Chips Crazy

Lately I’ve become obsessed with chips. In the UK the word “chips” refers to what we know as “French fries” in America, and really, to the rest of the world. Have you ever read a menu in a restaurant in any other part of the world that was translated into English only to find the word "chips" instead of "fries". I don't think so.

Last week I was at the grocery store and it took me a solid ten minutes to figure out which bag of chips to buy. I stealthily walked up and down the frozen chips section, back and forth, until almost panicking.

Which chips should I buy for my family? Chunky chips, thick chips, crinkle chips, rustic chips with or without the skins, curly chips, spiced curly chips, chips cut into wedges (not sure of their technical name), smiley face chips, waffle chips and finally, plain ole, regular chips (yes, they do exist).

The one thing I’ll never understand is vinegar with chips. How in God’s name did that combination evolve? I can live with the Belgian way of eating mayo and chips (quite yummy in fact) but I don’t think I’ll ever acquire a taste for vinegar and chips. YUCK!

Chips can be served with anything in this country; fish, burgers, steak, or alone as a meal in itself.  My daughter was even served chips with her lasagne at school recently.

The chip market in the UK is worth £1.2 billion. That means that £1 out of every £100 is spent in a fish & chips shop.

There are even a websites dedicated to the fanatical love of chips. This country is chips crazy!!

Sunday Afternoon

It's starting to become a tradition in our new little family that on Sunday afternoons we venture out for a nice walk or hike. As baby has been getting bigger the hikes up undulating hills along the rugged coast have been getting less and less and have turned into easier strolls on flatter terrain.

What better way to spend an afternoon together, breathing fresh air and enjoying the beautiful scenery around us. 

Two weeks ago Emily and I did a 75 minute walk on muddy terrain that was anything but flat. Although Emily enjoyed herself, singing the entire way, I can't say the same for myself; it was one of the coldest, windiest days yet this winter and the hills hurt my back and ever-expanding ab muscles. 

With that in mind this morning I suggested a few flat, easy beach walks to my husband. Praa Sands and Godrevy Beach were not only non-challenging but the scenery was beautiful. 

"We should go someplace we haven't been. We can't keep going to the same places" he argued. Fair enough, I thought. 

I left him in charge of finding a nice, Sunday afternoon outing and took my daughter for a milkshake at her favorite place, along with my mother who is visiting.

After milkshake, we arrived at our destination; a quaint, tiny village set in a cove almost inaccessible by car. Cadgwith Cove. This cove was dotted with thatched roof houses, was equipped with one pub (called the Cadgwith Cove Pub, of course), a gig rowing club and one little artsy store that sold art stuff by local artists. 

Adorable. Hubby was right. We do need to explore the area more. 

As I stood in the "center" of the cove I  admired the scenery to the left and to the right.  It never occurred to me that the only way to go was up. And when I say up I mean UP, about two hundred feet UP in either direction.

Five minutes into our ascent I was not a happy camper. Is he kidding me? Not only is the upward ascent steep, i had my wellies on (short for "Wellington boots") and my sixty-something-year old mother in tow.

Now, I consider myself a fit person; I still try to workout 3-4 times per week even though i'm 5.5 months preggers. Yesterday I beat both my in-laws AND my mother to the top of a steep hill that was only accessible via stairs. (ok it's true that all three of their combined ages nears two hundred but i'm pregnant. Do you know how much extra weight i'm carrying?)

Anywho, now 6 minutes into the walk and the love of my life has to physically help me and grandma up some stairs. 

Now I'm pissed. "How could he do this to me?" I thought to myself as I pictured the four of us strolling on a FLAT, sandy beach, not feeling like a heart attack is minutes away.

Upon reaching the top and looking down at the stunning view of the waves crashing into the rocks my anger subsided. 

Ok, I guess it was kind of worth it. 

On the way down I took another look at the adorable village in the cove with the thatched roof homes that I had never seen. Yes, I am KIND of glad I saw something new.

Afterwards, per my husbands  idea, we headed to a chocolate factory, bought some delicious chocolate and than went to an art gallery where the artist/owner demonstrated how he created art on special oriental paper.

As we chomped our chocolate and admired the art I thought to myself it was worth venturing out and seeing something new, even if it meant going out of my comfort zone.

Thanks Hon. :)