Tuesday, January 12, 2010

When in Doubt, Make Pizza

Now, if you’re one of those people who believes everyone should just shut up and eat whatever is put in front of him with a smile and LIKE IT, you might as well stop reading. Of course, if you do keep reading, I’m sure you’ll have lots of things to say to me about how I’m raising my children incorrectly. Oh well. That’s the risk of blogging, I guess.

My household is made up of the following members and their associated food issues:

Daniel G. Moir, age 42. Dan is the quintessential “guy.” He will not, can not, does not stand for anything remotely resembling “hot dish” (that’s a “casserole” for all my east coast peeps). Different food types can’t touch each other. Seriously, if the man eats vegetables (which, to be fair, he does) he will actually finish eating everything else on the table first and then have the proffered vegetable as a separate course. Additionally, he prefers to avoid anything that can be considered “production” around meals. In his perfect “guy” world, all meals would come frozen, be heated on tin foil and eaten off paper plates.

Rebekah M. Moir, age 38. I’m a food addict. I don’t care what it is or how it’s prepared. With a few exceptions for “out there” type foods (I won’t eat anything still living!) and lima beans, bring it on, Baby! Yeah, this wasn’t the greatest philosophy for my health. Now, to maintain my recovery from my addiction, I precisely weigh or measure individual food items that I eat so I have to make almost everything from scratch. And sugar is absolutely out of the question (did you know that Green Giant actually adds sugar to its canned corn? I am not kidding.) Luckily, since I’m the family chef and I like to make things from scratch, I’m covered.

Eiledon K. Moir, age 10. Your typical, picky eater, Eiledon will not consume anything without first tasting the tiniest piece of it to within an inch of its existence. Everything puts her off. Taste, texture, aroma, sometimes even the name of a food is enough to elicit complete refusal to consume. She subsists on bread, pasta, cheese, a few fruits and vegetables and some highly processed meats but only very limited varieties of these items. And what she adores one day, she may honestly detest a few days later. With her, every meal is a crapshoot.

Gavin A. F. Moir, age 8. Your not-so-typical picky eater. Actually, Gavin likes a much broader variety of things than his sister. He will gladly eat meat of any kind, and a good number of items from all the food groups. What’s frustrating about him is that the foods he doesn’t like are the only ones Eiledon does. He will not eat macaroni & cheese or pasta of any kind. What kid doesn’t like PASTA for crying out loud?!?!?

Lest you think I fall into the role of a short-order cook, I will tell you that I can and do feed my family a single meal as often as possible. But just as in my childhood when my mother made herself liver and onions and the rest of us pasta (because, well… liver and onions, Mom! Eww) there are times when each individual gets his or her meal a bit tailored. And even when I do serve a single, unified menu to the family, there’s a pretty fair variety of choices on the table. If we’re having spaghetti, there’s sauce and (plain) meatballs, butter and parmesan cheese, and bread all of which can be consumed by anyone in any combination. But EVERYBODY has to eat the vegetable, dammit. Even if it’s for dessert.

Still, there are those nights like tonight when I think, “Heck with it. I’ll just throw in a pizza.” (And then I make a little homemade one for myself and it’s so tasty!) Bon appetit!


  1. While I do hate to get tagged like this, I will cop to it. You know who I am if nothing else. I still maintain that I would never eat if I didn't have to... (By the way, I actually DO like broccoli SO THERE!!!!).

  2. Rebekah, I think serving all of the compliments of a meal individually and letting each member dress them to his/her preference is fine! (I.e., your spaghetti example.) My mom's rule was we could either eat the main meal she prepared, or we could have a peanut butter sandwich, or we could gi hungry. Those were our only options. OCCASIONALLY I would opt for the peanut butter; but mostly, I learned to adapt. :)


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