On Not Cooking

The past few months, I haven’t cooked much. As in, barely at all. I can remember the last meal I properly cooked--an excellent cauliflower and bacon pasta, for dinner on Friday when we had friends over--and before that, I’m honestly not sure. I’ve baked bread every couple-few weeks, and I’ve looked at recipes plenty. I’ve read the serious food magazines that came in the mail, and the email newsletters scattered with luscious photos--every word. I’ve day-dreamed about cooking: standing in the kitchen with the sun streaming in, a little jazz playing, and piles of vegetables yielding under my knife.

But I haven’t actually put knife to vegetable, except to yield the carrot sticks that are the only vegetable Little Z, now 3, regularly eats. Oh, that’s right--a couple weeks ago I also baked Little Z two birthday cakes in one week, one for her school party and one for home. And I attempted to bake crumpets, but failed because I filled the molds too full. I will try these again, soon. I will.

Split Pea Soup: Sympathy for the Toddler

Yesterday Little Z and I arrived home to the perfume of split pea soup wafting through the apartment. I had done my best to build up the idea of soup for dinner, and I had hopes that she might actually, as she so delicately phrases it, “put it in the mouth” (accompanied by gesture: wide open mouth, finger pointing toward).

On the way home we had established that we would have cheesy bread, grapes, and yogurt as well as soup for dinner. So the cheese, fruit, and yogurt food groups would all be well represented. These represent the greater part of Little Z's current diet.

I’m not going to keep you in suspense here, people. Little Z did not eat the soup. She took one look at that lumpy green mess and said, “No eat soup.” And then repeated that about 50 times. There was one moment when I dipped my cheesy bread into the soup and took a bite when Z got interested and briefly held out her cheesy bread and said, “dip?” But by the time I shoved my bowl toward her, the moment had passed. “No eat soup.”

I have to admit, I have some sympathy for the toddler. Split pea soup is not inherently delicious looking. I recognize that it takes time and experience to understand that this ugly stuff is actually good to eat. So it’s cool, Little Z. Maybe next time you’ll take a taste. Or the time after that.