Archive for the ‘food stuffs’ Tag
July 19 2011
Let’s talk about vegetables. Do you want to talk about vegetables?
Yeah, let’s talk about vegetables. You know, those vitamin-packed morsels that send children screeching in horror just at the sight. They may look innocent, some even quite delicious under certain preparations, but to a kid they are evil. Especially those with leafy tops, they’re just sinister. I mean, do your kids eat vegetables? Willingly? Because mine don’t. Mine would rather ingest cardboard.
“What are these?”, Jedi wondered, poking at the pods as if he expected them to scurry across the table while his nose scrunched.
“It’s sugar snap peas. You’ve had them before, you like them.”, I may have lied.
He didn’t like them.
You can’t blame me for trying to include a healthy option with our meal when possible. It makes me feel better for all the nights we have pizza. Doing so, however, opens the dinner discussion to bargaining and serious contract negotiations.
“I’ll tell you what, just eat 5 peas and you can be done”, I compromised.
“But that’s too many”, he whined.
Exhausted already, I reasoned, “Fine, eat 3 without any more complaint or it goes back up to 5″. It takes 30 minutes, they’re cold and he’s the only one left at the table, but he finally swallows each, like glass going down. “I think I’m going to be sick”, he states dramatically afterward.
So we can talk about vegetables. I would love to talk about vegetables. What are your favorite kinds of vegetables? You know what my favorite kind are? Any kind my kids will eat without acting like it’s torture.
April 05 2011
It’s the age old question, asked every night. Regular answers consist of normal child fare: cheeseburgers, pizza, chicken quesadillas. Whether I take their suggestion to heart is another matter. Even if I do, I try to include a vegetable somewhere amongst the million calories. Still, I continue to inquire.
“What do you want for dinner?”
I’m not the best cook. In fact, the other day I had to ask on twitter if I could make the same oven fries with vegetable oil as I was all out of olive. Because oil is oil, right? However, there are a few items on our menu that are raved over. An example of which is ravioli. A bag of frozen meat-filled ravioli, a bottle of store-bought alfredo sauce. I could never be a food blogger for many reasons, but mostly because that’s about as homemade as I get. It is a reasonably light choice all my kids can agree on, though. Including Abby, who still prefers foods on the softer side.
“Would you like me to make ravioli?”
So it may be the age old question that is asked every night, but my daughter’s toddler tongue helps mix it up when ravioli’s involved.
“Olie-olie-olie!”, she calls for in agreement.
I have to admit, it’s become one of my favorites, too. Not because I enjoy the dish that much, but I can’t get enough of her translation. I would fix “olie-olie-olie” every night of the week if I could, as long as Abby never changes the way she speaks. That’s completely doable, right? More so than my eldest excited for asparagus, anyway.
January 04 2011
Saying that I don’t like spicy food is probably an understatement. If you’ve ever been to dinner with me, you’ll come to know that bland is better as far as I’m concerned. As such, it doesn’t take much heat for it to quickly become too much. I don’t even use cracked black pepper as it can be too hot for my palette. My throat feels like it’s on fire and I don’t find hosing myself down any way to enjoy a meal.
Winter time means chili time, however. My husband is the designated chili maker in our house, everything made from scratch. He knows my meager tastes and tries his best to alter the recipe accordingly, though I know it’s not a science. A pepper or two may find its way in sometimes. Usually, it works out well enough. This last time, however, had so much kick I think my ass is bruised.
I somehow found it in me to finish my bowl, though, with a lot of help from multiple glasses of milk. Even doused in cheese and crackers, my boys took a few bites and pushed the rest away. Not a surprise, really. My daughter, however, happily devoured every bite.
What the rest of us couldn’t finish, she inhaled.
And when the bowl was licked clean, she even wanted more.
I may not like the heat, but it doesn’t seem to be a problem for my 2 year old. Leave it to my daughter to not only show up her mom, but the boys, too. Though I have to say, I think it takes bigger cajones to tackle her diaper after. Now that was terrifying. Word to the wise, no more chili until she’s potty-trained.
August 10 2010
We have new next door neighbors. This is a good thing, since the people who lived in that house previously broke our car’s rear window last year. It was an accident, sure, but feelings soured very quickly, especially after they refused to pay for it.
The new neighbors are older. I’ve seen the man sitting outside a few times and we’ve waved. I’m not the most social, so this is my curmudgeonly attempt at being friendly.
Over the weekend, he witnessed my parents come and go. On one of those occasions, he stopped my dad before he could shuffle his way inside. He asked how many kids I had then retreated briefly. A few seconds later, he returned bearing gifts.
Two peaches.
“For the kids”, he offered kindly.
Which is all very nice. I’m not against fruit. I wish my kids ate fruit. Obviously, though, he doesn’t know my kids.
I’ve had to place these peaches on top of the refrigerator, out of their immediate reach. If I hadn’t, I’m certain I’d be cleaning peach mush out of my carpet courtesy of Buzz. They think they’re toys. Round, fuzzy toys. Fuzzy balls, if you want to go there. Jedi just wanted to walk around with one in his hand. I told him if he touched the peach, he had to eat it. He promptly backed away and hasn’t so much as looked at it since.
You’ve succeeded in a positive first impression, Mr. Neighbor Guy. But if you really want to win (me and) my kids over, you need to come bearing chocolate next time.
April 20 2010
A few days ago, after J got home from work, he and Jedi helped make pizza from scratch. While I browned the meat, their job was to spread out the dough and distribute pepperoni and pile on cheese and all desired toppings. Jedi sat at the kitchen table and probably made more of a mess than anything. But it was his mess for his pizza.
The benefits to getting kids to help in the kitchen are obvious. It can be a great way to introduce new ingredients, since giving children ownership of their meal makes them more willing to try whatever it is they’ve created. It also gives them a tangible reason to be proud of themselves and stretch their imagination while also relaying into a lovely bonding moment. But really, what’s more fun than playing with your food?
Of course, we made pizza this time. The kid would have probably loved it regardless, as long as it didn’t have peppers or anchovies. But it was his, made with the help of his two little hands, and he couldn’t stop raving over it.
“This is better than the pizza we buy!”, he exclaimed with sauce smeared across his cheek.
It was so good he ate two large slices. Then, he had more for lunch the following day. And possibly the day after. When my parents came by the next afternoon, Jedi wasted no time in telling them about his pizza making adventure and how delicious it was.
Apparently, the boy makes a really good pizza. Though maybe next time I should let him help arrange a salad.
