old habits

It's hard to recognize in yourself traits that are abhorrent to you. If you hate grumbling in others, you're not going to want to admit to ever grumbling yourself. If you think that people are wasteful eaters, then you wont see in yourself your own food fussiness.  We like to believe we can do better than our mortal foes. 

And yet, I had this thought as I fixed breakfast this morning: Ed is a fussy eater. I've lived with him for nearly 18 years and I never quite allowed myself to say this before. I mean, the guy will eat leftovers that I wouldn't touch anymore for their age and decrepitude. At the same time, he'll appreciate a plump mussel, a perfect croissant, a gently baked piece of fish. He's not fussy, I would reassure myself. He just has a good sense of seasonal foods and he hates waste.

I changed my mind on all that today, as I ticked off all the foods I've made that he has claimed to be not good enough for a rerun going forward. Cakes that are too sweet, or too buttery, cookies that are too chewy, veggies, all kinds of veggies, meats -- most meats. Eggs that are too wet, berries that are underripe or overripe, mangos that are too sour, breads that don't have enough seeds or have too many. 

Of course, I've adjusted my cooking to meet his palate. The stuff I make he loves, praises, and eats in large amounts. But I have come to realize that I do not like adding new stuff to the rotation, because I can't tell if it will hit him right and no one wants to spend time preparing something that will be reluctantly consumed. I'd rather just do the stuff I know he'll love. 

Moreover,  I have done the same with the grandkids -- I pander to them by repeating the menus on Sunday, because I'd rather prepare favorites than try out new recipes and watch them work their forks reluctantly around their plates. I leave experimentation to the parents!  But all this has consequences for me: I have, in my own estimation, become a boring cook. (Today, I baked the beloved by all blueberry muffins... Have I made my point?!)

The rewards of repeat cooking are great. Snowdrop wrote me a letter (class project: write a letter) telling me how much she loves my cooking. Ed will gobble up our "favorites" as if he hadn't eaten for years. Perfectly crunchy cookies disappear with the speed of lightening. His favorite chili, made with his garden tomatoes is always treated like stuff for royalty.  So why would anyone risk messing with adored perfection?

Because it's boring. 

Of course, Ed would (and did over the breakfast today) protest to high heaven: I am not a fussy eater! Sure I have preferences! What's wrong with that??

Nothing, unless there are too many items in the "not to my taste" column.

From the standpoint of the cook -- it's not hard to lose one's culinary creativity. Much easier to fall into rote methods of food preparation, repeating recipes that you could do with eyes closed. My fish dishes have the same sauce served at the side because Ed loves that sauce above all other sauces. Still, I think at this point, I'd trade ease for enthusiasm for the new. A flip through a cook book and a suggestion -- make this dish! Or, let's try that one!

As I thought about how to cook going forward, I wondered if Ed's generation, raised on packaged, prepared foods, over-salted and over-sweetened, developed a craving for a sterile, dry kind of food. And a distaste for most vegetables because the caning industry really did kill a love of fresh and honest. By contrast, in Poland, fussy eating was of another world. Prepared foods were unknown. The diet was bland, but we all really did eat everything. 

Since Ed was put on notice by me about his fussiness, he has tried to reverse the image that he himself hates -- of a person who rejects perfectly acceptable foods. He dug into the leftover (overcooked) Brussel sprouts as proof of his open-mindedness! Still, as we get older, it becomes harder to shift gears. He's 72. I doubt he'll ever gobble up zucchini ("tasteless"), gnocchi ("too doughy"), or pureed soups ("I don't like the mouthfeel"). He'll overcook his hardboiled eggs (they stay in the hot water forever! Like, overnight!), but will tell me repeatedly that mushrooms are best not raw ("awful") and not browned, but somewhere in between. I considered it a victory when he changed his mind about salad dressing ("I like yours after all. Can we go back to that?"). And on the upside, repeating favorites does make for easier cooking -- dinner always takes an hour to prepare. At most 90 minutes. With my eyes closed.

Later in the morning, Ed is out with his high branch saw. You throw it up and then use a rope to saw off a branch. I leave him to his throws...

... and go for a walk in the neighborhood. 

(farmette lands, from the back)

I run into a couple of people who live in the new development and since I know they are on a list that shares development information, I ask them if they've heard anything about the commercial space that is being constructed on the site. 

We know there will be a wine and bourbon place. Like the one in the next door town (Oregon). 

Well now... Not quite the coffee shop that would have been my first choice, but maybe this has possibilities! An evening walk, a glass of wine at an outdoor table, a chat with your neighbors... I could be talked into that! 

And in the afternoon Snowdrop is here. She insists on helping Ed develop a google profile image.

I'm next.

Satisfied, she comes back to her books. But she is tempted by something else -- I told her I'd been swinging on the monkey bars in the neighborhood playground.

I want to go! 

And she is competitive! With her almost 70 year old grandmother. If I hung for 10 seconds, she wants to beat me. By a lot. (And, not surprisingly, she does.) She challenges me to several other climbs and swings but I tell her that I only compete against myself. This is hard for an 8 year old to understand, but I've said it before  -- you are your own challenge. "Do better" does not mean do better than others. And still she asks me -- you sure you don't want to climb up the climbing board or swing on the wheel?

I do not.

In the evening I make salmon cakes. There is absolutely nothing else worth making out of ground salmon and I do have batches of ground salmon in the freezer. There isn't much you can ruin in this. Add breadcrumbs, add onion, add and egg if you want. Yawn. With steamed asparagus. Double yawn. But so yummy nonetheless!