I Like It, But Not A Lot
So last week I got an organic veggie box delivered through my school cooperative. It was brilliant. Great, organic food delivered locally and with community hands. What’s not to love?
Plenty, my kids would tell you. I thought this would be a brilliant way of being more creative with dinner and trying new recipes. I cannot tell you how sick I am of making the same meals week on week and despairing as dinner time looms about what to cook or hearing that dreaded question from my 8-year-old, “What’s for dinner tonight?”
So in my box was a great big butternut squash. Perfect time to think about something different for dinner. I settled on a pumpkin risotto adding the Bangalow Bacon I had recently bought from the Dinner Ladies. Kids love rice, kids love bacon, kids won’t notice the squash. Winner, right?
Dinner prep started, underway and on the table. I felt buoyed by trying something new and early signs were good. My 5-year-old says “Thanks for dinner mama. I love this dinner, it’s my favourite.” Yippee. Mummy 1 point. Unfortunately, that was my high point. Things unravelled pretty fast. My 8-year-old picked up a piece of the orange stuff and put it to one side and then asked what the shiny white things were (onions in case you’re wondering). Their feedback went something like this.
By the end of the meal, ALL they had eaten was the bacon. I’m not kidding. Maybe one spoonful of rice each was consumed on top of the bacon. Urgh.
The next night, they got baked beans on toast. I’m not kidding. I felt like a failure and I didn’t want to invest any more time making something that was only going to get a lukewarm reception. Unsurprisingly, given it was from a tin, the beans were inhaled.
Kids and food baffles me. How can I cook 10 adults a delicious, well-received three course meal, while a pasta dish made by the same hands, in the same kitchen, can send my small people over the edge. I feel like it’s the one thing (apart from sleep) where I always seem to take one step forward and 13 steps back. Shopping in the snacks aisle, I feel like I’m caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. I know I should try new, homemade options, but I just can’t handle the rejection or the wasted time, if it fails. Kids are the worst food critics. I’m sure if they would if they would happily score me a la MasterChef and My Kitchen Rules “And tonight mummy I give you a 3.5 out of 10. You must leave the kitchen now.” If only I could!