Reprogramming

I read Katie’s post about having to re-teach some of the lessons her son is learning at school with particular interest, because I am also running into this, and having to do some reprogramming at home, something that is frustrating me to no end.

My childrens’ school is a K-8, and this year they won a grant to provide nutritional training as part of the curriculum. In theory, I support this, because I think America is a country that is so disconnected from food at this point that nobody even remembers what food that doesn’t have high-fructose corn syrup in it tastes like, and where it is easier and cheaper to eat crap than it is to eat healthy. But – in reality, I am so frustrated with the worksheets that my kids bring home every other day from this new program.

For the little ones, the emphasis is on ‘go foods’ and whoa foods’, a nice, simple little dumbing-down of eating strategy. There is no in-between, early on in the program – just foods that are ‘good’, and foods that are ‘bad’. Right away, this got me frustrated. Why are we training children to assign a moral state to food? Is the goal to create a nation of emotional eaters? I guess so!

But my biggest irritation is the idea that foods are just a simple yes/no decision. Whoa foods? You aren’t supposed to ever eat them. I already have very picky eaters, and for kids like mine, whose nutritional needs were unable to be met appropriately both prior to birth and afterward, all this program does is teach my children that everything I am teaching them, about intuitive eating, about grazing, about making informed choices based on personal needs, is wrong. Instead, many really good foods end up as Whoa foods, and many terrible foods are identified as Go foods, for very arbitrary reasons.  And, this program assumes that every child is struggling with their weight, or will be, and that that struggle will be that they will be too heavy, not too thin, and that their nutritional training should be akin to dieting choices, and that limiting fat intake is the most important strategy.

Unfortunately, it isn’t our strategy. My kids still drink full-fat milk, and eat full-fat and 2% cheese, partly because really good cheese doesn’t come in skim, and I want them to enjoy the buttery nuttiness of a good Havarti, the cream in Brie. I want them to eat real cheese, not processed skim milk cheese product. I want them to eat all the food – all of it – birthday cake, broccoli, warm whole-wheat bread, rich pasta sauce, the flavourful joy of a strawberry and spinach salad, and the flavourful joy of strawberry shortcake. We don’t make moral decisions about food, in this house. Instead, we group food into always, and sometimes. Always foods are all white milks and all non-processed cheese, any yoghurt in the house, all the fruits and veggies, nuts, whole wheat bread, peanut butter, eggs, enriched pastas, wild rice, any kind of meat or fish we can trick them into eating, and whole-grain crackers without high fructose corn syrup. Basically, all unprocessed foods, and some slightly processed but reasonably healthy foods, and peanut butter because my kids don’t get enough fat or protein in their diet.And because this list is the vast majority of what I serve my kids, they like it.

Sometimes foods are … everything else. Sometimes foods, and almost never foods. Birthday cake, doughnuts, chips, juice, etc. The good stuff. The stuff you want to eat, but don’t need to eat. Sometimes a cookie is just a good idea. Sometimes six cookies are a better one. Sometimes it is okay to have a slice of cake, some juice, or to fire up the fondue pot and get lost in some crusty french bread and hot Gruyére. You wouldn’t do it every day, or even every week. You wouldn’t want to. But no food is off-limits, morally bankrupt, or a guilty pleasure, if you have learned in advance that it is okay to eat things that aren’t super-healthy for you, as long as the vast majority of your diet is based in healthier choice-making. Nothing is a ‘no’ food. Instead, we recognize indulgence has its place, too, in life.

My kids are obsessed with pointing out ‘whoa’ foods, now, taught to do so at school. My diet coke? Whoa! Most cheese? Whoa!  Every cereal box in the cereal aisle, including the super-sugary ones? Go! No delineation of categories, at all. All bread is a Go food – white flour rolls, whole wheat toast, all the same thing. All juice is bad, and now my children feel badly when they ask for it. The last thing on earth I wanted my kids to have was a complex about food, or feelings of guilt about what they consume. Thanks so much, ‘nutrition curriculum’, for reinforcing disordered eating idealization on my 4 year olds. And thanks for doing so in a school where snacks are served every day, processed food, high fructose corn syrup snacks. My kids learned what Doritos were at  school, and Cheetos. So, thanks for that, too.

Work Life Balance is the Punchline to the Joke that is Parenting

I promised my daughter I would make cupcakes today for her, in honour of Valentine’s day. And as you can see, I did. I made them go from the bakery aisle to my cart, then I made money fly out of my wallet, and then I made these come home with me. She was cool with it – she just wanted cupcakes, and they weren’t some metaphorical representation of my motherly love for her. She just likes cake. So do I.

We handmade the valentines for her class (and they are so cute! I will take pictures tomorrow!), and I made some amazing homemade macaroni and cheese for dinner, but I have given up on the fantasy of being some kind of Ur-Mommy who does it all, without stress, and always perfectly. But oh, it is hard to give up that fantasy, sometimes, to not feel like a bit of a failure when there is store-bought cake. The act of parenting? It isn’t hard. It is all the other stuff swirling around parenting that is hard. Like my Pinterest full of super-housewives, who all did loving kitchen crafts with their little ones this week.

I think I am giving up Mommy-guilt for lent. For real. I refuse to feel guilty about any of the choices I make as a parent. Wish me luck.

Gingerbread

Tomorrow is the last day of school before the winter break, and the last day of dance class. So today and tonight, I am in a flurry of baking, getting holiday presents, cards, and cookies together for the people who care for my girls when I am sitting at home drinking diet Coke and playing Civ V for hours at a time. I mean, when I am writing my dissertation. ahem.

This year, everyone gets Gingerbread. It is my thing. Here is my recipe: it can be your thing, too.

Perfect Gingerbread

3 1/4 cups sifted all-purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter (room temperature, softened)
1/2 cup dark-brown sugar, packed
2 teaspoons ground ginger
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoons ground cloves *optional – I usually up the cinnamon a bit and skip this
scant 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon finely ground black pepper * I go less than this, personally
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 large egg
1/2 cup unsulfured molasses

Instructions:

1. In a large bowl, sift together flour, baking soda, and spices. Adding a little extra flour makes these cookies very soft. Set this bowl aside.

2 According to the official recipe, in electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter – I do my mixing by hand, because I am a martyr. Add sugar and beat until fluffy.

3. Mix in eggs and molasses.

4. Gradually add the flour mixture; combine on low speed, or if you are mixing by hand, stir at slow speed – not that you would be able to stir this fast – this is a serious workout. (You may need to work it with your hands to incorporate the last bit of flour, if you are using a Kitchenaid, like a normal person.)

5.Divide dough in thirds; shape the thirds into flat bricks and wrap each third in plastic. When you are done, your fridge will look like it is filled with bricks of heroin. Feel badass.

6. Chill for at least 1 hour-2 hours. Before rolling out, let sit at room temperature for a few minutes. If after refrigerating the dough feels too soft to roll-out, work in a little more flour.

7. If you like a little flavour in your gingerbread, try rubbing your cutting board or rolling pins or hands with a very, very small bit of flavouring – chocolate liquers are nice, as are cointreau or straight orange flavouring. Blood orange would be nice, too, especially on the ones dipped in chocolate.

8 Heat oven to 350°. I have a large wooden board that I use to roll my cookies out on, which I cover with flour – a cutting board would work well too. Using a rolling pin, roll dough – not too thin – I usually do mine about half a centimetre or more. Use a cookie cutter to cut into desired shapes.

9. Transfer to baking sheets – I line mine with parchment paper and bake the cookies on that, to keep the bottoms from hardening and going dark. Bake about 6-8 minutes, until cookies are still soft. Remove from oven and let the cookies sit on the cookie sheet on top of the oven for a few minutes more to set. Move to a wire rack to cool completely.

I like my gingerbread soft. How do you make cookies soft? Easy: cut them thick, underbake slightly, and let them finish baking on top of the stove while they set on the cookie sheet. if you like them crispier, bake 8-10 minutes, until the edges start to brown.

Royal Icing

Makes 2 1/3 cups

1 one-pound box (about 4 cups) confectioners’ sugar
5 tablespoons meringue powder,**
1/2 cup water

1. with a hand mixer, combine confectioners’ sugar and meringue powder. Mixing on low speed, add a scant 1/2 cup water drop by drop. For a thinner consistency, usually used for flooding, add more water. A thicker consistency is generally used for further embellishing. Mix until icing holds a ribbon-like trail on the surface for five seconds when you raise the paddle.

** some people make icing with egg whites, but there are a lot of people (the pregnant, immune-compromised, etc) who cannot eat raw eggs, so in the interest of not asking random acquaintances about the current contents of their uterus, I opt for meringue powder.

I am old-fashioned – I pipe my royal icing on using an icing bag. Decorate as you see fit – sprinkles, etc. I usually do one round of icing in one colour, to cover the cookie, then after that hardens, take while icing and pipe pretty patterns on top. So cute. That is how the reindeer and snowman, above, were done.

Chocolate Dipped.
I cut some of my cookies using holly leaf and Star of David cookie cutters, and dip half into chocolate. It is heaven.

Recipe: Melt chocolate – use the almond bark baking chocolate for super easiness. Dip cookies. Let them set for a few hours on parchment paper. Eat. This one is pretty easy.

P(i)TA

I can’t say I am the most involved parent in my kids’ classroom. I am not a room mom, and our school doesn’t have parent volunteers come in during the week to read or do crafts, but when we get requests for help for the holiday parties, we always say yes. For Hallowe’en, I sent in healthy snacks – little mandarin orange fruit cups with jack-o-lantern faces markered on them (Thank you, Pinterest!), and when I got the volunteer form for the classroom Xmas party, sent the form back saying I would make gingerbread.

This is what I do.

Gingerbread is my thing. Everyone has a talent or two in life, and mine is baking, and specifically, mine is gingerbread. It is good. That is a picture of a quick tray I made, above, and later this week, I will post the recipe and how-to, if you would like to make it yourself.  I do fancy icing, with lovely snowmen and reindeer, and tone-on-tone layers, and some of it I dip in chocolate, and it is heaven. People ask me to do it professionally all the time (no!), and once, I did a tray for a party and a guest stole half the cookies – just unloaded them into a ziploc in her purse – because “they were so pretty”. So, I have this talent, and I can only share it for about one month a year, and even though it is crazy labour-intensive, I am happy to do it for the school.

So, cut to last night, when the official ‘room mom’ called me. The school really wants healthy snacks for the party, she says. Like, maybe one sweet, but the other stuff should all be healthy. And then there is this deadly silence.Since I know this is her first year at the school, and since this is my second year in this classroom with this teacher, I tell her that, although yes,they do ask that, typically, the holiday party is a little over the top, and whoever does the food table at the kids’ party limits them a bit, and then all the rest goes to the Faculty Lounge as God intended, for the teachers to enjoy at their leisure after the kids leave for the day.

This is also met with a weird pause, and since I am a real grown-up, and I certainly am not going to pick this particular hill to die on, I fill the odd conversational void to say that I am happy to bring something else – whatever she thinks best. What do you need to round out the snacks, I ask? I am happy to provide whatever you want. Just tell me. And then it starts. Oh, no, she says. You can bring gingerbread. I was just calling to check. And I want to ask, check what, exactly? But I do not, because I (usually!) know the difference between the conversations you wish you could have, and the conversations you can actually have.

But now I am confused. If she isn’t asking me to change what I am bringing, and if I offered to change it in case she is too polite to just come right out and say it, then … what is the point of this phone call? I felt like maybe there was some sort of subtext that I was missing, some kind of secret mom code that I lost the manual for. If I said I was bringing gingerbread, and she agreed that was okay, then why call at all?

So, I am making gingerbread. And I might be in trouble for making it, but also, nobody is asking me not to, and when I volunteered not to, I was told it was okay to make it. My kids are in Preschool, so I don’t have years of PTA political experience to draw from. And I am not from the south, where everyone innately knows that every social interaction is steeped in unspoken social code. Can anyone translate what just happened to me, here?

 

Pinteresting

I confess: I am a Pinterest addict. It feeds my simultaneous needs to feel very organized, accomplish domestic transcendence, and waste tremendous amounts of time better spent working. Right now,  I am pinning food recipes, because suddenly it feels like I never know what to make for dinner. Tonight I did this: Chicken Costelleta.

Next time, I would skip the Dijon Mustard entirely, and add capers, but overall, very nice. Except I burned the chicken a bit, frying it, because I am a Northerner, and I need a nice Southern friend to teach me how frying works. But overall, a keeper. I made it with glazed carrots, and some couscous, and one child actually ate 5 bites of it, so … success!

Thanks to Pinterest, I have learned that American Cuisine is primarily based on a trifecta of canned vegetables, cream of ‘something’ soup, and crushed saltine crackers, so imagine my excitment when I found this beauty of a recipe: Chicken Pillows.

Obviously, I made it right away, because – pillows. Of chicken? With a sauce made of cream of chicken soup? And a crust made of saltines? And the whole thing is wrapped in canned crescent roll dough?

True confession time: even though I made these in a strictly ironic way, it turns out that I kind of liked the way these tasted. Because they are chicken, cheese, fat, and fat, and they taste nostalgic, like maybe a 50′s housewife invented the recipe and won a ribbon for it, at a county fair. I would never make them again, because I like what I feed my family to be more real food, and less a recipe designed soley to help market processed foods,  but I had to make them just once, the same  way my husband once had to order a hamburger for which the bun was actually made up of two grilled cheese sandwiches.

After he ordered it, I turned him to him and said, Honey, you don’t have to have a heart attack and die to get out of this marriage. We could just get divorced. You don’t have to be so dramatic about it.  And he laughed, but seriously, that is a fatty hamburger, placed between two grilled cheese sandwiches, and smothered with a giant slab of another kind of cheese, and bacon. With french fries. So, I had to ask, right? Because that is a heart attack on a plate.

Also, I had one bite, and it was delicious. But I could never have taken a second bite. But I understand why he had to order it. Once you see the option, and you understand how gloriously wrong that option is, how bad it is for you, how outside the realm of responsible action it is, isn’t it human nature to have to try that option? Isn’t that why perfectly nice women all over the country lust after Daryl Dixon, and read 50 Shades of Grey?

 

Arnold Palmer Jello Shots

That might be the nicest 4 words strung together that I have ever heard.

Recipe here.