A RealFamilies RealFun Blog

Jul 22 2008

Eggs or Bread?

Category: Come and Get It

There are two different kinds of breakfast people -- egg people and bread people. Egg people love eggs in all its forms for breakfast -- scrambled, poached, in omelets, fried, and so on. Bread people love pastries, toast, donuts, oatmeal, cereal, breakfast bars, and rolls for the first meal of the day.

Granted there are hybrid people who like a combination of both eggs and bread. They eat egg burritos, eggs Benedict, or a fried egg on their pancakes. My family -- both the one I grew up with and the one I created -- is equally divided between egg people and bread people.

My mom, Nathan, and Paul are egg people. Lucie, my sister, and I are bread people. My dad was a reformed egg person. When I was small he'd have two soft boiled eggs every morning. By the time I was in high school, he switched over to oatmeal, multi-grained toast, and yogurt.

All throughout my childhood, my mother's favorite breakfast was a large cheese omelet. Still, I'll never forget her attempts at eating oatmeal. She thought oatmeal was food for horses, not people. Nevertheless she gave it a try on recommendation from her doctor. Her attempts to disguise the taste and texture -- cream, butter, and sugar -- defeated the purpose of trying to lower her cholesterol, so she quickly gave it up.

Nathan and Paul love their eggs. Nathan's always on some egg food jag or another. For two weeks he ate mashed up hard boiled eggs with salt and pepper for his school lunch. (He'd have his teacher heat it up in the microwave.) Also, he's always begging Paul to make him an egg burrito on the weekends, or for me to cook him up what we call an egg pocket, a folded over fried egg with cheese in the middle.

Paul is a master omelet maker -- crab, fancy cheeses, avocado, shrimp, tomatoes, and mushrooms. Mmmmm...even I'll go over to the egg side occasionally for one of his fabulous creations. But ultimately, I'm a bread person, preferring a bowl of oatmeal or a toasted bagel with cream cheese. Lately, I totally agree with Lucie's breakfast philosophy. When I ask her what she wants for breakfast, she says, "Mama, I want toast with butter and jam. Toast is good. It makes you feel better."

 

Jul 14 2008

Strand by strand

Category: Come and Get It

It was one of those Friday evenings that I hated to leave the house. We had a refrigerator bursting with leftovers, and I wasn't in the mood to eat out. The previous evening Paul and I experienced the most expensive and decadent meal we'd ever had at one of Denver's top restaurants.

Perched above Boulder, we sipped cocktails and gazed over the city below, while our host consulted with the sommelier on the wine selection. Except for a delicious cheese plate, everything I ate came with a sliver of pan seared fois gras. Paul had buffalo Wellington (also with fois gras) and I had sweet meats and raw tuna. (I'm an adventurous eater.) It was a lovely evening among adults, with no kids needing our attention or assistance.

Twelve hours later my hangover was finally gone, and my appetite somewhat reappeared. But if it wasn't for having to go to Office Depot to pick up supplies for a weekend project, I'd be home enjoying some toast and tea. I wasn't up to the challenge of eating a full meal yet.

I arranged for Paul to meet us at a nearby restaurant. He wasn't hungry either after the previous evening's festivities and a lunch time birthday celebration for a coworker. Still the kids had to be fed no matter what or we'd have a mutiny on our hands.

We were seated at a patio table surrounded by young people partying after a long day at work. Paul and I studied the menu for something light, while Nathan and Lucie drank soft drinks and colored. The waitress took our orders, lasagna for Paul (he considered that a light meal for some reason), a salad for me, and a kid's pizza for Nathan. Then it was Lucie's turn to order. Usually, she doesn't eat much when we go out, preferring to pick off my plate or to snack on a side order of French fries. But tonight she surprised us. When read the kid's meal choices to her, she chose spaghetti AND a meatball. I was convinced that we'd end up taking most of it home.

Our order came quickly. Nathan picked at his pizza and had to be nagged at to sit and eat. With him, it was a few bites here and there. Then he had a long drink of soda, followed by an attack of ants in the pants. He talked and talked and talked. Then he got out of his chair, jumped around a bit, and ran off to the bathroom (with a stop at the video machines). By the time he came back, the pizza was cold. Paul soon grew impatient with Nathan's monkey behavior, and sternly instructed him to sit his butt down and eat.

Lucie was ravenous, digging into her spaghetti with gusto, and practically inhaled the gigantic meatball. However, she slowed down while sucking up the almost foot long spaghetti noodles. Realizing she'd quickly be covered in sauce, Lucie asked me for her bib before things got too messy.

I wiped her face and hands off at regular intervals, and snuck my fork into her plate to cut up the noodles, hoping to speed her up. Slowly the spaghetti disappeared. By the time she was halfway through, we we're finished with our food. Our leftovers were boxed up and the bill was paid. Then Paul reached over to put her meal in a container

Lucie exploded, "Hey, Dad! I'M NOT DONE YET!"

Slowly attacked by Nathan's ants in the pants (who knew it was contagious?) we not-so-patiently watched Lucie eat the rest of her spaghetti. She had our undivided attention and relished every torturous, strand by tomato sauce covered strand.

 

Jul 10 2008

Caffeinated kiddos

Category: Come and Get It

Paul has come a long way from the trailer park he grew up in. Considering that his parents didn't finish high school, it's impressive that Paul has managed to not only graduate from high school, but leave college with two undergraduate and two graduate degrees.

Yet you can take the boy out of the trailer, but not the trailer out of the boy. There's something about Paul being white trash that comes out in our kitchen -- his love of cabbage fried up in bacon grease or cooking up big bowls of steamed beet leaves covered in vinegar. I've learned to like those dishes, too.

Then there's the white trash habit of letting kids drink coffee. Being true to their roots, Nathan and Lucie have developed an early love for the stuff. For most folks, coffee is an acquired taste. I didn't like it until I was in high school, but only drank coffee at the trendy cafes my friends and I hung out at way before Starbucks conquered the world. Still, I'm a diehard tea drinker. Herbal, chai, English or Asian blends...I love them all.

Paul's the family coffee drinker, having developed a strong habit in graduate school. (He's convinced that without it and beer, he wouldn't have survived college.) Weekend mornings, Paul will make himself a big mug of the stuff. But if he leaves it on the coffee table unguarded, it's a guarantee that the kids will sneak sips from it until it's gone.

There's nothing funnier than Paul picking up his mug, peering into it, and declaring, "Darn it, you kids! Who drank all my coffee?" Nathan and Lucie will then flee the scene of the crime, giggling all the way.

Just so Paul doesn't go into the coffee DTs, we've developed a recipe for kid's coffee so they can have their own mugs. You can probably find a version of this in your better white trash cookbooks.

Kid's Coffee
Take one kid sized mug and fill 1/2 to 3/4 of the way with milk. Add lots of granulated sugar, and then fill the rest of the way with coffee. Zap it in the microwave until warm but not hot. Stir and serve.

(You can also fill up a sippy cup 3/4 of the way with milk. Add some sugar and a little coffee. Then put on the lid and shake. Do not heat in microwave. Serve.)

Note:  After drinking, take the kids to school and let the teachers deal with your over-caffeinated, hyper offspring. If it's summer break, call grandma to come over and play toss in the yard so you can go back to bed.