It’s a slow, slippery slide into the world of a foodie. It can start with a casual glance at the ingredients list while mindlessly shoveling boxed cereal into one’s mouth. Raised on a steady diet of Cookie Crisp, I don’t remember the first time I saw the words, “color added,” or, “natural and artificial flavors,” but as a kid, I’m sure I didn’t care.
As a mother, it’s a whole new world. When I bought that first box of organic something-or-other, I was pretty proud of myself. Until I read the label and realized that organic sugar is still just sugar, pumping through my tousle-haired toddler’s bloodstream, first thing in the morning.
So I cleared the cereal off the pantry shelf and switched to oatmeal. But not instant, because that’s been stripped of all the fiber and is highly processed. Steel cut is probably best, but that should be soaked overnight, to break down the difficult-to-digest grains into a more accessible form. OK, that takes a lot of forethought. It was not likely that whilst wrestling my little one into PJs and cajoling him into opening his mouth so I could brush his eight teeth, that I would remember to soak the freaking oats. I think we just started eating eggs. After we started raising our chickens.
Fast forward a decade or so. We’ve been through several incarnations of various food fads. We are voracious readers. With each new tome, its author screaming his/her reasons why their view on nutrition is gospel-truth, I rearranged my pantry. At one point, I vowed never to eat white rice or potatoes again, fearing their empty carbohydrates were killing my entire family.
There was the raw food stage, but the overwhelming use of dates, avocados and nuts was diametrically opposed to the locavore philosophy that we were trying to practice. Plus, it excluded my children from pretty much any and all birthday parties, as we were nut allergy pariahs.
But the locavore ideal made us swear off bananas and when you’re wandering through the market and your 5-year-old is crying because she just wants a banana, it’s hard not to cave. Plus people look at you super-weird when you’re telling your kid she can’t have fruit. And I’m not going to lie; I missed my peanut butter and banana sandwiches.
And you may have heard of grass-fed beef, but did you know it doesn’t mean much unless it says grass-finished beef? Probably not. Because that’s reserved for the super-crazy among the crazies. Then there’s pastured chicken and pork. And just try to find a common standard for “humane” animal care. I know, eventually we’re killing them to eat them, does it really matter how they’re treated up until that point? Yes, to some of us who don’t know when to quit, it really does.
There have been late nights, when most people are winding down, relaxing with a nice book or a favorite television show when I’ve instead found myself on the phone with my bestie, uttering words of contempt at my chicken bouillon.
“Who puts guar gum in bouillon? Why would they do that?”
“I know but at least it’s not in aseptic packaging, leaching BPA, like the chicken stock,” was the harried, slightly crazed response.
“So do we just have to make our own stock? Where am I going to store all of that? We need to go mason jar shopping.”
My kids have had different reactions to my food insanity. My oldest has always rolled with it, content to eat most things, as long as he didn’t have to have any part in preparing, cooking or cleaning up. However, he’d be just as happy with Spaghetti-Os and Doritos.
But my youngest is quite the opposite, falling for it all — hook, line and sinker. She scoffs at school “lunches” and will starve before eating from a fast food restaurant that obtains food through factory farming and/or CAFOs. She snacks on seaweed and pulls vegetables right off the vine when she plays outside.
But this month, my oldest is reading the Omnivore’s Dilemma in school and his teacher plans on ending the year with Super Size Me. Both are enlightening, as well as disturbing, and I predict that by summer, he’ll be the newest passenger on the foodie crazy train.
Foodie or not, both of my kids love anything that tastes like dessert, even when it’s good for them. While trying to replicate the berry smoothie that I bribe them with when I drag them to Costco right after school, I discovered a fantastic knock-off that could not be easier. I’ve spent years struggling with the proper mix of ice, yogurt and fruit when all I needed was three ingredients and a blender.
Knock-off Costco Berry Smoothie
2 cups frozen organic cherries
1 cup frozen organic strawberries
3-5 cups of water, depending on desired consistency
Put all ingredients in the blender. Blend on high until smooth. And if you happened to grow, harvest and freeze those fruits yourself, you can even enjoy it without guilt.
Laurie Nigro, a mother of two, is passionate about her family, her community, and natural living. Laurie resides in downtown Riverhead and is co-founder of the River and Roots Community Garden on West Main Street.
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