What's for Dinner

While I make a hearty home cooked meal (almost) every night, I'm often flying by the seat of my too tight pants. I find myself subbing walnuts for pine nuts or simply doing without ingredients because I didn't have my shopping shit together. My paltry pantry pinches my panties in a pickle. And there goes my culinary mojo. Down the drain with the grease (Kidding! Don't ever ever put grease down the drain, people!!!).

I've decided to try a new MO this week. I'm not committing to a WHOLE. YEAR. like a resolution or anything. I'm talking a lousy week here, folks. Not even all seven days; I'm just thinking about the six days that I'm usually flying solo and wondering who the hell granted me my motherhood license in the first place.

This week I'm planning my menu. For the whole week. I perused cookbooks, websites, my recipe box (yes, I have a splattered old recipe box), and the clipped magazine cutouts stuck to the only magnetic side of my smudged stainless steel fridge that is practically tucked behind the cabinetry and hard to access. Note to self: Must add those recipes to aforementioned box.

So here's how our menu is stacking up at Chez Dirt & Noise:

Sunday:
Proscuitto wrapped salmon with herbed lentils and spinach, roasted endive, balsamic marinated strawberries, bananas foster (Thank you, Jamie Oliver!)

Monday:
Baked chicken drumsticks with carrots, black olives, lemon, roasted parsnips, baked maple apples, cheesy garlic bread, ice cream (The boys chose Neopolitan.)

Tuesday:
Proscuitto and goat cheese risotto, spinach salad with craisins, walnuts, homemade dijon/orange vinaigrette (We don't do bottled dressing here. Why bother when the homemade stuff is oh so easy and exponentially more tasty?)

Wednesday:
Fish tacos with avocado and cabbage/cilantro slaw, chili/cumin corn, black beans

Thursday:
Tofu stir fry with broccoli and snow peas, brown rice, sliced pears

Friday:
Homemade pizza with whole wheat crust, raw sugar snap peas and apple slices (Finger food fun!)


I actually went to the grocery store on Sunday to stock up for the week. I normally go to the store or farmer's market 3-5 times a week, depending on what kitchen fantasy strikes me. My goal is not to cut down my shopping trips, but it would be a nice byproduct (particularly for Deal, who gets dragged from Trader Joe's to Costco to Kroger to Harris Teeter umpteen times a week). I simply want less frenzy in the witching hours when Bird is cranking out homework and Deal goes from Mr. Congeniality to Commander Crankypants. And, it seems, the dog rings the dang bell to pee 600 times whilst I make dinner. Lark's small bladder makes the risotto a risky proposition considering the constant attention and stirring that dish needs. Alas, I shall persevere.

Food Safety: Caveat Emptor

"Caveat Emptor: is one of the many phrases I remember from my early days of Latin in the esteemed Dr. Larrick's class. (Sidebar: Every student should have been lucky enough to have had Dr. Larrick. He continues to inspire students in ways few can. Teaching is a gift. One that he keeps on giving. And for that we are thankful.) Anyhoo, "Caveat Emptor" is of course the commerce principle that means the buyer assumes the risk. It translates to "Let the buyer beware." We generally think of this in terms of purchasing cars, property, and pretty much anything from eBay, Craigslist, or the classified section (that is, if anyone still lists and buys stuff that way these days).

I never thought Caveat Emptor would apply to the food I buy.

We take leaps of faith everyday. We trust that the drivers among us will stop when the light is red. We trust our children's schools are secure. We trust that the bank protects our money. We trust that our municipality's water reading is accurate. We trust our cribs are tested and our toys lead-free. We trust the food stocked upon market shelves is safe.

Thanks to the likes of Stewart Parnell, the infamous Salmonella Peanut King, consumers can no longer afford to take a leap of faith when it comes to food purchases. The FDA has long been riddled with powerlessness and plagued with inefficiencies. Food safety, and in effect consumer wellness, has been on the back burner. It seems to me that we as a nation have focused more on making a buck and pulling a fast one on consumers than protecting public health. I'm thinking of the policies and attitudes of a certain eight years in the all-too-recent-past. Ahem. The FDA, through years of neglect and failure to modernize itself, has floundered in protecting us.

Well finally, in a bipartisan leap, the food safety bill looks like it's making headway to overhaul the FDA. Despite the fact that the Senate looks like it will wait until next year to address it, the bill is still getting some much deserved attention. It's at least a starting point. Slow but steady, right? The FDA, the government organization upon which we rely to ensure the food we consume is safe, has had puny resources to actually to its job, making us take leaps of faith in the grocery aisle, off restaurant menus, and in school cafeterias without even knowing it.

Spinach. Peanuts. Cookie dough. Ground beef. Chicken. Pet food.

Pretty basic items on any grocery list, right?

E. coli. Salmonella. Listeria.

I bet those aren't on your shopping list.


So where do we go from here?

Until our government gets rolling on passing and implementing this new food safety bill, it behooves us all to exercise Caveat Emptor in every food purchase we make. Even buying local, organically produced food does not guarantee it's safe for consumption.

Note that I write this a mother, a cook, a consumer. I'm not a pundit, a biologist, a lawyer, a lobbyist, or a politician. And my bet is that if you're not either, you too don't care about the in-fighting. We simply want to trust that the food we serve our children is not tainted. Food is sustenance, and should not be suspect.


Check out these resources for more information.
Safe Tables
@SafeTables on Twitter
Sign up for eAlerts about food recalls.
FDA food safety


PS
Thanks to Senator Dick Durbin of Illinois, Mike Taylor, advisor to the FDA Commissioner, Safe Tables and the fine bloggers (@GloPan, @punditmom, @morningsidemom, @soapboxmom, @jippert) who joined in on an informative call last week about food safety. Cheers to good health instead of just wealth!

Something's Turniping Me On

We are fortunate to participate in a CSA that showers us with an amazing locally grown, organic bounty of produce every week. Farmer Tom of Double T Farm takes good care of our bodies and our palates. The boys wait at the screen door to see what goodies are in my bag when I get home from Tom's local pick up spot. I empty my hemp bag emblazoned with "I love green!" on the front. I always chuckle, thinking to myself that "I love greens!" would be oh so much more appropriate.

Last week I brought home a veritable feast of green goodness. Every week elicits a culinary orgasm. I've been plowing through new recipes and cooking adventures, none of which involves meat. I'm not opposed to meat mind you. I crave an Inferno burger from MoJoe's time to time and even spice up the cholesterol intake by indulging in onion rings once in a while. Once. In. A. While. Neither my waistline nor my aging heart can handle that lack of nutritional integrity on a regular basis. But dang, my tastebuds need to be coddled every now and then. But I digress... For the last week or so I've been preparing vegetarian meals, not by choice but by happenstance. Our plates are so loaded with goodness that there's no room (and no need) to add anything else.

Believe it or not, turnips are a crowd favorite.

Turnips.

You heard me. I said TURNIPS.

T-U-R-N-I-P-S!

And most nights I don't even cook 'em.


Here's what I like to call my CSA Salad:

Quarter and thinly slice one large turnip into bite size pieces (by all means, save the greens to stir fry!). Peel and seed a cucumber. Slice into little bite size half moons. Now here comes my one cheater ingredient. Add one sliced avocado, cut into pieces that are uniform with the turnip and cuke. Add the zest of one lemon (stop grating at the yellow lest you get that bitter white pith!). Now add the juice of that lemon. Grate some fresh black pepper on top, give it all a gentle stir, and refrigerate for 30 minutes or so. Serve cold.

No salt. No oil. No Hidden Valley ranch.

I'm telling you, this crunchy goodness is a fine palate cleanser and compliments any meal. In fact, we just served it alongside an Indian feast of dal, palak paneer, and whole wheat naan. I added some chopped fresh cilantro to make it better suit the Indian flavors.

And no one missed the meat.



Cross posted at Foodie Mama.

Eating On Board the Marrakesh Express

One of the ways we teach our children an appreciation of the world around us is through food. Exposure is everything. Since I'm half Indian, it's no big deal to belly up to a dinner of dal, chicken tikka masala, spinach paneer, and a steaming bowl of Basmati rice, cooked perfectly in the rice cooker. For spring break, we took a little jaunt to Morocco with the kids.

And we drove there from Raleigh in only five hours.

While on a spring break vacation in the delightful city of Savannah, Georgia, we ate at a Moroccon restaurant . The dim lighting, velvet draped walls, tented ceilings, music, and decor transported us to Marrakesh. It was a not a particularly child-friendly place, but it was a slow Sunday night, and we were confident in our boys' restaurant manners. Neither they, nor the restaurant, disappointed.

Here's a rundown of what we all shared:

Bread with harissa, a Moroccon hot sauce (that was divine!)
Cornish hen bastila, cornish hen, onion, parsley, spices wrapped in phyllo dough and baked
Lamb kebab with roasted vegetables and saffron rice
Shrimp and scallops sauteed with tomatoes, peppers, paprika, garlic, parsley
Roasted cornish game hen with couscous
Tropical fruit, coconut, and chocolate wrapped in phyllo dough and baked

A solitary crumb was not to be found.

The best part? In traditional Moroccon custom, we ate with our fingers! The boys thought it was a hoot, and truth be told, so did we. The other highlight was the belly dancing. And I mean the real deal, not the lame stuff I did my senior year of high school when I played Tintinabula in "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum." The kids were mesmerized, mouths agape, eyes owl wide.

From the boys' perspective, every meal paled in comparison for the rest of our trip. All they wanted was to eat with their fingers again. And they were begging for more lamb. So our little international foodies have expensive taste.

At least it beats the expense of a trip overseas to Morocco. For now...

Cross posted at Foodie Mama.

Taste This!

I have been a cooking fiend the last few days. I serendipitously received a new cookbook on my doorstep last Friday. I generally read cookbooks like they're novels. I pore over them in the bookstore, thumb through dogeared pages among the racks at used bookstores, and spend hours gazing at recipes online. On rainy days I curl up with a cup of Tension Tamer tea and browse through a stack of cookbooks. I clip recipes from the likes of Cooking Light , Food & Wine , Cookie , Bon Appetit , and Southern Living, all of which arrive in my mailbox monthly. You know what? I never make a single recipe.

I use cookbooks, recipes in general really, as inspiration. I don't measure a thing and am fond of substitutions when the recipe calls for something I don't have on hand and can't manage a trip to Harris Teeter. I joke that I am the queen of "kitchen sink cooking;" I can muster up a great meal with a dash of this and a dollop of that, whatever lurks in the back of the pantry or in the bowels of the freezer are fair game. I consult a recipe just to get ideas for spice blends, cooking times, food pairings, or menu options. It is rare that I cook with a book propped open.

Until I discovered Taste This! by Gina Von Esmarch.

I was immediately drawn to the photographs. I hate when cookbooks don't have pictures. It must be a Pavlovian thing. I made three things out of Gina's cookbook over the weekend, improvising just a tish, as any creative cook is wont to do. Let me tell you, this is the first time in my life that what I cooked turned out exactly like it looked in the picture. I'm telling you, her photos could have very well been from my own little kitchen.

Here's what I cooked up:
Chicken Jerusalem, delectable shredded chicken and artichoke hearts in a wine and cream sauce served over rice. I added garlic and used gewurtraminner since I was plum out of sherry. In a rare twist, we didn't have leftovers. Deal even asked for some the next day for lunch. It's been only three days, and Mac Daddy is asking for this dish again. Sure signs of a family keeper, no?

Parmesan Crisps, sourdough bread coated in finely grated, you guessed it Sherlock, Parmesan. Butter, bread, cheese. How could one go wrong?! We could barely stop nibbling on these while I was dishing up dinner. D.I.V.I.N.E. Gina has these babies in the appetizer section, but they are so good that you'll want to serve them with the main course too. I put them in a cool glass bowl on the table so we could help ourselves as we enjoyed our meal. I stopped counting at five. Like I said, butter, bread, cheese. Can you blame a girl?

Needle in a Haystack, chocolate candy, 'nuff said. Pretty much the only dessert I can make without screwing up is instant pudding. But I mastered these on the first try. Who knew chow mein noodles and chocolate are long lost soul mates? We devoured these. The best part? So easy and fun to make with the kids! I used half chocolate, half butterscotch chips. I added unsalted peanuts, mini marshmallows, and shredded coconut. The recipe recommends raisins too, but you know how I feel about those wrinkled has-been grapes. This treat is going to be my go-to recipe for school room mom duties, holiday gifts, block parties, you name it. Delish.

Think I'm gushing? Here are some family testimonials:

"This is the BEST haystack I've ever had!" exclaimed Deal, age 3.

Commenting on said treats, "I know a way to get rich, Mommy. Let's make and sell these!" remarked my entrepreneurial, if not somewhat cheeky, Bird, age 5.

What's so great about Taste This! is that there is nothing chi-chi about it, no trips to the fancy food show to track down obscure ingredients. Easy, family friendly, fast cooking. No chicken nuggets or other such crap posing as healthy kid fare. These recipes are family fare. You know me, no cooking two separate meals for parents and children. The whole family eats the same meal; I am not a short order cook (no short jokes, please). This cookbook is great for a seasoned cook and a kitchen greenie alike. The Finger Lickin' Chicken is next on my list.

Oh, want to get your hands on this too? Check it out .

I can't wait to try more from this cookbook. I have a feeling it's going to be dogeared and sauce splattered very soon.

Fondue is Fun to Do!

Who doesn't like to play with their food and dip their morsels into sauces of all kinds? Fondue is the perfect fun family meal. We map it all out so it's safe, mind you. And while I have germ issues of all kinds, I can roll up sleeves and get into some fondue. I'm eating family after all, not a bunch of strangers in a Swiss cafe.

We, with our Wisconsin roots, use cheese, not oil or broth. It's admittedly not as heart healthy, but what kid (or ahem, grown up) doesn't like cheese?! I melt the cheese on the stove top first (some crushed garlic, grated gruyere or swiss, a bit of flour, milk, white wine) and transfer it to the fondue pot with a lit tea light instead of the sterno stuff. Then I give each person a plate of bite size goodies to dip and devour.

Par steamed broccoli florets, sliced apples and pears, cubes of ham, chunks of sourdough bread, quarters of vidalia onions, snap peas, zucchini rounds. I also give the boys a ramekin of lemon garlic butter and a dijon vinaigrette (ranch dressing would be fine too) for dipping. They scarf down their veggies and have a blast playing with their food. Be warned, it is an ordeal simply choosing a fondue fork that is just the right color.

Melted chocolate in individual ramekins is a delightful end to a fondue dinner. We use strawberries, bananas, angel food or pound cake, madelines (those cakey French cookies that are amazing from Costco!), kiwi, pineapple chunks, and marshmallows.

The best part about fondue is that it's a lingering dinner, which means more family time.

Cross posted at Foodie Mama.

Children Deserve Better Than Chuck

A few weeks ago the Parade magazine insert in our Sunday paper showcased TV news anchor Brian Williams, who talked of his mother's famous goulash. A can of Spaghetti-Os and half a pound of ground chuck. Blech. Gag. Yuck. More ghoulish than goulash in my humble opinion. No disrespect, Mrs. Williams.

Why do so many people presume kids don't have taste buds? They are not predisposed to mushy, salty, saucy, rubbery, processed foods. It is our job as parents to hone those taste buds and help develop our children's palates.

Our culinary responsibility as parents does not consist of sustenance alone. General rule of thumb: if I won't eat it, neither will my kids. This is precisely why we skip most of the grocery store aisles (unlike the parents of two with a third on the way shopping alongside me yesterday - their cart had enough sodium content and high fructose corn syrup to drive a race horse to heart failure).

Needless to say, no ground chuck in my house. Last night for dinner we grilled some rib eye steaks. Natural beef with no additives. I find it interesting that we spend so much time and money protecting our kids from touching hot stove tops, tumbling down stairs, and staying warm on a winter day, but we pay little to no mind to what we put into their vulnerable little bodies.

So back to the rib eye and our very simple yet delectable dinner...

Grilled steak, cut into quite manageable pieces, was a lovely treat. I assure you that I didn't get such good cuts of meat on my plate until well into adulthood. I made a "kitchen sink" steak sauce that made the unadorned steak even better, and besides, condiments make everything better. My semi-homemade sauce was equal parts of black pepper sauce from the Asian market, sour cream, and molasses. I added a tablespoon of fresh horseradish, a couple splashes of worcestershire sauce, and a few drops of cream. Stir it all up and dip away. And in terms of budget, flank steak is a great affordable alternative. Just slice it pretty thinly against the grain, marinate, and grill. Takes just a few minutes on each side.

Our dinner was rounded out by a salad of quartered tiny tomatoes, seeded cucumber slices, sweet onions, and chopped Italian parsley. A few drops of olive oil and red wine vinegar, along with the requisite sea salt and pepper finished it off. We also had roasted fingerling potatoes that are quite buttery on their own and green beans quick roasted with slivers of fresh garlic. Some warm french bread helped up sop up all the juicy goodness on our plates. Giving kids the opportunity to "play" with their food makes meal time more fun.

And for dessert, fresh madelines (those cakey French cookies) from the Costco bakery, raspberries, blackberries, and home whipped cream with a touch of vanilla.

Clean plate club all around.

And just for kicks, we ate in the dining room. But no fine china. I'm no risk taker.

Cross posted at Foodie Mama.

You Are *Where* You Eat

My book club recently read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. The book changed my life. Oh, you heckle me and jeer at such a hyperbolic statement. I hear you; Web 2.0 is that powerful. Snicker not, dear readers. I mean it. Animal, Vegetable, Miracle changed my life. And my family's. Our newly adopted philosophy is not just "You are what you eat," it is "You are where you eat."

In a nutshell, a nutshell indigenous to Kingsolver's farm in Virgina, natch. Barbara (I've read all her books so I think she'd be cool with the first name basis here.) and her family lived for one year on what they grew or raised on their own farm. Homemade cheese included! They supplemented their fare with what they could purchase from fellow farmers and vowed to only consume what could be purchased from a 50-mile radius. That means giving up peanut M&Ms, Haribo gummi bears, and Malbec. Well, that's what such a commitment would mean for me.

What Barbara did was not unconventional or radical; she simply lived as our ancestors did not all that long ago. Tomatoes do not grow in most places in November. So why do we settle for mealy, waxy ones during winter months? How many times have you chewed that iceberg, tomato, and stale crouton salad drenched in ranch dressing with absolutely no orgasmic sounds brewing from your tastebuds? Exactly how fresh is that kiwi that flew for two days to get to your local market? No telling how many days you can add to account for those little green gems to be picked, packed, trucked. Fresh? Nah!

Now compare those mealy flavorless tomatoes to the ruby red ones handpicked from your own summer plot of soil. No. Comparison. Ditto for the cukes, squash, okra (what, you don't grow okra, much less eat it?! You are missing out on a Southern and Indian delicacy!), chard (Don't tell me you don't eat chard either.), spinach, and even basil and dill.

The beauty of Barbara's book was not just how it enlightened me to try to eat locally. I gained a fresh new perspective of farming and farmers. Some neighbors invited the neighborhood younguns to come pick carrots and potatoes from their vast garden. What a joy to see the kids hand pluck carrots, brush off the pesticide free dirt, and chomp away! What a teaching moment to bring to life where our vegetables really come from. Something we all take for granted. We have become inured to the balnd flavor and have come to expect uniform perfection. God forbid the apples have blemishes. We treat our produce the way we treat women in our society; they must look perfect to be desirable.

The Dirt & Noise family joined a CSA this year. Farmer Tom has surpassed our tastebud expectations week after week. His little tomatoes were candy. His basil divine. Snap peas went like candy corn, with both Bird and Deal clamoring for handful after handful. Mac Daddy didn't even get a taste. And the lettuce and turnip salad we enjoyed tonight was spectacular. Truly. Who knew that lettuce had its own flavor that need not be masked with bottled dressing (a condiment we do not own...why buy when I can make my own concoction without high fructose corn syrup?). The turnip is an oft overlooked root vegetable. They are delicious raw or roasted. The most divine food is also the simplest and the freshest.

Sidebar:
Our salad was simply hand torn curly leaf lettuce, sliced raw turnips (not even peeled because the real deal have no freaking wax !), freshly ground black pepper (never the pre-ground powdery stuff in my kitchen), and a splash of olive oil and red wine vinegar. I'm telling you, Bird was eating the turnips as quickly as I could cut them. It's a wonder we had enough for the salad.

We have not adopted Barbara's full regime but we are doing what we can. Local veggies, meat, and some cheese. Local wine frankly sucks so we still get that imported from outside our fine state. Organic for the most part, especially for dairy products and meat. We live a nitrite free and high fructose corn syrup free life. I'm not over-the-top since we still eat out (fast food even, Gasp!), but I am vigilant when it comes to my grocery list.

We take our food for granted. We take our growers for granted. We are a country of entitled consumers. We must have instant gratification. We think that if we can afford it we must have it. We indulge in crap and don't give our children the benefit and joy of a diversified palate. We squash our children's gastronomic curiosity. No 15-year old suddenly wants to eat habanero corn chowder and sweet potato biscuits with cilantro butter. Oh man, the shit kids eat and the shit their parents feed them is a whole other post.

We never, ever, ever think about the political ramifications of our food choices. Yes, political. Food consumption requires food creation. That means consolidated big business farming, chemical fertilizer lobbyists, astronomical fuel consumption, packaging waste, and a bevy of other issues. Michael Pollan's article is a must-read.

I urge you to read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle and do your own homework on the food choices you make. To steal a line from Loreal, you and your family are worth it.

Thank God for TV

Tonight before dinner Bird wanted to say a prayer that he made up all by himself. Apparently he was quite proud of his masterpiece because he's been reminding me all day that he's going to say a prayer instead of our traditional thank-yous before dinner. I even caught him whispering something that sounded an awful lot like a prayer in the car this morning, and I wasn't even speeding, swerving, or cussing like I normally do when monogrammed minivans and W stickers are present.

Sidebar: WTF is up with the preppy swirly pink monogram on your VEHICLE?! Muffy and Biff, I have seen it all. Now I must go fix myself a bloody mary to deal with this prepdom. Spicy with Absolut Peppar, natch.

I'm not sure where Bird's gush for God came from but I honored his wishes. Here's what he said at the table tonight with hands clasped, Deal diligently and earnestly repeating every word. And me, I was trying not to snicker while feeling touched and humbled at the same time.

In Bird's words:

"Thank you, God, for our dinner. For our broccoli.
Thank you for trees. And nature.
Thank you, God, for making everything.
Oh, and stumps.
Thank you for our bones.
Thank you for all of us.
Thank you for potties and for playing outside.
Thank you, God, for books.
Thank you for toys and treats.
And thank you for TV.
Amen."

I am pretty sure I have the only kid in America, perhaps this hemisphere, who includes broccoli in his prayers. Both Bird and Deal clamor for it in the produce aisle, making me proud yet wince with a bit of embarrassment lest people think I deprive my children of tasty, preservative-laden treats and other delicacies that reek of childhood. I presume the stumps he refers to are tree stumps since we don't know any amputees. Perhaps we've been reading the Giving Tree a bit too often. I am glad he separated potties, trees, nature, and playing outside. I am working on convincing Bird and Deal that just because nature calls while they're playing outside near a tree, it doesn't mean they shouldn't march the six steps into the house to pee in the newly renovated bathroom we paid good money for. Let's not take indoor plumbing for granted, boys. My favorite is the last nod to God about TV. Bird has not earned a television time reward for a few days now. I suppose his voice did have a lilt of nostalgia and yearning for the ol' Sony Wega.

Food, Glorious Food!

Lobster with tomato and onion salad
Grilled London broil with green beans and naan
Steamed shrimp and roasted asparagus
Sushi with seaweed salad
Shepherd's Pie and steamed broccoli
Spinach lasagna with romaine and parmesan
Mole chicken with roasted garlic broccoli

There you have it. A menu from Chez Dirt & Noise. That's what we've eaten for dinner for the last week. We, meaning Bird, Deal, Mac Daddy, and I. I love to cook and I love to eat even more. It's no secret that I can out eat Mac Daddy any day of the week. My boys are out eating me these days, so the bag boys at Harris Teeter and Whole Foods are probably thinking I have a crush on them. Our family makes more grocery runs than any family in America. I'm also willing to bet that we consume more pickles (Claussen only!), blueberries, romaine lettuce, and Stonyfield Farm yogurt than any household in America.

I cook dinner every single night. All five of my burners and both ovens get a workout. And boy were the All Clad pans worth it. We sit at the table and eat dinner as a family every single night. Having dinner ready, table set, and wine poured is as close to a 1950s housefrau that I'll ever be. I can't say I swab on lipstick, tie a silken ribbon in my hair, and spritz on Chanel #5 but I do have a proper dinner prepared. Only candle light would finish this Hallmark picture, but as you know, fire doesn't exactly spell S-A-F-E-T-Y when there are preschool boys poking each other at the table. Alas, we save the candles for birthday cakes.
Sidebar: Am I the only one a tad woozy at the thought of eating a slice of cake that a snot-nosed three-year old just blew and spittled on?!

I cook one meal for all of us. Always have. Always will. My mom spent much of my childhood dinner times in a frenzy, cursing my father under her breath (it turns out for more reasons than dinner duties) because she put on a short order cook's hat when she entered the kitchen. My brother ate nothing but American ballpark fare for years, while my dad insisted on traditional Indian dishes and rice. Back when I was about 10-years old I must have subconsciously made a pact with my future husband and family to create a happy family meal time tradition. First of all, I'm not going to prepare two separate meals. Secondly, food is one of life's pleasures that is far more than sustenance. It is a glimpse into other cultures and rituals. Eating is an act to be be enjoyed leisurely, abundantly, and joyfully. One of the greatest gifts I can give my boys is a sense of curiosity. Why should food be exempt from their expanding world of wonder?

Bird and Deal devour sushi, especially toro (fatty tuna), which is of course the most expensive item on the menu. They get a kick out of eating seawood salad and had a blast trying sauteed sea beans. Bird even ventures out to add a droplet of Tabasco on his sunnyside up eggs from time to time. They eat dal, chicken curry, and palak paneer as voraciously as they chow down on grilled squash and tilapia with brown butter sauce. So far the only thing Bird won't eat is potatoes, no matter how I cook them or how much cheese is slathered on top. Deal doesn't enjoy snap peas, but I think that pesky string is too much for his molarless gums to chew.

In fact, Bird and Deal eschew typical kid fare, which has proven embarrassing on more than one occasion. They poke around pizza and generally pick off the black olives, pepperoni, and green peppers. Dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets are left alone to rumble in someone else's tummy, regardless what condiment is available for dipping. French fries are an afterthought. They'd rather eat the roasted red pepper and habanero soup and goose that we have for Thanksgiving dinner (Thanks to our dear friend and family chef, Uncle Ty!) than munch on nitrite-laden turkey slabs and canned green beans that you might find at the typical kids' table every November.

Bird and Deal have already developed an impressive palate, asking for manchego cheese, capers, smoked salmon, lamb with mint jelly, and hot and sour soup by name. I know their school buddies will influence them, and they'll saunter home asking why they don't get Lunchables in their lunchbox or whining that the other guys will never come over to play if we have Tandoori chicken for dinner. They'll get over it. Eventually my brother did, and he loves him some Cajun food now.

Sure, we go to McDonald's too. Once we went twice in one weekend and thoroughly enjoyed it. But the boys get apples instead of fries and milk instead of soda. I am appalled at how many little tykes drink soda. What a horrid habit for the very young! We eat plenty of hot dogs, cole slaw, and meatballs at Chez Dirt & Noise too. My point is that we all eat whatever is on the menu. Everyone tries at least one bite of everything. So far there have been few dinner times the boys aren't inducted into the Clean Plate Club. I'm no foodie; I just love good, fresh food and view eating as an event to be shared and celebrated, not just necessary caloric intake to fuel the body and keep the small intestine cleansed.

My favorite part of everday is when we hold hands before dinner and say something we're thankful for from the day. Sometimes this is as simple as, "I'm thankful Daddy is home early to play before dinner." or "I'm thankful for a nice day." There are more poignant, touching lines like, "I'm thankful my family loves me." and "I'm thankful for a brother." It's no fun digging into brussels sprouts and pancetta all weepy eyed. I hope that Bird and Deal will carry this tradition on to their families one day. I'm pretty sure they'll lose it during their sodium rich Ramen Noodles and cold pizza fraternity days, but perhaps it will reemerge later in their adult years.

I'm betting that if Bird and Deal continue to don aprons and "help" me cook dinner, they'll be impressing the ladies when they whip up a mean roast leg of lamb and cauliflower gratin for a first date. That is, if the chick eats anything other than salad with a squeeze of lemon juice and laxatives. If there's anything I'm teaching Bird and Deal, it's that real women eat. And relish it.