A Small Breakthrough...

After the two day cook-a-thon of the prior mentioned ham, I gave up on the extravagant side of experimental meals for a while. Hours upon hours I cooked that goddamn ham; basting it, roasting it, loving it. It was inedible in the end. I’m not entirely convinced that I am an awful cook (no matter what my child would have you believe) but even I couldn’t force myself to eat the sickly sweet horror of that ham. Offspring’s reaction to it was determined when he mouthed the words that no child has ever mouthed before, “I can’t eat that. It’s way too sweet.” The root vegetable Bubble and Squeak was also a disgusting disappointment. Don’t believe a recipe that tells you to mash up many coloured veg’ then fry it like it was an egg, even if it does have four star reviews beside it. It just doesn’t work.

That recipe cost me a fortune at a time when I had very little money, and being heavily disappointed with the amount of food I had to throw out afterwards (and the chore of cleaning melted marmalade and honey from every surface the kitchen has), I found myself falling back into a play-it-safe routine of spaghetti bolognese and potato based freezer products. However, last night there was a small breakthrough in the norm…I constructed a meal off the top of my head that offspring had never tried before, and a miracle occurred: he actually liked it. (Mostly).

Chicken breasts. A standard and boring product of the British diet, yes, but fairly versatile when it comes to recipes. However when it comes to the pallette of children, chicken versatility doesn’t extend very far. I might have had a small mental break at the prospect of another chicken curry from a jar or another ‘Fail-Safe Fajita’ (see previous entry), so I decided that I was going to do something even if just a little different and offspring was going to try it. Automatically, hell on earth began.

“I will not eat anything that I have never tried before! I won’t DO it, mummy! In fact, I won’t eat anything at all for tea! Unless it’s ice cream...”

I ignored the small voice of attitude shouting through from the living room as he rolled around the floor in his pants, making demands like his opinion actually mattered to me. I searched the fridge and cupboards and chopped up everything I could find; chicken breasts, peppers, red onions, carrots, tomatoes, potatoes and lemons. I chucked them all in a roasting tin, drizzled them with olive oil, seasoned them with oregano and threw on some sprigs of thyme. I roasted them for a while, then I bathed them in chicken stock and roasted them further. Easy, safe, not too out there. Yet every time the oven opened, the head of the Attitude Child appeared round the door in order to remind me that he wouldn't be eating any of this and just reiterating how little he thought of me for cooking such atrocity.

I served it up with garlic bread which was also a risk, believe it or not. About a year ago, offspring had broken off his happy relationship with garlic bread for reasons only he knew, but the other day he had stopped, mesmerized, to stare at some garlic bread in a Tesco fridge window that was in a different shape from the usual baguette that we normally buy, in that, it was being sold in slices. This amazed him and he swore that he was going to eat this new mind-shattering style of garlic bread.

He eyed the roasted chicken and vegetable dish suspiciously when it was served as he nibbled on his (re-established favourite food of) garlic bread, but then he slowly picked up some chicken and licked it. When that didn’t melt his tongue or make him vomit across the table, he started eating it. Then he moved onto the peppers. Then the tomatoes. The carrots got spat straight back out onto the plate, I didn’t even bother giving him red onions, and he continued his hatred of any potato that isn’t made by his father, but eventually everything else was cleared off his plate. “That was so yummy. Oh my gosh, that was actually really yummy,” he announced in (quite frankly, annoying) surprise. The next night he actively asked for the same tea again, of which I was happy to oblige considering the amount of leftovers, and now I am motivated again to try a few more meals! Hallelujah!

Things added to offspring’s likes: roasted vegetables, garlic bread that is sliced.

Things added to offspring’s dislikes: roasted carrots, potatoes not made by his father, any other kind of garlic bread

The Gammon Mission

As predicted, the haggis was a disaster. Hanging him upside down, blindfolding myself and throwing handfuls of the stuff in his direction probably would have achieved better results in getting him to try some (it would have been a lot more fun, too. There’s only so much begging and bribing a mum can do in one day.) The mashed turnip was somewhat a success, but he did develop a new-found dislike for mashed potatoes which he has enjoyed eating for, say, three out of the four years that he’s been alive. So, today I am attempting a brand spanking new recipe. Well, preparation actually began last night in the aftermath of the bedtime battles, and the obligatory hot water bottle/night-light tantrum. So, technically it’s resulted in a two day cook-a-thon.

Honey and Orange Glazed Gammon Joint, with Sweet Potato Bubble and Squeak.

In theory, this recipe should be healthy and appealing to a child. Note: “in theory”. It has a good level of sweetness to the ham which should entice children (it’s made with honey and marmalade, small person, that’s all *kinds* of awesome to you) and the bubble and squeak has six kinds of vegetables boiled up and mashed together. Not to mention, it’s called ‘bubble and squeak’...they can’t not find that name fun...can they?

Nigella Lawson claims the best way to cook ham is by boiling it in a bottle of Coca-Cola. I've never tried ham after it’s been soaked in a pot of processed sugar, but after making the hideous mistake of giving my child some fizzy juice as a ‘treat’ over the weekend in town, the concept of such a recipe fills me with fear. Regardless of the science of the effects of cooking something in fizzy juice upon a child, I'm sure you would hesitate at the idea too if you had seen my child’s behaviour after a few sips of Coca-Cola on Sunday. Transformed into a crazed lunatic of energy, he didn't stop to even acknowledge running straight into a person in a wheelchair, a newborn’s buggy, a Claire’s Accessories shop window - before climbing upon a bench, trying to jump over a bin at the end of said bench, falling short, landing in the bin and, too high on sugar to cry at this point, sat stuck in a bin screaming about the injustice of the world until I yanked him out. So no, fizzy juice is currently banned for the time being.

This recipe is probably for someone who has a bit more time than I do, mind you. Currently racing home between University classes in an attempt to boil gammon, roast gammon, simmer gammon, dress gammon, and stuff it full of these little clove things I've never used before...thankfully I got all the vegetables for the bubble and squeak chopped up last night. No easy task when you consider I was chopping up every tough root vegetable known to mankind, with cheap knives from Home Bargains. There was a few frightening moments where I nearly cut my fingers alongside the parsnip, and a chunk of the sweet potato did nearly take my eye out, but I'm currently still alive to tell the tale. And I now have a casserole dish full of colourful, healthy vegetables just waiting to be boiled and mashed tonight. Fingers crossed.

The Fail-safe Fajita

Fajitas. The offspring's Last Supper. A means of lulling him into a false sense of security, food wise. I explained to him that meal times were about to change. From now on we would be trying new recipes, new foods and he would be required to try at least a bite of the food before throwing the obligatory tantrum of disgust. Then I served him up his favourite dish and he glowed with smug delight, thinking this new experiment was going to be a breeze.

Fajitas are a fail-safe for my offspring (although in saying that, nothing is ever guaranteed. In the past, I have watched filled tortilla’s being rolled out across the floor for “fun”, or the end deliberately eaten off so the filling will fall into his lap, invoking raucous laughter and mummy’s annoyance). Apart from a few incidents, generally this is one of the few meals I can get him to eat on a regular basis, and this is fantastic. It is something full of flavour, and healthy veg.

Of course, we all know that the best fajitas come with mountains of different cheeses to choose from; bowls of spiced rice to add; thick chunks of peppers and onions; optional jalapeños, guacamole, salsa and sour cream - and just the right amount of kick. Endless variation. When you’re four, this is less of the case. Food has to be straightforward, consistent and unvarying from the child’s chosen state. I say this from experience. Offspring's fajitas consist of: mildly seasoned chicken, red and yellow peppers, ‘invisible onions’ (cut tiny and spooned onto tortilla at lightning speed), a scraping of salsa, and a few chunks of cucumber. I don’t complain - it’s healthy and filling, but also leaves little point in me cooking rice and buying all the trimmings just for myself. Who knew a fussy four year old would be good for the waistline?

Tonight, two packed fajitas were wolfed down by him, which means I can relax knowing he had a good feed this evening, because…tomorrow is Burns Supper night. Tomorrow he is being fed haggis. My family loves a proper Burn's night, with huge plates of 'haggis, neeps and tatties' all round. I've already spoken to the child about how yummy haggis is, and was told with a mild death glare, “if it doesn't look good, I'm not eating it.” Well, if that’s your only gripe about haggis, son, I’ll continue to keep you ignorant of what it’s made from! I can predict him eating a plate of mashed potatoes tomorrow and nothing else though, shouting at anyone who encourages him to try a bite of haggis, but who know's? Maybe I'll be surprised!

Why Would I do this to Myself?

Mealtimes with a toddler. One of life’s most frustrating obstacles.

Well, if you care for them to eat healthily that is or have a diet that consists of more than just processed meat and potato based products from a freezer. My son is an unsolvable riddle when it comes to mealtimes; one day he’ll eat three servings of one dish and declare it to be his “most favourite food - ever!”, yet the next time this same dish is served to him he’ll act as though he’s having a nightmare and whimper pitifully with tears in his eyes as he pushes the plate across the table. He utterly detests onions - but only if they’re visible in a meal. He won’t even look at guacamole because the word sounds too much like macaroni, which he loathes. He likes cooked carrots, so long as they’re not circular in shape (and don’t even get me started on the shape of pasta). Vegetables are greedily wolfed down and stolen from chopping boards but if they’re mixed together (eg. a stir fry) it’s the end of life as we know it... It is a never ending list of small food gripes that are made up in his head wherever and whenever he fancies it. It’s the frustration of slaving over a cooker for three hours, to place a meal down in front of your child with a proud smile, only to hear the sentence every parent dreads: “I don’t like that, mummy, I won’t eat that”.

A fortnight ago, my son asked every day for an entire week to have ‘mince and tatties’ for his tea. Eventually I bought the ingredients and put them in a slow cooker for four hours but when they were served to my angelic four year old, he responded with “...and what the HECK is THAT supposed to be?”. He didn't eat a bite of the requested meal he has scoffed many, many times before.The same with a curry his dad has made him from scratch often, since he was old enough to eat, which is a carefully practised home-made combination of herbs and spices - and once my son’s favourite dish. Two days ago when this was served to him, he focused on a microscopic piece of coriander, cried and cried into the curry with his nose inches above it, and declared dramatically that he had never liked it and would never eat it again.

So I have decided to create this blog. I am sick of being forced into eating the same bland meals as my fussy child night after night, excluding ingredients that he does actually like just to avoid the hide and seek battle of concealing them within the dish. So I intend to cook some new, fresh ideas for meals that I have not necessarily tried before in a bid to encourage him to try new foods, and consistently change our mealtimes up so he can’t get stuck in a rut, tantruming over the same foods. If anything, it’ll be fun to cook some new, healthy meals - even if I do get them thrown back in my face. Literally.