Le Menu at Chez Jos

By seesyong4 | January 16th, 2008 at 3:52 pm

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Back in the olden days, before babymamma and I had kids, when we were
just a couple of crazy, drug-addicted layabouts waiting for the
unemployment check to drop, we used to visit our friends with kids from
time to time. As a devoted cheapskate, I was always struck by how much
food got wasted in the process of feeding a little one. There’d be some
sweet mom trying to get her baby to eat something, anything, and in the
process stacking seven different kinds of cheese and cold cuts and
fruit onto the little feller’s high-chair tray. And, of course, when
the little feller refused to eat anything but Cheerios, all those
vittles went into the trash. When and if we have kids, I thought to myself, we’ll never let that happen. Our child will have some plate discipline.

    Yes, you can stop laughing now.

   
It’s become clear to, in the short time she’s been with us, that
Josie’s will to eat or not eat a particular foodstuff is more powerful
than both of us combined, perhaps more powerful than God. And so, we
are left night after night with the remains of our failed attempts to
get her piehole healthily stuffed. Now the reasonable parent (read:
non-cheapskate) might glance at this assemblage and, with a twinge of
guilt, head for the garbage can. But as fully established by now, I
don’t qualify as reasonable. In our household, I am known as “the
disposal.” Meaning that anything in the fridge, or the cupboard, that
might qualify as, uh, no longer healthy to eat goes directly
into my craw. Yogurt with a bit of fuzz on top. That week-old
spaghetti. Forgotten chips with the texture of naugahyde. All mine!

   
And thus, as Josie has become one of those charmingly picky toddlers,
forever ignoring the various comestible options set before her and
holding out for that end-of-the-meal cookie, my disposal talents have
had to scale new heights. For Josie, of course, doesn’t just not eat
her food. She tends to get a feel for her meals before rejecting them.
By which I mean she plays with her food. Thus, I am left with menus
like the following:

    Seedless Grape Halves and Corn Drizzled with Hummus

    Smoked Turkey on a Bed of Bran Muffin, with Baby Yogurt Ragout

    Elbow Macaroni Encrusted with Strawberry Jam and Dried Prune Juice

    Speckled Broccoli and Fig Newton Innards on Shards of Buttered Toast

    
Now, I know exactly what you’re thinking. And the truth is, I have
given long and serious thought to the idea of opening a restaurant.
There’s no question that the flavor and texture combinations produced
so effortlessly by our child rank among the most innovative of today’s
culinary giants. The only catch, of course, is that each meal takes so
long to produce. Also: you need a really adventurous palate, not to
mention a iron stomach. And I’d need about a million dollars cash to
get things rolling, which is about a million more than I have at the
moment.

     Still! If any of you fellow tray-scarfers wants to contribute to the potential menu, please leave your recipes below…

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