The Enthusiastic Consumption of Vegetables

daphne on December 10, 2010

You will never guess what’s been going on around here.

No one could have seen it coming.  I scarcely believe it myself.

But it’s true.

At about 6:00 every evening it happens . . . the enthusiastic consumption of vegetables.

I kid you not.  Broccoli is being tossed back willy-nilly.  Peppers and cucumbers and chard and spinach, all of them, down the hatch without a whine or whimper.

Which brings me to my complaint of the day: setting a good example.  Like many parenting techniques, it looks good on paper.  I’m guessing that’s because the vegetable-eating requirement fades to near invisible in the fine print.

I was hoodwinked.

My daughter and I were engaged in our monthly debate:  She wants to be a vegetarian, and I think that peanut butter and pasta do not constitute a healthy diet for a growing kid. I was a non-eater of worthy food myself as a child; I recognized her ploy – claim vegetarianism and remove an entire category of food from discussion.

So I called her on it.

I pledged full support of her dietary choices if, and I thought this was a deal-breaking kind of if, she enthusiastically consumed a wide variety of vegetables.  Consistently.  Happily.  Without any arm-twisting.

And if (again I was confident that this was an enormous if) she was on board with the happy veggie plan, then I would bring the whole family along for the ride.  After all, it’s a healthier choice for our bodies.  It’s a responsible choice for the environment.   And it would mean preparing just one meal each night and not a myriad of separate dishes.

That was my gauntlet — if she chose to be an Enthusiastic Consumer of Vegetables (how proud I was of this gem of a phrase) then I would prepare vegetarian dinners four or five nights a week.

She saw my bet. And she upped the anti.

She flipped through cook books and bookmarked recipes.

And my picky eater ate risotto with peppers and spinach.

She of the finicky-palate ate potato and garlic soup.

And she has continued to eat platefuls of stir-fried vegetables every night.  Which means, alas, that the grown-ups at the table dutifully have to do the same.

But I don’t have to do it enthusiastically.  That rule only applies to vegetarians.

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PS — The garden is on her side.  Check out this hearty haul kicked up in early December. (yes, thanks for asking, we are growing wine.)

One last haul of garden bounty before the snows

I’ll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger..once a week?

daphne on April 19, 2009

It appears that I have gotten myself into a bit of a spot.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled when something I write reverberates with a reader.  It’s just that this time, some of my readers have taken a suggestion I made a little too seriously.

Make that one reader in particular: my husband.

Seems he’s gone whole hog (pun intended) on this concept of dragging our family onto the meat-free bandwagon.  Damn.  Talk about your selective reading.  What happened? Did he miss the part about the climate change chocolate bars? Ten years of marriage and he still can’t sort through my pretty-sounding rhetoric to get at the solid (dark, chocolate) core of my argument?

Perhaps he’s forgotten about the youngest in our household?  Our little bacon-loving fiend will not take lightly to his proposed plan. Which, by the way, I think he’s calling Let Them Eat Tofu.

Ironically, I’m pondering his plan as I type away here at the kitchen table, draped in the aroma of Asian BBQ ribs that is wafting out from our crock-pot.  I don’t care what you say — no matter how long I steep the broccoli, it will never smell this good.

But I know, it’s bigger than that.   It’s one thing to have a quiet little tug-o-war with my conscience over doing right by my body.  But when it’s out here in the open, and the balance of our planet is at stake? Well, that makes it a little harder to garner support for the id side of my rope. (That’s the side that’s whining over the prospect of missing a tasty burger, not to mention the overwhelming challenge of coming up with week after week of meat-free dinners when I’m already maxed-out over what to feed my group every single day.)

That’s it, actually.  I despise the never-ending ritual of figuring out what to eat for dinner.  Taking the meat out of the meals makes that task all the more daunting. It’s intimidating….intimidating, yes, but wait a minute.  Surely this is not impossible for a multi-tasking, masters-degree wielding mama like myself.  What if I were to just tackle that bull broccoli by the horns right here, right now?  It only follows that my food-figuring fears will be put to rest.

Here it is then.  A sample week in the life of the Let Them Eat Tofu meal plan:

  1. Day One:  Spinach Lasagna.  So far so good. I love spinach lasagna. This is going to be a snap.
  2. Day Two: Eggplant Parmesan.  Tastes like chicken, right?
  3. Day Three: Pancakes. Meat-free recipe. No additional trip to the store. Everyone’s a winner.
  4. Day Four: Um. Hmm… Cake! Cake for dinner. Cake contains exactly no meat.
  5. Day Five:  Let them eat cake! Again! This is not bad at all. What was I worried about?
  6. Day Six:  Pass the syrup, pancake night is here again.
  7. Day Seven:  On the seventh day, I rest. Someone please order take-out.

Truth be told I didn’t review this menu with Dave before I posted it.  Just in case he finds fault with my weekly plan, maybe I can get him on board with meat as an occasional treat, presuming we go for the good stuff, locally raised, grass fed meat. It is a bit more pricey, but since we’ll only be eating it during the harvest moon and on alternative leap years, it’s well worth the splurge. Locally raised means a smaller carbon hoof-print for the earth, and grass fed beef is loads healthier for us people too.  It’s lower in fat and higher in omega 3, among other benefits.  Let’s see what Mr. No-need-for-chocolate-if-we-skip-the-meat has to say about that.

Speaking of chocolate, I’m still waiting for my climate change bars to come in.  Which means I’m back to figuring out what on earth to make for dinner tonight.

I think you know where I stand.  Let them eat cake.