Bland Ambition
Sun., January 7, 01:45 PM
I usually try not to quote an article in such detail, preferring to link to the source article. But I have found that some newspaper sites don't preserve the site to which I linked, leaving me with egg on my face. Leah Eskin's column here is too good to miss.
The modern child doesn't eat a thing. Perhaps one thing: pizza. Also noodle. And nugget. Three things. No more.
Deprived child! She labors away at crayon or long division. Follows with extracurricular efforts involving the soccer ball and spelling list. Washes hands following the three steps of the FDA-approved food-safety poster. Sits, unfolds her napkin. And is recompensed with pizza. Noodle. Or nugget.
We admire pizza and noodle. (We do not admire nugget.) But we find the menu limited. Not to mention repetitive. Pizza, noodle or nugget every day? Forever?
We do not blame the blameless child. We blame her parents. Consider the family dinner party. There the child slumps, wilted from an afternoon of monkey-bar management. And there the kitchen gleams, inviting and warm. The local cook stands alone, husking a tomatillo or smashing an avocado. The child paddles slowly toward the island, drawn by its sharp scents and eerie green palette.
With a great splash the presiding parent dives in, locks her child in the American Red Cross chest carry and backstrokes away from avocado-green peril. No! the parent pants, from the safety of the kitchen stool. My child won't eat that! She throws the damp waif a cherry lifesaver.
Though a guest, the protective parent packs her own provisions: a baggie of noodles. Elbowing aside the home cook, she makes room on the range. She boils and butters. And serves her child, whose eyes linger, curiously, on the illicit tostada.
Obediently the child slurps noodle while her parent explains, loudly: She won't eat a thing!
The restaurant offers no help. It proffers pages of possibilities to the literate. And a short list to the prereader: three color-your-own pictograms of smiling pizza, noodle and nugget. Price-tagged rock bottom.
The child points and eats without complaint. A condition we find confusing. Youth is destined to rebel. Isn't the fruit of the forbidden tree irresistible? Won't the noodle-and-nugget weary rise up as one, take to the streets and demand revolution? What do we want? Paella! When do we want it? Now!
Maybe those restrictive parents are on to something. They're cultivating the next generation of culinary enthusiasts, one bored palate at a time.
I felt an instant kinship. I hate picky kids. And, yes, I usually blame the parents. When my kids were little, the rule was "you have to taste it." I never forced anyone to eat what she didn't like, but no was was allowed to say "I don't like it" without tasting. Simple, huh?
The result was three adults who will try almost anything. When they lived at home, there was seldom any food that I couldn't sell to someone. Husband, of course, having eaten institutional cooking for so long, still prefers meat and mashed potatoes ("no skins!") with vegetables that have been cooked until they are dead. I didn't get to him soon enough.
The kids eat all kinds of vegetables, cheese, spices, fruits -- in a variety of styles, including Continental, Mediterranean, Asian, and, of course, kosher. Not everyone eats everything, but they are adventurous eaters. My son and his wife honeymooned in South Africa, and he told us about all the different foods he had never eaten before. I'm proud of them -- and maybe a little proud of myself as well.
Ms. Eskins included a simple curry recipe with her column; we are going to try a vegetarian version. And she quotes the best compliment from her youngest gourmet: "Did you order this?"
