We found ourselves in the supermarket, quietly observing each other instead of the rows of products neatly stacked around us. Going down the aisles with my stepdaughter alone sealed our pact — to be mutually interested in food together — all the while confirming that we are indeed a family-in-training and were learning to share these sacred trips together, one day at a time.
Our love for food surpassed that of the boys in our household and we bonded over it regularly. It had become “our thing.” Up until then, it was all about a family outing and the emphasis was regularly placed on having faith in each other as a family. Making family choices about food was new territory here and we all approached it cautiously.
“Do you like salads?” I asked her. She flicked at the imaginary light bulb over her head then awarded me her toothy grin that she’ll learn to manipulate one day. “I love salad! But only with dressing,” she said excitedly as she continued to push the shopping cart with all her might.
Here’s what’s wrong with this first picture: the dressing, in her young mind, overshadowed the salad. It was a condition, an “only if.” But let’s be honest, when a child is willing to eat salad, dressing or not, you’re sinning if you don’t encourage it; so I plundered on into my newly acquired role of parenting and let the games begin.
Dressing! This is super, I thought as we drove home through what Kuala Lumpur considers traffic. At her age, I was troubled by salad dressing; we were not friends. I hated the acidity that masked what I felt to be bland, watery vegetables. I didn’t understand, despite my mother’s many explanations, why I was subjected to different kinds of salads every day and why I wasn’t allowed to leave the table until I was done with that wilting, multicolored mess left lurking around the edges of my plate.
It was then that it struck me that the alienation of my younger self throughout the years made me forgetful of the fact that many children in Egypt still assume that “salad” is a base combination of tomatoes and cucumbers along with some lettuce and carrots. Mistake number two (my turn this time): assume that how you’ve been taught to eat is how most children are directed.
Being a quick dinner night, there had to be a plan of action upon arriving back home. Take out the marinating chicken and fire up the stove then proceed to make a salad out of the fresh but very random produce I chose to buy earlier on: apples, leafy greens, pumpkin seeds, et al. After challenging myself at the chopping board and succeeding in keeping all of my fingers, I moved onto the dressing — olive oil, white balsamic vinegar, water, sugar, salt, pepper, thyme and some citrus rind. No overwhelming salad dressings please.
I laid the table and walked out of the kitchen with dinner and my head held high, waiting to receive that much-needed approval I was seeking from my stepchildren.
“Where’s the dressing?” was the first bomb thrown my way. “It’s right there on the salad,” I said, almost in the form of a question.
“You didn’t bring the bottle. I can’t see the white or orange sauce on the salad. Yuck, this salad has seeds.” Is it safe for a seven-year-old to believe that all salad dressings are cream-based and store-bought? Are our trending store-bought options limited to ranch and Thousand Island dressing? My mind was reeling.
I don’t know who was to blame. We, as a collective population, have turned our backs on educating our children about food and instead replaced this responsibility of ours with a vitamin supplement that will hopefully keep them in shape.
Many children I’ve encountered recently do not recognize many ingredients freshly available at hand and honestly believe that cake comes out of a cake-mix box. More of us busy adults are turning to convenient solutions that will shorten our time in the kitchen at the expense of our health and our children’s health.
We teach our children how to dress, swim, support our favorite football club, leave a tip, and how to answer politely. Some of us take pride in where we send our kids to school. There are others of us that even teach our children how to change a tire. We educate them constantly. What I want to know is this: when did we stop passing on that life skill known as cooking?
We do not live in a can or a box and we should not expect our children to think that things are made in them. I’m still trying to find the answers to so many questions plaguing my mind. Tiresome as it might be, my stepchildren have reinforced in me the need to find out what it is that moves our food culture as a whole. Until I find those answers, I’ll read, research and hand over a recipe that might go beyond many people’s comfort zone. It’ll be your job to pass it on or any other recipe on. Lazy or not, that’s how societies develop, my friend. Will you do your part this week?
Honey Roasted Pear with an Apple Thyme Vinaigrette (Serves 8)
Vinaigrette
5 tablespoons of unsweetened apple juice
4 tablespoons of white wine vinegar or cider vinegar
1 small shallot, finely diced
2 teaspoons of fresh thyme, chopped
? cup of vegetable oil
A splash of balsamic vinegar
Pears
2 bunches of fresh thyme
4 grainy but firm pears, halved and cored
? cup of honey
Coarse salt and black pepper to taste
Salad
1 small head of butter head lettuce, torn
115 grams of rocket
120 grams of blue cheese, crumbled
½ cup of hazelnuts, coarsely chopped
Vinaigrette
? Whisk all ingredients in a small bowl.
Pears and salad
? Preheat oven to 175 degrees Celsius.
? Place thyme sprigs on a baking sheet or parchment paper.
? Place your pear halves, cut side down, on a chopping board. Starting 1.5 centimeters from each stem, cut lengthwise into 1 centimeter slices. Apply pressure gently to fan out the slices.
? Place pears directly on the thyme. Drizzle the pears with honey then sprinkle with salt and pepper. Bake until pears are tender, about 15 minutes. Turn your oven off and allow them to rest in place for half an hour before serving.
? Combine lettuce, rocket in a large bowl. Add prepared vinaigrette and toss to coat. You could also opt to serve the vinaigrette separately. Divide salad into separate portions. Place the pear halves alongside your salad. Garnish your salad with blue cheese and top with hazelnuts.
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