up again, the check had arrived. The children were herded out the door, piled into the Volvo, and spirited away to a nearby Baskin & Robbins, where it was concluded that the whole thing went way better than anyone could possibly have predicted.


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