Kiss me, I'm Amish

Last weekend, I went to Constantine, MI to visit my friends Melodi and Mika and their two little half-French petits monstres. We drank copious amounts of tea, as we do whenever we are together, and we talked about our lovely British friend Miriam and her upcoming wedding. We debated whether or not we will wear fascinators (well, I don't think Mika is going to wear one.) I came down on the side of yes, definitely, and I will pretend all day that I am Princess Kate.

I pretend that most days.

Melodi's beautiful cousin was celebrating her 21st birthday and we joined her for dinner at Essenhaus, an Amish restaurant and enormous banquet hall in Indiana. Our dinner was served family style (which, in case you're not sure, means that big portions of food are brought out in serving dishes and everyone helps themselves. You know, how you would eat dinner at your parent's house, unless your parents are super fancy and plate your dinner in the kitchen. I know my family doesn't roll like that, and when my brother was bad, my dad would make him eat in the bathroom.)

I ate everything. Mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, stuffing, buttered noodles- they all played a supporting roll to the friend chicken. Good GOD this chicken. It's been a good long while since I had properly fried chicken, and I made up for it by eating 87 pieces of this.

At each person's place there was a little slip of paper for you to order a slice of pie. Essenhaus offers a bevy of pies, and everyone picks what they want and turns their slip into the waitress (who, by the way, was wonderful. Thanks for putting up with the kids and with this animal who couldn't stop eating chicken. Hi!)

Melodi read my mind and pointed out that, even though the 1 and 2-year-old boys would be content with a mouthful of whipped cream, they were eligible for their own piece of pie. I jumped right on that and ordered both a slice of butterscotch pie and a slice of chocolate peanut butter. Mel, as soon as Jules is old enough to realize what I did, I will buy him his own pie all for himself.

This weirdo loved his pie too-

I dwindled in the bakery after abusing myself with friend chicken and picked up some of my favorite Amish popcorn and honey. According to my cousin Katie's comment on my Instagrammed photo from dinner, people from Kalamazoo know all about Essenhaus. Funny, because I've been going to Kalamazoo several times a year for my entire life and nobody has even mentioned a wonderful Amish restaurant to me before. Ya filthy animals.