How to Party With an Infant Read Free

friends, and motherhood! From appetizers to desserts to everything in between, any type of cook has an opportunity to win. All San Francisco Mother’s Club parents are eligible to enter. You’ll need to fill out this questionnaire—be thorough!—and provide three recipe examples. We will then narrow down the competition and invite our five unique finalists to cook for some Very Important Moms, our fellow members Rachel Kawashima of Chopsticks Publishing Group and Lyndsey Price, head chef at Boulevard. Ever wanted to publish your own cookbook? Who knows? This could be your big break, Yummy Mummy!
We are looking for originality, variety, thoroughness, clarity, overall appeal of the recipes. The winner will win a culinary trip for two to Napa, an oven from Sears, and perhaps a book contract! * Good luck, ladies! Bon appétit!
* A book contract is at the sole discretion of an outside party and not an official prize of this contest.
    SFMC Questionnaire
The purpose of this questionnaire is to let the Steering Committee know more about you, your cookbook, and your writing style, so please be as detailed as possible. Through your questionnaire we are hoping to “meet” you and your world. Since the book should include vignettes on motherhood and your playgroup friendships, we will be looking for an original and clear voice. Have fun with it! Whet our palates!
Name: Mele Bart
Three possible titles for your cookbook:
Bread to My Butter
Hungry Woman
How to Party with an Infant
What are your interests, avocations, and hobbies?
    I love to read and write and take long walks while I listen to music and rehearse answers to a pretend Barbara Walters interview. I should say, I used to like writing, reading, and taking long walks. I used to like my looks, too, keeping them up. Now I rarely look in the mirror.
    I used to like going to movies, having sex, shopping, but now, as you know, I have a baby. My current interests are crosswords, heavy snacking in front of the television after Ellie goes to bed, thinking of possible Saturday Night Live skits, hunting for the best soda fridges in town, strolling in grocery stores, ogling food at the Embarcadero Farmers’ Market, and making fusion gum (this is where I put a piece of fruit-flavored gum in my mouth, then about a minute later, a mint-flavored gum). I am also interested in television and not in an ironic way. Certain shows on Bravo make me say out loud: “My God, I love America.”
    Bobby, my ex-boyfriend and father of my child, would only tolerate a reality show about motorcycle mechanics, couldn’t stand when I watched entertainment news.
    “They just spent fifteen minutes telling us some actress put a quarter into a parking meter,” he’d say.
    He liked looking at motorcycles and pizza ovens on Craigslist. He’d browse for hours, perhaps shopping for his other life out of the city that I didn’t know about: things for his garage, his house, andalas, for his fiancée, a cheese maker in Petaluma. When he first told me about her I envisioned a country woman milking goats, her jeans pulled up to her nipples, but she isn’t like that at all. She’s finely assembled, chic and classic. She has a perfect ponytail, big teeth, and high cheekbones—that alien look of models. She knows how to sail, make cheese, ride horses, and she’s marrying the man I thought I’d be with for the rest of my life.
What do you do for a living?
    Right now not much. My mom and stepdad help me out. They don’t think people should have babies out of wedlock, yet are total pro-lifers, so it’s a mixed message. They’re also not “kid people,” something I already knew, having been their kid. They live in Hawaii, a place I jammed out of as soon as I got my diploma. I miss the house, of course, my bedroom and its sliding glass door with wood trim. Every morning I would wake to the sound of chattering birds and the looming greenness of the mountain range upon which battles between tribes were fought. On