I don’t like to cook. I wish I did. It seems like something I should enjoy. It’s all about caring for yourself and other people, and I like that. It’s something I could do with the boys. I like that. Moms that cook often have elaborate systems for getting their weekly meals planned, ingredients purchased, and food on the table, and I LOVE elaborate systems. And yet, cooking just doesn’t give me that warm fuzzy feeling.
I like to bake occasionally. I can follow a recipe. Sometimes I get excited about a super-simple-yet-delicious crock pot recipe. This year we hosted Thanksgiving, and I really enjoyed pulling together one showstopper of a holiday meal. But we had quesadillas for dinner last night. Tonight we’ll probably have dinosaur nuggets. Tomorrow might be cereal.
I grew up eating cereal for dinner. My mom didn’t cook much, and we would eat out a lot. Dad, on the other hand, is a great cook, and he does love it. He likes to hunt down great recipes, store his favorites, experiment with whatever ingredients he has on hand. He has a favorite fish market, and has picked his own mushrooms. He’s the parent that made sure I ate a vegetable every so often. I have plenty of great memories of hanging out with him in the kitchen. And yet, in the mish mash of genetic hand-me-downs, I did not get the love-to-cook genes. Left to my own devices I could happily eat a rotating diet of PBJ, pasta with butter, and oatmeal-- for months on end.
Which is totally fine with me, except that I do want to be sure the boys are getting what they need. Both nutritionally and as “food experience.” I want them to grow up enjoying a lot of different kinds of food, and I want them to have a touch of adventurousness about what they eat. Right now, they get most of their meals at school. We’re talking beautifully prepared, organic, culturally varied, allergy sensitive non-stop deliciousness. And of course, they’ll both eat all kinds of things at school they’d never dream of eating at home. Miles will tell you his favorite food at school are bananas and tofu. Offer him a banana at home and he’ll regularly say “No Thank You. I don’t like bananas at home.” When they outgrow their culinary paradise, though, I’m going to have to find it in me to do more regular cooking. I want them to be healthy and I want them to enjoy trying new things. I want them to love to cook when they grow up.
I like to bake occasionally. I can follow a recipe. Sometimes I get excited about a super-simple-yet-delicious crock pot recipe. This year we hosted Thanksgiving, and I really enjoyed pulling together one showstopper of a holiday meal. But we had quesadillas for dinner last night. Tonight we’ll probably have dinosaur nuggets. Tomorrow might be cereal.
I grew up eating cereal for dinner. My mom didn’t cook much, and we would eat out a lot. Dad, on the other hand, is a great cook, and he does love it. He likes to hunt down great recipes, store his favorites, experiment with whatever ingredients he has on hand. He has a favorite fish market, and has picked his own mushrooms. He’s the parent that made sure I ate a vegetable every so often. I have plenty of great memories of hanging out with him in the kitchen. And yet, in the mish mash of genetic hand-me-downs, I did not get the love-to-cook genes. Left to my own devices I could happily eat a rotating diet of PBJ, pasta with butter, and oatmeal-- for months on end.
Which is totally fine with me, except that I do want to be sure the boys are getting what they need. Both nutritionally and as “food experience.” I want them to grow up enjoying a lot of different kinds of food, and I want them to have a touch of adventurousness about what they eat. Right now, they get most of their meals at school. We’re talking beautifully prepared, organic, culturally varied, allergy sensitive non-stop deliciousness. And of course, they’ll both eat all kinds of things at school they’d never dream of eating at home. Miles will tell you his favorite food at school are bananas and tofu. Offer him a banana at home and he’ll regularly say “No Thank You. I don’t like bananas at home.” When they outgrow their culinary paradise, though, I’m going to have to find it in me to do more regular cooking. I want them to be healthy and I want them to enjoy trying new things. I want them to love to cook when they grow up.
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