How to cook. How to cook. How to cook for little ones who may not like my cooking . . .
Part of me felt like the character in No Reservations played by Catherine Zeta Jones, who was accustomed to satisfying finicky eaters by scrounging for ever more obscure ingredients, and faced with the dilemma of feeding a small child who did not feel like eating at all.
And part of me felt like just doing my thing and if there was a problem, they would eat once they got hungry. That part of me won out.
The children had expressed curiosity when we were shopping. I selected mushrooms, and they had not ever noticed raw ones before so asked what they were. When I told them, they made faces.
My turn.
For supper, I fixed the best marinara I could imagine and used some of those mushrooms, sliced and sautéed in olive oil, along with a large clove of wild garlic from our field, also sliced. We still have tiny onions left from our overheated garden, and I included a few of them, sliced. As all these paper-thin slices were beginning to brown, I added small chunks of a bell pepper a friend had brought me, along with one of her jalapenos, whole.
While some of the oil in the pan was still available, I tossed in freshly-crushed basil and oregano, and stripped a few leaves off a fresh stem of rosemary. All was sizzling along nicely when I remembered the soup base. I actually made soup base this year, which is merely whole tomatoes, washed and cored, and tossed into a blender, skins, seeds, and all, to be liquefied for a thicker sauce than we can obtain from just juice. I prefer the muskier taste the seeds lend and the redder coloring the skins contribute. It is the only way I will deal with only a gallon of tomatoes. Cleaning out my Victorio tomato strainer just kills me, if it’s for only a few quarts of juice.
Once the fresh rosemary had softened a bit, I tossed in a quart of the soup base. It sizzled just a bit, as it landed in the pan. Perfect. Since one of us cannot eat many foods without some Worcestershire sauce, I dolloped some of that in, too. And a bit of catsup for sweetening.
I slowly brought it to a boil.
Lastly, I added a whole bag of Great Value frozen 5-cheese ravioli. Yep. You may cringe at that, but I have read labels, and it has nothing in it but foodstuffs, all pronounceable. Probably not very organic, though.
Once it returned to simmering, I turned down the heat and covered it. Then I prepared a small lettuce, tomato, and carrot salad. The children had been impressed that the grape tomatoes I had bought had come “all the way from MISSOURI!” That seemed so exotic to them. I figured they’d at least eat the tomatoes.
After all was dished out and cut to bite-size, the littlest one sampled the ravioli and looked up at me so sweetly to comment:
“It tastes just like b’sketti.”
Kudos to the cook, I suppose.
Home's Cool! 
Where I come from, it has ALWAYS been “kudos to the cook”! Sounds delish, Mom…
You are sweet to think it and to say so, publicly. I always tried, but lately have this compulsion to add browned mushrooms to many dishes. And browned garlic. Was a little worried about the reaction, after the frownies I got when shopping, but I guess chef-boy-R-D knew what he was doing?
Your sauce sounds fabulous. We don’t have kids, but imagine my wife’s reaction when our niece spit out her risotto on top of a plate of risotto. I kind of shrugged my shoulders. What else can you do!
I DON’T KNOW!
Your poor wife! What IS it with kids and risotto, anyway?
We taught our kids to eat one decent bite of everything before getting seconds on anything. And if they fussed about the one bite, they got two bites, etc. Simple trick based on starvation which makes the kids think the parents are smarter than they are. Still, some of them did not prefer rice. But never said much at the table. One bite. Over with. On to the rest of the food!
The results were that when we were guests around unacustomed food, they knew what to do: take one bite. So simple. So polite. They watched my reaction to chitterlings, once. I am sorry to say I did take the one obligatory bite, since they were watching. Oh, the costs of parenthood!
But when you are not the parents . . . hmm. I guess just grin and bear it.
Maybe you could suggest a better place to spit, though, for future referrence. Etiquette requires using the napkin, or using the spoon, aside.
I think we are having good ol’ salmon patties, you know, with bones and soda crackers inside and all, for supper tonight. Not all my participants will be elated. But all will eat some. The cook rules! 🙂
I should probably note I made the risotto, but my wife didn’t like the idea of it going to waste. I don’t make risotto too often! Our niece was only 2 or so at the time. And yep, when you’re not a parent, you let the parents figure that all out. And serve smaller portions!
Yep!
Wow! I’ve missed out on a lot from you! I haven’t written in WEEKS. Craziness. This sounds divine. So glad you shared!
Hello, FLM!
I’ve missed hearing from you and was wondering what happened! Craziness here, too, the fun kind, with my tiny visitors! 🙂
Thanks for the compliment, and welcome back!
basketti—delicious recipe—and, as my cousin used to say “it looks like a mazagine pitcher”!
Kate, how long has it been since you commented here?! Somehow, some of your comments never arrive in my inbox. SO sorry! 😐