Thursday, August 7, 2008
There was once a time when my daughter ate sweet potatoes with ras el hanout, eggplant with asofoetida, broccoli with fleur de sel, thin slivers of raw zucchini…and then something in her young brain clicked. I attribute it to her ability to say, “no.” I hear the word in ever changing permutations—no more mom; no no no; or my personal favorite, no following by unceasing laughter.
When we had Belle, I really worried about how to make her a varied eater. I didn’t want her to be so snobbish that she couldn’t find pleasure in the banal and even bad; but at the same time I wanted her to appreciate fruits and vegetables and most importantly the homemade. And, of course, I know that it is about a lifetime of eating, so I am not discouraged so much as reflective. Recently she is focused on her own power and ability to say no; all of her favorites (tomato rice, potatoes with peas, confetti dosa) are no gos.
But, interestingly eggs work. She didn’t have eggs until a few months ago when all her allergy tests came back negative. Even after the tests, I was admittedly skittish, but eventually we gave her whites and then yolks. The doctor honestly would have had me just give her an omlette the day we got the test back. While as a kid, I was very ambivalent towards eggs, she adores them.
One way that she continues to eat them is in stracchiatella soup. As with everything, it is a little untraditional. I boil starina pasta in faux chicken stock (hummus and water.) Then, I pop in some frozen spinach; right now my toddler is in a full on sit out about green vegetables but I am ever the optimist. Finally, an egg. For her, I cook them hard; for me, I sometimes crack it in my soup bowl. Now, I should say this worked last time we made it; but as toddlers are capricious, I don’t know if it will work next week (or even today for that matter.)
Labels: Ethnic Cuisine: Italian Food