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!