Mothership Meals and Satellite Saucers: The Sound of Falling Axes... and Cauliflower

Friday, April 10, 2009

The Sound of Falling Axes... and Cauliflower

We had one of those scary meetings at my job a few weeks ago, in which it turned out after a lot of nailbiting and queasy suspension that nothing was going to happen, everyone still had their jobs, but we were urged to remember how tight budgets were, and how easily it could all be taken away. Okay, thanks. I left sobered and grateful to still be employed in this job that I love.

But then... this week the other ax fell. My freelance gig, writing a food column for Parenthood.com, is no more. Under constant pressure to cut costs, my editor said she finally had to cut back on freelance content, of which I am. I can't say I'm surprised. Budgets have been steadily shrinking in the publishing industry for the last several years, and I knew it was only a matter of time.

Depending on how I look at it, I either just lost a sizable portion of my grocery budget, or my monthly shoe, jewelry and sushi fund. Hmm, choices, choices.

I think I just developed a renewed interest in all those blogs about frugal cooking and eating.

This dovetails with our efforts to eat less meat, since meat is expensive.

Last night, in an effort to atone for our porterhouse birthday dinner, we ate like old-school vegetarians: roasted vegetables with quinoa, and homemade whole wheat bread.

This was partly to clean out our bloodstreams a little, but also to take it to the next level with my kids. What, they can eat oysters, but roasted beets make them cry?

I'll be honest. I didn't really expect them to eat the roasted vegetables. I figured they could have buttered bread or quinoa. Frankly, I didn't care that much. After our feast last night, they weren't going to die of hunger if they had a small meal tonight.

My son had buttered bread and some salad. My daughter wouldn't touch the bread, but scooped up her quinoa with her usual fish sauce and lime juice. But here's where it got weird. I put a tiny floret of cauliflower and a tiny cube of yellow beet on her plate.

"Eeeew, what's that? Why is that there?" I told her what they were and urged her to try to them.

"Just one, okay? Just one. Which is the smallest?" They were both pretty small, but I suggested the caulflower.

"Would it taste good in fish sauce?" Yeah, I thought it would definitely taste good in fish sauce and lime juice.

"Mmmm! That's so good! What is it called again? More cauliflower!"

I only started liking cauliflower a few weeks ago, so this was a total surprise. She ate almost all the cauliflower we had. She loves cauliflower.

And even with just bread and salad, my son didn't starve.

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The Mothership Method

(Or, how to sit down for dinner with your family without completely losing your mind)

It would be great if kids AND parents wanted boiled chicken and baby carrots every night for dinner. But, too bad, we picky parents want spicy, exotic, fun foods, and our kids want, well, sorta lame foods.
Here's the solution: break it down. Serve the dish deconstructed, and let everyone put their own dish together at the table. Sort of like tapas, or smorgasbord, or tacos. Or how in some parts of China you get a bowl of rice, and everything else is in the middle of the table and you take what you want for your own little bowl of rice. That way everyone gets to eat what they want, parents don't have to nag their kids, and kids get to feels some ownership over their meals. Plus, kids get exposed to the look and taste of the foods you hope they will one day love. But it's not just tacos. You'll be amazed at what can be served with the Mothership Method.

Ten Tips to Get Through Dinner Without Having A Nervous Breakdown

1. Accept That Kids Are Picky. No need to freak out on your cooking ability, or look at your kids like there is something wrong with them. It's called "neo-phobia", and it's just how they are, especially from ages 3-6.

2. Serve Meals Broken Down. Even grown-up meals like coconut curry or linguine with clams can be served in their elements, making them more appealing to kids. Grown ups can assemble their own jumble of deliciousness at their own plate while kids take on the pared-down elements.

3. Push if it Works, But Don't Nag If It Doesn't. Some kids are okay with being expected to taste everything on their plate. Others aren't. I think it's okay to push kids -- but not if you're turning dinner into a battlefield.

4. Suggest a Smell. Smelling a new food is easier than tasting it, and can sometimes provide a kid with the information needed to take that scary first bite. But don't confine smelling to new foods. Smell favorites, too, and help them develop their sense of smell by making a game out of it.

5. Don't Ask "Do You Like It?" Instead, try, "What does this remind you of?" or, "Would your cousins like this?" or, "Does this taste salty or sweet?". Asking if they like it or not gives kids too much power and ends the conversation. Besides, we don't care if they like it! We just want them to keep tasting it until it is familiar.

6. Don't Get Frustrated. Imagine being in Taiwan, or Nairobi, or Rome for the first time. Would you eat everything on the local menu? New foods are scary and gross. Our kids need time to learn about the foods that we eat.

7. No SubstitutionsThis is family dinner, not a diner. You, in all your wisdom, have provided foods that are healthy and delicious and appropriate for your children. There is something on the table for them to eat. Period.

8. No Snacks Before Dinner. This can be the hardest with our hectic schedules and hungry kids. But children who come to the table hungry are more likely to eat than cause trouble.

9. Put Peer Pressure To Your Advantage. School children are more likely to accept new foods if the alpha girls in their group accept them. Swap healthy food ideas on playdates.

10. Involve Your Kids In Cooking, Shopping, and Gardening. The more experience kids have handling and preparing a variety of foods, the more likely they are to eventually accept the foods. (But don't get upset if they help you make a complicated wonderful meal, and then refuse to eat it.)