On Life As A Picky Foodie

Often, when I sit down write, I think of a dear friend who lives on the other side of the world.  Literally.  When I’m melting in the heat, she’s complaining about the cold, when we’re freezing under seven layers, she’s all about her lazy summer afternoons.  Our lives are opposites in many many more ways than the weather and yet we are closer in many ways than a lot of people with whom I supposedly have much more in common.  Such as the place we choose to live.  

We became friends in that roundabout way that you do with people who you feel you’ve known forever five minutes after meeting them.  It’s funny to think how little time we have actually spent in each other’s company.  However, our friendship, while mostly virtual, is also very real.  We exchange recipes and cry together on occasion.  We email with quandaries that we may be hesitant to entrust to anyone else.  She loves my child and I love hers though we have never met them face to face.  All I know about her daily life are the snippets I’ve been able to piece together by reading between the lines of whatever it is that we are discussing at that moment in time.  Still, in this messed up, disconnected, online world, she is my friend.

Today, I made popsicles.  Because it’s hot.  New York is filthy and humid and everything, including the air, feels thick and sticky.  I thought of my friend and wanted to email her and say “make these now.”  I wanted to tell her about how the popsicles reminded me of the things I love about summer: lying in a hammock and looking up at the stars, chasing waves, watching the trees for a hint of a breeze, sharing watermelon at a picnic.  Then I realized that I am as far away from those things as she is.

My friend’s distance is seasonal.  Mine is because we made the decision to move to a bastion of urban, industrial, overpopulated grime.  Here in New York, you eat ice cream watching roaches scuttle at your feet.  You pay eight dollars for a piece of watermelon so small your toddler finishes it without leaving even a bite (and everyone knows toddlers rarely eat everything on their plate).  Our view is of a neighbor’s living room – or rather it would be were it not for the air conditioner taking up half the window.  My daughter’s contact with nature is mostly primped or caged. 

I blended the ripe mango, the two peaches, the cup of coconut milk.  Why are we here? I thought, falling down my popsicle-induced rabbit hole.  Why did I bring us here?  I poured the mixture into the molds and stuck it all in the freezer feeling quite resigned.  

A few hours later, Vida Lev and I were enjoying the fruit of my labor when DW came home.  “What do you want to do on our date?” he asked.  We had been looking forward to a few hours together for a while. 

There were endless options and opportunities.  Movies, restaurants, talks, readings, bookstores, walks, bike rides: Did we want to stay in Brooklyn or head into Manhattan?  Did we want to focus on dinner or grab a bite and get us some culture?  Indoors or outdoors?  Just us or with friends?

I looked at my daughter, enjoying her popsicle.  She picked up the NY atlas and said to her babysitter, who is also an actress, “this is where we live.”

Yes.  This is where we live.  

As Promised: Peanut Ginger Sauce

New York isn't for everyone.  I have wanted to move here since I discovered Paul Auster and Bob Dylan and the Beats. Since visiting as a preteen, I have been in love with this city.  A Brooklyn friend says the place where you feel most at home is where you understand the meshugaas.  I promised this recipe to the guy doing check-out duty at the Park Slope Food Co-op last week.  We got to chatting about what he does, what I do.  I recommended he steam rather than roast his veggies, he told me a little about leather tanning and Texas.  Meshugaas?  Maybe.  But I get it.  

We eat this sauce drizzled over roasted sweet potatoes and steamed broccoli.  Sometimes we add cranberries.  I'm sure it would go well with anything containing arugula.  It's good.

2 heaping Tablespoons good peanut butter (the kind with nothing but peanuts in it)

1 teaspoon coconut aminos (or soy sauce)

1/4 t ginger powder (I had run out of fresh ginger, this was a decent, less tangy substitute)

1/2 Tablespoon date syrup

1 teaspoon mirin

1/2 teaspoon ume plum vinegar

1/2 Tablespoon dried cilantro

5 Tablespoons water

about 10 fresh basil leaves finely chopped (optional: use for garnish)

whisk all the ingredients together (except the basil) with a fork until a dressing forms.  

Pour over warm salad.  Garnish with fresh basil.  

Note: you might need to add water, depending on how thick you like it or the quantity of vegetables you've prepared.  It's a hearty, flavorsome dressing that won't suffer from extra liquid though I suggest you add 1 Tablespoon at a time and adjust seasonings accordingly.

Wouldn’t it be lovely if we all enjoyed healthy foods?

Wouldn’t it be even lovelier if our children ate what we feel is healthiest with joy and pleasure and ease?

In my experience, they can and do… sometimes.

Recently, Debbie from Words to Eat By, one of my favourite Mum food bloggers came out and admitted that while she is all about the food, her little one sometimes has other ideas.  Quite courageous on her part!

It got me thinking about what I eat and how it has evolved to include this little person with a lot of big opinions. 

Let’s think up an example.  Like, maybe, I don’t know… green smoothies.  Vida Lev used to love them.  I’d put everything from kale to coriander (cilantro) in there.  Spinach?  No problem!  Chard?  Bring it on!  And berries and chlorella or spirulina -- even hemp seeds made an occasional appearance.  If you’re a Mom and you’ve asked me for advice about feeding your kid(s) – or even if you’re not but we’ve chatted nutrition -- chances are, I’ve thrown a green smoothie at you in one form or another.

Hell, green smoothies are my breakfast almost every morning. 

Sadly, not for Vida Lev.  No more.  This week, she said “non” for the first time – a clear, decisive, no-friggin’-way: “nonononononononon, uh uh, non non”.  While her ability to verbalize is brand new, she’s been pursing her lips and shaking her head for quite a while.  And green smoothies were one of the first things to get the thumbs down.   

At first I was freaked out.  But seeing as we’ve decided to trust Vida Lev to let us know her preferences from the first food she put into her mouth (cucumber), I figured I’d keep riding the wave and see where it led.

So far, we’ve had the mushroom phase, the cooked onion phase, the avocado phase(s), the apple and pear months, the nori phase that has yet to end.  There were a couple of banana days and kelp noodle nights. And, of course raisins – those never seem to go out of style.  She’s loved and hated the same foods twice in a day, gone off foods and then demanded them with a face that says Come on, didn’t you get the memo???

People ask me what I feed my child all the time. 

The easy answer is this: she eats what we eat.  For the most part, however, when I think I’m making something she’ll love, she turns her nose up at it.  On the other hand, when I doubt my eighteen-month old will be interested, she’s all about my plate! (like when she ate most of my jicama, beetroot and hijiki salad in a tangy carrot ginger dressing!)

The recipe below was no exception.  I thought it looked like mac ‘n cheese and don’t all kids like that stuff?  It contains some of her favourite foods: peas, pumpkin – or so I thought.  Besides, everyone says kids love pasta. 

Well, not this one.  She left her father and I to finish it off all by our selves.   

Pasta with Pumpkin Sauce and Macadamia Kream

(allergy warning: contains nuts)

As is often the case right now, dinnertime hit way too quickly.  There I was, slightly panicked but determined not to succumb to the draw of easy takeaway.  I think we’ve had pasta 3 or 4 times in the last 18 months.  It’s not something I make often mostly because I’m not a huge fan of how I feel after eating it.  But once in a while, on nights like this one, it works: unlike many of our staples, there is no pre-soaking, no pre-planning, just boiling water and a timer.  And the sauce?  This crazy little invention was the result of a quick scan of what we had in our cabinets and some improv.  Thirty minutes later, we were sitting down to dinner -- a much less embarrassing outcome than the last time I did improv and ended up taking my bra off in front of 20 people.

Ingredients

For the Pumpkin Sauce:

5 garlic cloves, clopped finely

1 15 oz. can pumpkin (425 gr)

¼ t dried sage

pinch rosemary

pinch chipotle powder*

squeeze lemon

2 c frozen peas

1 cup water + more (depending on the size of your pan)

* we use very little to keep it child-friendly but add more at the table to suit our individual tastes

For the Macadamia Kream:

½ c macadamia nuts (preferably soaked for a few hours, but not necessary)

½ c water

¼ small onion or shallot

½ T balsamic vinegar

salt

Instructions

Chop the garlic as fine as you can or, even better, use a garlic press.

Pour about an inch of water into a pan and add the garlic.  Bring to a boil and allow to simmer for a few minutes, until you can properly smell the garlic.  Make sure the water doesn’t all evaporate although it’s ok for some of it to. 

Then add the pumpkin as well as another cup of water, the sage and the rosemary.  Allow to simmer on a low flame, stirring occasionally.

In the mean time, you can make the macadamia Kream by simply combining all the ingredients – nuts, water, onion, balsamic, salt -- in a blender and blending until smooth.  (Note: I didn’t use any mustard in this version though I probably would add about ¼ t next time to give it a little extra kick)

Once the pumpkin has reduced a tad, add the frozen peas.  Cook until they are ready but not mushy.  Then add the chipotle and stir in a squeeze of lemon.  Turn off the heat and allow the sauce to cool slightly.  Then stir in the macadamia kream. 

The macadamia kream shouldn’t be cooked although the pumpkin sauce, being hot, will heat it up.

Serve over (gluten free brown rice or buckwheat) pasta.