Mothership Meals and Satellite Saucers: Shattered Candy

Sunday, May 31, 2009

Shattered Candy

I like candy.

I don't like it for breakfast, or mixed into breakfast cereal or ketchup, or masquerading as vitamins or pretending to be anything other than the glorious thing that it actually is -- a mildly subversive experience with decadence.

When I was a kid in the summer we used to go to the Penny Patch and pick out 5- and 10- and 25-cent candies from shelves of glass jars. The picking was half the experience -- an exquisite kind of torture, because you only had a dollar or two, and could only get so much. As much as you fervently planned to come next time with FIVE or TEN dollars and get EVERYTHING you wanted, somehow there you always were with a sweaty handful of small change.

You could blow the whole thing on a few yards of licorice whips, or get a box of spicy pink bubblegum in the shape of cigarettes that puffed clouds of powdered sugar, or get caramel Sugar Daddies that might or might not wrench the fillings out of your teeth. Candy was weird and dangerous and spicy and sometimes hurt to eat, like Pop Rocks. Also, it was one of the only things you would really buy on your own, and one of the only stores you'd really go into on your own with real business to do, and you probably didn't want your parents to know you were there, so there was this thrill of independence. When you came out of the store with your little brown bag of treats, what can I say? It was like you'd scored.

Ah, those were the days. Candy sucks now, the same few offerings, no fun, no thrills. I have no time for it, and I am scornful of my children that they like this modern crap. I know, I know, I'm a crabby old fart, but I make up for my crabbiness when we discover a good old-fashioned candy counter and let my children share the thrills of candy lust. Recently we found a vintage store on Court Street that has candy jars of what are now basically old fashioned candy -- the candy I grew up with. Sprees, violet or lemon candies, and one of my all-time favorites, Charleston Chews.

Yesterday I gave them out at my son's birthday party as part of the goody bag. "You have to freeze these," I told the kids. "Then you shatter them."

"What do you mean?" one kid asked.

I wanted to give him really explicit directions: You should be in a bathing suit, preferably an orangey-red racer back tank, and you should be cool to the bone from hours in the pool, but the blazing sun will have dried your skin, so that you are basically a perfect balance of wet, warm, dry and cold. Your suit will be damp, as will the crumpled dollar in your hand. You will take the Charleston Chew (vanilla, DUH!) from the freezer, which is still a few years away from freezing Milky Ways and Three Musketeers -- right now it is only Charleston Chews that any retailer has thought of freezing. You pay the guy, without even thinking about if he's cute or not. Why would you care? Outside, you squat down on the pavement under the snack bar awning and with a resounding, expert CRACK, smash the Charleston Chew onto the pavement, shattering it into perfect bite-sized pieces.

"You just smash it," I told the kid. "You'll see."

He has to find his own path. That is the way.

No comments:

Post a Comment

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.)