Feeding picky eaters

Just found this story about trying to feed vegetables to Rio. I sure sound hysterical. I actually write so many articles, I forget about some of them. Listening to Meri recall how she made an "Under the Sea" meal for her daughter made me think of this one. Her Under the Sea meal includes cutting slits into weiners so the ends curl up like an octopus (it's a Japanese standard called tako-san weiner), she cuts carrot slices as seaweed? and have WHOLEWHEAT goldfish crackers swimming about. I loved the way she emphasized the wholewheat to ensure it's healthy. I am totally into buying frozen WHOLEWHEAT waffles, WHOLEWHEAT English muffins, etc. Parents will sell their souls to put something healthy into the bodies of picky eating children...

http://search.japantimes.co.jp/cgi-bin/fl20010615a1.html

FOOD FOR THOUGHT - Growing up Rican

Map of Puerto Rico - all following ©unknown.. I got them from Google.com

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I'm first generation "American". I was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. My parents from Puerto Rico (Mom from the Mayagüez area (West of the Island) and Dad from Juncos (East side of the Island (just east of Caguas on the map). I went to school in Caguas (11th grade) during my parents divorce back in the late 1980's. Although I grew up here.. I was still firmly entrenched in the Puerto Rican culture. For all intents and purposes I thought I grew up "normal American". It's only after years of comparison with other people who grew up in this country did I realize how different I grew up. Everything from what I listened to in music, to ate every day for food. Even our living arrangements were strange. I've moved 22 times in my life.. not too far but still moved a lot. During those times it was with 3 generations living at home. My Mom's Mom (whom we always call Mamá - maternal grandmothers are giving that name while paternal grandmother's are given "Abuela" - which literally means "grandmother") lived with us during the late spring - early Fall every year. It was during the colder months where she'd run back to my other Aunt's house in Puerto Rico since she just could not tolerate the winter months anymore. During those times she lived with us she shaped a lot of what I know today as my "style" of cooking.

A painting on the side of a building "HERE we sell PORK 100% from the "country" or to say homegrown or even "island bred". And yes they mean the WHOLE pork on a spit..

My Grandmom raised my sisters and I VERY different from my Mom. Without going into extreme detail she changed how she viewed children in the kitchen. In Puerto Rico you have only one person in the kitchen (unless it's a large holiday gathering and you need the manpower to create so many meals).. Unless you wanted to get hacked by a machete.. you did not go into the woman's realm... Unfortunately, Mom didn't get the benefit of learning from her Mom how to cook and since she was on her own very early in her life she had to learn almost painfully. If ya know me by now.. I'm inquisitive.. well I was just like that as a kid. Half the time I swear Mamá was just keeping me in the kitchen just so I won't get in trouble outside beating up kids.. From there I learned a lot about Puerto Rican Cuisine and Spanish Cuisine (Mamá is Spaniard). She was the mother of all inventions. We grew up dirt poor and had to improvise a LOT to get food on the table. I learned how to improvise with 3 things in the pantry LOL. As any good Puerto Rican family though.. we always had rice. And.. even though we lived in the inner city.. we always had some sort of garden. Lord help us if we couldn't get sofrito done.. the world would end..

Long live mangoes.. food of the Gods I swear... Fruit is a huge part of our diet

My oldest sister also had a very large role in my life when it came to not only cooking but even upbringing. Mom always came home late so it was my sisters who raised me during the months Mamá was on the Island. Dad was the disciplinarian.. we didn't exactly get along all that hot. He did however make sure we knew how to cook. You would know a man's wrath if the man doesn't have his rice and beans.. Being by far the youngest (I'm 7 years younger than my oldest sis and 3 1/2 years younger than my middle sis) I benefited not only education wise (my sisters taught me everything they learned in school so I could read and write (in 2 languages) by the age of 3) and taught me how to cook (by the age of 4 on my own). Going back and forth from the US to Puerto Rico (we visited a LOT.. it's sorta a Rican tradition.. even if we didn't have the money... we HAD to go back to the Island.. almost like getting air to breathe long enough to go back to the US and hold our breath).

Pasteles (recipe here).. pain in the nards to make.. usually people do this as a massive Christmas-time project.. imagine 40 people (including kids) making several hundred of these.. mmmmmmm I love them.

Food in Puerto Rico is a form of social networking. People practically judge how good of a host you are by the amount of food you serve... and trust me we are not talking about chips and salsa and a glass of water.. we are talking about full course meals. Not hungry? THEY DON'T CARE! Anyway.. food holidays.. nothing and I mean absolutely nothing beats the Christmas Holidays. We don't even celebrate Thanksgiving.. that's a speed bump to Christmas. The first time I ate a "Thanksgiving turkey" was over a "white person's house" when I was a teenager. I didn't even know what Roasted turkey tasted like until I had that meal (and I thought I died and went to heaven.. though I admit.. I hate cranberry sauce..). What is common in Puerto Rico from about Thanksgiving all the way to Three Kings Day is something called Parrandas. Unlike what the wiki says.. it's an all out excuse for partying in the wee hours of the morning with neighbors. How it works is that a group of people carrying musical instruments go to a house (not designated.. they decide that night) and camp out in front of that house singing songs that kinda go "WAKE UP AND MAKE ME FOOD" and in return they will serenade you. If you did this in the USA.. you'd be promptly shot and the Police called for disruption of the peace.. most of this stuff starts around 10PM and can go on to 4-5 AM (depending on how many people fell asleep from the liquor and over eating)...

Minus the beans I'd totally go for this.. (L-R), Pastelillos (IMO doughier than an empanada), Rice and Beans (red kidney beans), tossed salad and .. I think that's stuffed peppers of some kind. Definitely a meat mixture on something..

Cooking during the holidays was a lot of work. Between all the unexpected guests (the idea of R.S.V.P. is so foreign to them.. knocking on your door is R.S.V.P. to them.. seriously..) and the expected parranda drop in .. many people on the Island did most of their cooking in advance. Doing Pasteles was a big chore so when people came over the head women in the household would take advantage and put EVERYONE to work. Make the men go out and climb trees to get the banana leaves and have the kids grind the plantains for the base of the patty. Everyone else was dicing ingredients or cooking the mixture or finding someplace to assemble the whole friggin' thing.

Couldn't find a wiki thing for this.. but it's meat stuffed ripened plaintains (platanos madúros).. mmmm...

Baking was always left to the professionals. I don't ever remember anyone outright using an oven for cooking (usually it was storage for all the pots you couldn't find a spot for earlier..).. There were the panaderías (bread bakeries) and the pastelerías (pastry bakeries). Each had their own clientele but man EVERYONE used a panadería. Funny story.. whenever anyone who now lives in the USA goes "home" we all go from the airport to some bakery.. for bread.. a whole friggin' loaf of bread. It reminds us of French Bread but a whoooooooooole lot better. My Aunt (Dad's sister - the one I lived with) finally had enough of the mystery and in exasperation asked "wtf is up with the bread you friggin' Yankees.. you don't HAVE bread in your country???".. (obviously paraphrased :p ) and we'd all go "nope not like this".. we finally figured out. it's a different yeast.. the outside is this really thin crunchy coat and the inside is so soft it melts in your mouth.. Dad would just haul out and get a loaf for him and me with just a little bit if melted butter in it. We'd eat it in the car from the airport :) My uncle always got a loaf of bread daily from the bakery.. when I lived there.. they had to get 2 loaves.. I was quite the hog.. what did I use it for? SANGUICHES....

THIS is a sanguich.. a wha??? Sandwich.. yep.. Friggin' ricans have to americanize words.. this I think is a simple ham and cheese sanguich (check out the bread.. THAT is the loaf I'm talking about..) I made sandwiches of everything if I could.. still do..

Religion also has a funny way of getting into food :p I grew up evangelical Christian but when I lived with my Aunt she was Roman Catholic. They had fundraisers for everything and I swear everything was always a food sale. No one did bake sales.. they did food. One of the things they sold were Pastelillos.. I've mentioned them before.. but they are to die for.. Empanadas are altogether different.. the picture below is an actual Pastelillo..

I haven't had a REAL pastelillo of these in about.. hmm.. 15 years? Oh I miss these so...

When I did fundraising events in this country I'd laugh because I'd inevitably run into another Rican and we'd smile.. both going "we'd make a killing if we can make this into a bacalaito (fritters made with codfish pieces) sale" LMAO THAT was a typical cheap dish to make and sell for fundraisers on the island. Fish in general is big in Puerto Rico.. after all it's an island only 100 miles by 30 miles.. that's a lot of coastline..

Parting dish.. I .. love. Tostones......

All in all despite my unhappy childhood I do cherish a LOT of wonderful memories when it comes to food. Food done right or with a group of family members all chatting is like comfort to me. These days living alone while hubby works I think of what I can do to relive those moments. Even here some of my happy moments are cooking with hubby. He's a fantastic cook and I learn a lot from him. Lately I've been finding more and more recipes that remind me of my upbringing. Being a good husband he eats everything :) I like that.

Soup for thought

(Abalones, especially dried abalones are a Chinese delicacy. Its essences provide a rich flavor. This shellfish must be cooked for a long time before it reaches a firm, chewy texture some find addictive.)

Groan, groan. snicker, snicker. "A food blog!" goes someone's husband with the initials DR. Yes and no. I prefer thinking of this as a virtual communal kitchen where people can cook and learn from each other, support each other through special diets, encouraging each other to eat healthier foods. For some people (myself included) accomplishment is simply take the time to cook a meal when it is so much easier to just zap one. "When I make something, it always tastes so good," my daughter said one day when she cooked for us.

My father instilled in his family a love of good food. Although his family business in Hong Kong was construction and he studied civil engineering, when he decided to emigrate to Canada, he trained with the top dim sum chef at the Miramar Hotel. It was common knowledge that for a Chinese to make a living abroad, cooking was your only meal ticket. Indeed, Jackie Chan once considered being a cook in Australia before making it big. My father could carve carrots into exquisite phoenix.

Cooking was my father's expression of love. Director Ang Lee's second critically acclaimed film (after The Wedding Banquet) was Eat, Drink, Man, Woman. I saw the film in Tokyo and encouraged my father to watch it and upon doing so, he triumphantly declared, "That's me in that movie." In wikipedia, it is summarized as: "Since the family members have difficulty expressing their love for one another, the intricate preparation of banquet quality dishes for their Sunday dinners serves as a surrogate for the spoken expression of their familial feelings."

The one meal my father made that I will never forget was the one before my sister's wedding. His brothers from Hong Kong and Los Angeles were there. My husband and I am were there. And so rarely was everyone he loved at the same place, so he pour his heart into preparation.

I still remember standing over the sink scrubbing the abalones with brand new toothbrushes he bought specifically for this occasion. He had watched over the soup from the day before, the stock made of one whole chicken (not just bones thank you) and two lean pork tenderloins. Then the abalones, then the shark's fin on the morning it was served. He wagered each serving was about $50 in cost alone. He made 12 bowls for only his side of the family. There were sauteed greens and creamy garlic lobster, but never have I tasted such wonderful soup and never will I do so.

My father loved making soups and eventually I did too. Soups are the most miraculous of dishes. When you throw in the meats, the vegetables and the seasoning, there is absolutely no taste in the beginning. But as you wait, the simmering draws out the best in all the ingredients. You wait some more, and it becomes tastier and the more you wait, the more flavor you get back. It can be just bone scraps and wrinkles veggies, yet with time, you have created the most marvelous concoction. I am not a patient person by nature, but making soups made me realize the importance of just giving things time. In raising my children, I often remind myself about the miracle of making soups.

My father has now passed away and while he has left a legacy of appreciation for good eats, his love of cooking has not quite passed onto his children, none of us really enjoy cooking the way he did.

In popular culture like Ang Lee's movies and the exquisite Like Water for Chocolate, cooking has been elevated to a higher realm, yet we all know that the daily chore of it can be most tedious and unrewarding. My husband and my children are expressive and loving everywhere else except at the dining table. Picky eaters all of them, each with a set of distinct dislikes. But right now something in me is trying to reach out to them through more homemade dishes. To get everyone on the same plate. To get everyone to expand their palates. To get everyone taking turns and appreciating each other's efforts. As my kids get older, I sense that doing this will keep our family closer.

In the 1970s, my mother's friend and a popular Japanese writer published a trendsetting book called "The Good Cook is a Wise Woman." At a time when more women began entering the workforce, Yoko Kirishima argued that a housewife who cooks well is creative, expressive, has wonderful fine motor skills, has a good sense of economics by budgetting well, knowledge about nutrition, etc. But no need to elaborate because I think we all here know that already! Bon appetit. And see you in the kitchen!