“I can’t eat that.” Son #1 stared at his plate, outright defiant. “But it’s an ancient grain grown 12,000 feet above sea level!” I explained, relishing every bite of the quinoa with grilled zucchini, red peppers, garbanzo beans and cumin.
“No. You keep making all these meals from other places. South Korea, Antarctica, the Andes.” Not really. So we had Thai-style red curry tempeh on Meatless Monday. Not really so exotic. The issue is we have been migrating slowly into the zone of non-compliance, a simmering revolt against the healthy meals I’ve been concocting ever since last summer’s over-the-top feasting while traveling.
“If you keep this up, I’ll have to change the name of the blog to DishesMostMenLike,” I warned. “And besides, you eat non-traditional foods all the time. What about last weekend’s roasted rutabagas?” Son #1 acquiesced. “Those were good because they were, well, basic. This stuff is just weird,” he grimaced at the mash-up on his plate. “Well, you liked the turkey and feta meatloaf last night,” I persisted. “Yeah, that’s because it was an adaptation of a conventional food. This isn’t!” Son #2 chimed in: “I’m eating it. I don’t really like it, but I’m eating it.”
He was still feeling pretty smart from his trick the previous night, coming to dinner table blind-folded so he could “focus on my taste buds. I’ll enjoy my food more if I don’t have to look at it.” It was strange, sure, but he cleaned his plate. Turkey meatloaf with feta and sun-dried tomatoes, compliments of Giada De Laurentiis. Steamed brussels sprouts and parslied potatoes. Maybe I should blindfold Son #1 tomorrow night?