I am a huge advocate of getting my children to try new foods. What I mean to say is, I believe our palates evolve (or so I tell my kids). When I was a kid I wasn’t a big fan of tomatoes and avocados (to name 2 of at least 300), but now I adore them. Does your child eat roasted onions or olives, goat cheese or brussel sprouts? (Okay, be proud if they do, but my point is: don’ t we all like a lot more foods as adults than we did as children)?

My 11 year old likes more foods this year than he did last year (he recently added poached eggs and goat cheese to his repertoire; he disdained both for many years). Your taste buds are growing up, too, I tell him. And if it is a certain right of passage to maturity for your taste buds to develop, well, you have piqued their interest and even more importantly: their palate.

And besides, kids love to have opinions; and they love to share those opinions with adults… Parents in particular.

So why not give them an opportunity to decipher their palate, to navigate through flavors and textures, to think banana and avocado texture are gross, shrimp is chewy and chocolate mousse is really, really chocolatey?

And then they notice when their siblings like things other than them, and proudly discover they prefer Asian pears to other pears and are partial to kalamata olives. Maybe you should start with their favorite flavor of Kettle chips (mine adore the Honey Dijon)? And there are so many foods they still have to try, and retry, since their palates are growing up too.

The other day I was at the market, and discovered these little nubs. At almost any cheese counter, they have little pieces of cheese left over. Not worthy to stand alone, these are mere samplings, wrapped, weighed and marked: $ .57 for an ounce, $2.11 for a large chunk, $1.02 for a good taste of farmhouse white cheddar. Ultimately, for about $5 I came home with 6 different varieties of white cheddar. One was aged, one was from Vermont, others were specifically farmhouse cheddar and at least two came from England.

And I opened them, cut them into bite size pieces, marked their origins on some parchment, threw on some almonds and pears to cut the flavors and we all sat around and tasted cheddar. And shared opinions. Very, very sharp was one. Sweet and mild was another. And a third… what flavor is that? Interesting… it is the only one that says: ‘Aged.’

So we ate, and learned, and payed attention and shared. Those are the moments we live for.

Bad first, I always say. Or perhaps it should be good, then in all your bliss you forget to receive the bad news. But in this case it cannot be helped. The bad news is that I have been super sick, I am home now but did have a short stint at the hospital. I didn’t have the heart to photo hospital food for you, to display on my blog. Nope—it just wasn’t going to happen. Besides, it would have been hard to get a good angle on canned peaches and chicken broth. When I got home it was smoothies, scrambled eggs and plain toast. Yeah, not riveting.

That was the bad news.

The good news is juicier.

I am going to culinary school here in Seattle; I begin in a few weeks. The humble little school teeters right next to Seattle’s own Pike Place Market—the longest standing Farmers Market in Seattle—where we will comb for good eats and fresh seafood, take in the salty air and decide which eggplant… squash … and tomato to buy.

I have wanted such formal schooling for some time, to fill in the culinary gaps in my brain, to have professionals teach me a thing or two, and to round out my ability to play with food of every kind. I look forward to the practice and methodology and a better understanding of all things food—especially since this is where my career/interests/passion/life/stomach is taking me.

My greatest hope is that you will enjoy the ride vicariously. I hope to share tricks and ideas, and my goal will be to pare down (with an uber sharp knife, no doubt) what I have learned, to make it accessible and easy for you/me to try in your own/my own kitchen. I am and will remain queued up to keep food simple, ever determined to find amazing recipes that employ efficiency—a practical nod at harried lives with little to no time, plus kids, work and multi-layered schedules. Don’t get me wrong, the labor for amazing food is often worth the effort. But I am a mom, and the best kind of foodie I can be is practical.

So then, although I have been sick and in bed rather than in my kitchen, soon I will be more often in a commercial kitchen learning and writing and cooking and sharing with all of you. Tomato talk will start including chatter from a mom going to cooking school.

Who knew?

A day in the life of.

I often find the cumulative list of ‘things to do today’ an odd and funny allotment. Whether officially on a list or not, these items filled my day:

Drop off car at the shop; walk home.
(Note to self: figure out how to get the kids home from school).
Gather laundry from soccer piles and bathroom floors, take mushroom debacle out to trash.
Reorganize online bookmarks. Edit blog posts. Spray lamp base black.
Buy cold medicine. Eat granola. Build fire.
Review websites for client, reschedule phone conference.
Reheat pizza for lunch.
Consolidate stray paper airplanes.
Phone husband to remind him I love him.
Play photographer: snap photos of lamp base, earthy beets on a wooden plank…
Buy hand-wipes for my family, to fend off germs.
Call friend to vent, share and schedule lunch.
Remove fish from freezer for dinner.

Reminds me of an egg scramble, or what my aunt calls her ‘kitchen sink scramble.’ When whatever you have on hand is what goes into the skillet; a bit of cooking from the hip, where you add a bit of this and that with a generous pinch of salt and ideally, a snotty deliberateness. A look requiring no words, that states: “I meant to do that.”

In the middle of online bookmarks, newly blackened lamps, running the washing machine and getting kids from A to B: I make the executive decision to apply the kitchen sink method to my cooking for the next few days.

My last few dinners have been about me digging through my freezer, figuring out how to fill the meal void with a mountain of veggies, some new recipes, and aiming toward a family goal of trying new seafoods (it is good for you, so we are aiming to ‘find fish’ that we like: tonight we try a sampling of mahi mahi and tilipia). I sometimes enjoy using as many ingredients as I can from my fridge and freezer, throwing caution to the wind, not so perfectly matching the veggie with the entree or soup… sometimes kitchens remain inspired because you pull out the stops, take a new angle, or simply aim to use up your ingredients. I doubt smores were deliberate. Even a sandwich came to be because someone needed two slices of bread to hold together a selected pile of ingredients…

I like taking my boys to new restaurants, to practice good manners and try new foods. I sometimes tell them: you probably haven’t met your favorite food yet, so you should keep trying new food(s).

It is a goal of mine to cultivate curious palates in my kids; to encourage them to try new food(s), and to critique the flavors and textures (they love having an opinion, so this arrangement works out beautifully). Restaurants are a great place to try a new dish, and if it isn’t something I prepare regularly at home, all the better. They don’t like everything, in fact far from it; but then again, that would be boring.

The other day we were sipping smoothies from a cafe, and though it was a smoothie he had ordered before, my son refused to move beyond the second sip. It doesn’t taste like it usually does, he explains, the aftertaste has a salad flavor (though he has been known to eat the occasional salad, apparently he doesn’t prefer salad in his smoothies). Interesting, I thought. This from a kid who can detect the flavor of an opened bottle of juice from across the room. He must be destined for wine tasting, a connoisseur of sorts.

Regular restaurant visits can be pricey; we have discovered a good time for less-expensive tasting is lunch. Restaurants often serve the same courses for lunch and dinner; lunch costs less. Even better: go during Happy Hour.

Happy Hour isn’t just for bar-hoppers; it sometimes applies to outdoor seating or even better, the entire restaurant. I am not talking the late-night post 10 pm happy hour. Many venues in our area boast great prices from 3-6 or 4-7. Just call around and learn where the deals are: and don’t be shy about asking for the Happy Hour menu.

We recently enjoyed a few plates of appetizers [via Happy Hour] at a nearby restaurant. I showed the boys the difference in pricing, explaining that these are less busy times in restaurants, and better prices will increase customers during those times. The blackened salmon caesar normally costs $11 but during happy hour, it was offered at a mere $4. The coconut prawns? Only $4 instead of $10; same for the calamari and steak burger.

We felt so spoiled—and happily gobbled up all these new flavors and sauces. My 11 year old was enjoying the prawns and strawberry lemonade. He said the flavors were so far apart from one another his mouth felt alive (pause, while mother pats herself on the back). And to top it off, my 10 year old exclaimed: “I love happy hour.”

I imagine him stating such in the classroom. With the following query from another 10 year old: “what is happy hour?” No doubt the teacher will overhear, and might imagine parents skulking around happy hours all about town, looking for the best, cheap drinks (pause while I stop patting myself on the back).

Despite mixed messages and overheard boyish conversations, happy hour really is a great way to try a range of new foods and not suck your pocketbook dry.

My son tried potato skins for the first time, and though it is hardly a stretch, my 10 year old loved them. We recreated them at home:

Homespun Potato Skins
Small fingerling potatoes
1-2 T olive oil
large pinch kosher salt
Bacon, cooked and sliced
Cheese, shredded
optional: Cherry tomatoes (halved)
optional: sliced spring onions

Roast potatoes: lube 1-2 LBS fingerling potatoes with 1-2 T olive oil, sprinkle with kosher salt, and 1 T dried Italian herbs. Roast at 400 for 20 minutes. Remove from oven, let cool slightly, cut in half lengthwise, scoop out a little flesh, enough to make a 1 T impression on each half (room for cheese and a cherry tomato). Sprinkle with cheese and crumbled bacon; top with cherry tomato halves and spring onions, if desired. Put back in oven, raising temperature to 500, for 10-12 minutes. Serve.

Prosciutto, peas, Parmesan, parsley and pasta. What is not to love? (Maybe guilt from all the cream and butter)? Well, at least the peas are healthy: so I add a ton of them! The fresh, sweet peas perfectly compliment the salty prosciutto and rich cream. The more peas, the less guilt in my mind.

I am a fan of the book French Women don’t get Fat and have just started reading the sequel: French Women for all Seasons. The beauty of this rich dish in context of her espoused food philosophy is this: enjoy it. Slowly savor… each creamy, salty, herb flecked, pea popping bite. Let the flavors loll about on your tongue, sip some fruity red, momentarily close your eyes. What I love about this book—and her orientation toward food—is that it encourages you to focus on the pleasure of food. This luxurious and rich dish, Mireille would recommend, should be offset by smarter, less fatty foods in the days surrounding. But in the end, when you are eating this dish: be present with it. Enjoy each bite.

And be a food snob. Not in a nose up way, but in a way that makes you focus on the flavors and bites, not just eating to pass time or until your tummy hurts. Don’t eat and forget that you are eating, don’t eat just to finish your plate: eat for the pleasure of your palate. And when your palate is satisfied (usually before your belly is bursting), then stop. Make every bite earn its place; it must be highly satisfying and delicious or you won’t eat any more. Try it: it is an interesting experience.

And a wonderful excuse to have and enjoy this indulgent, satiating dish. But when you have enjoyed these flavors enough, leave the rest on your plate and use your food snobbery to pick and choose only the bites that are most satisfying each and every meal, each and every day. I sometimes find myself thinking ‘that flavor isn’t worth any more bites’ or ‘I definitely need a few more bites of that.’ Or ‘this dish is so worth each singular, pleasure-filled bite.’

It may sound silly, but for me, slipping into this French philosophy, helps me focus more on flavor profiles, and ultimately the pleasure of food. I don’t deny myself a rich and creamy bacon laced pasta dish—in fact I enjoy each and every bite—but I usually don’t need too many bites because invariably it IS really rich and for me that means my palate is happier sooner.

This is almost a one dish meal, though if I serve it to guests I will certainly start the meal with a selection of olives, bread with dipping sauce and perhaps a light salad. Dessert shouldn’t be too complex or overwhelming: perhaps a fruity sorbet or fruit and cheese to drink with a friendly port. Or better: some simple cookies with coffee. Mostly, though, I make this for a weeknight meal for my family; it is quick and easy to make, and a dish I love to warm up for lunch the next day!

Tortellini Carbonara
4 T butter
6 oz prosciutto
3 T flour
2 cups heavy cream (though I sometimes cut it in half with milk)
1 cup cooked peas
1 tsp ground pepper
3 T fresh Parmesan
1 T chopped Italian Parsley
1 LB cheese tortellini

Melt butter in pan, sauté prosciutto (low/medium heat) for a minute, add flour and cook, stirring for another 3 minutes. Whisk in cream, stirring a bit, let thicken for 7-10 minutes (aim for low simmer). Add the P’s: peas, pepper, Parmesan and parsley. Lower heat and keep warm. Make pasta, drain, toss and serve. Pass the peas please! I always add extra pepper, parsley and Parmesan on top…