Though there’s a decent amount of things to do in the area, we tend to turn into pool-dwelling, sun-worshipping (we do live in Oregon after all), trashy-book reading sloths. When we do bust out of our routine it’s usually to the mini-golf range where my mother is known to throw tantrums and my husband does creative score-keeping.

Yesterday I decided to get my mother and nine-year-old daughter out of the house. First stop, Cheekys, for a mind-blowingly good breakfast. I had not only the eggs benedict with poached eggs, braised arugula and bacon on a cheesy biscuit, but also a buttermilk corn blueberry pancake. This pancake was easily the most delicious pancake I’ve ever eaten. The corn part of the cake was kernels of corn in the batter, and it added an incredible texture. I’m right now thinking of getting up and heading there.

After waddling out of breakfast, we went searching for desert wildflowers. Specifically the hairy sand verbena. What better way to spend a morning than driving down dirt roads in the desert trying to spot a small, fuzzy plant. We understood from the local paper that this is primo wildflower season, and my mother was key to see all of the purpley widlflowers. Of course we found only yellow wildflowers that looked to be more in the weed category. This incredibly cool three-pronged yellow sunburst was discovered by my mother though, and I do think it was a find.

This inconvenience buys 26 more hours in NYC. On most days of the years, this would be more like a lucky treat, than a major inconvenience. But when it’s impossible to get a cab and walking to the subway is through more snow than the nordic combined track has in Vancouver, you start to think strategically.

The way my mind works is to think about proximities. Where do I want to spend a long, isolated winter day where the most that is asked of me is if I would like another beer? Easy answer. The ultra-cozy and ultra-satisfying Diner in Brooklyn. So I call a friend who lives across the street there and is conveniently out of town for work. I move into his killer apartment and start planning my lunch and dinner at Diner and be ultra thankful for the kindness of friends.

Nong serves one dish only, Khao Man Gai, not because she is lazy, rather because it kicks some serious butt. This Thai street food specialty is simple: a perfectly steamed chicken breast, tender and juicy, on a bed of scented rice served with a small cup of delicate broth and winter squash soup. Wrapped in white butcher paper with a side of soy, ginger and garlic sauce, your lunch arrives literally looking like a birthday present. And what a gift! The flavors are subtle yet punchy—the combination is perfectly balanced. If this is the food they eat in Thailand everyday, thank goodness it is a small world.

Yet recently, I was moved by a recipe to try it. It was a rainy Sunday, perfect for cooking, so I tackled a New York Times mag recipe, Moroccan Tomato Soup (http://tiny.cc/NZC7d). I was equipped with fresh garlic and tomatoes from my local farmer’s market and was ready to go.

It was good, very good. Needed more butter.