It’s been nuts in my house since late summer. That’s when my husband and I decided to act on our long-nagging desire to shake things up by paring things down. Things, literally, as in possessions. (It’s been non-stop Craigslisting, Freecycling and donating around here.) But also things in the greater cosmic sense: stress, expenses, responsibilities.

We’re trading our big old house for a loft in a former warehouse downtown. My husband just started a new job close to the new place. We’re ditching the second car. More being. Less doing. That’s the idea, anyway.

We have several months yet until we move, and plenty more to do. So when Tess wanted an ice-skating party for her 8th birthday, it was a huge relief. We’ve run the gamut on parties — from small home celebrations to a “Little House”-themed bash in a log cabin — but this year, the simpler, the better.

So we rented our city’s outdoor rink. Everyone brought their families. And we celebrated our Winter Solstice girl on a clear, gorgeous late December day. No gifts, no favors, no elaborate party fare. (And I’ve been known to put the “labor” in “elaborate.”) We collected donations for the city’s animal shelter. I made snowflake gingerbread cookies (on sticks! using a variation on this recipe). We had clementines and water and hot cocoa. And everyone had all kinds of fun.

Hot cocoa story: We ordered from our local grocer. They make it on-site, then pour it into those nifty to-go boxes with spouts, the ones that stay hot for a few hours. And because I asked (and paid a few extra bucks), they were happy to sub local organic milk for the milk they usually use. Some people see that as fussy. I see it as simple. Asked. Accepted. Who ever said this stuff has to be stressful? (It doesn’t.) 

On that same note: Before she settled on ice skating, Tess lobbied for a party at a local indoor play center. And so I called and had one of those conversations I often have. Me: “We’d like to bring our own food, please.” Play center staffer: “Do you have a concern about allergies?” Me: “No, we just don’t eat the kind of food you serve.” Staffer: “Outside food is against our policy (followed by an explanation that blamed a non-existent state law).”

Well, that led to a phone call with the owner, and wouldn’t you know it? Easy-peasy. After I explained that we don’t eat the highly processed junk they typically serve (OK, not in those exact words), he offered to get whatever food we wanted and prepare it in their kitchen. I was all set to order fruit and veggie trays when Tess changed her mind. But I like knowing that’s an option for the future.

BTW, all this rightsizing and rethinking is why it’s been so quiet on Spoonfed the last several months. But that’s not part of the simplification. Quite the opposite. I’m hoping these changes free up even more time for blogging and the thinky pieces I like so much. In the meantime, I’ll try to keep things lively over on Facebook (where I get my micro-blogging fix). And look for a new post early next month that will help get Spoonfed back on track.

Happy 2012, all.

Spoonfed is on Facebook. You’ll find links to blog posts, news and commentary on raising food-literate kids, questions and comments from readers, voices, viewpoints, the works. Stop by, like the page, chime in, spread the word. (Thanks.)

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When you blog about kids and food, people ask you questions. Especially this time of year, when sweets flow like lava and the sugar high carries you from trick-or-treats to Easter baskets. What do you do about the candy?

So here it is. The post about the candy.

Americans spend more than $2 billion a year on Halloween candy. Two. Billion.

Our Halloween night strategy is pretty simple. After trick-or-treating, costume silliness, and the obligatory ritual of dumping the haul and comparing it with friends, we divide and conquer. Anything with trans fats, high-fructose corn syrup, artificial colors or gelatin (it’s a veg thing) gets tossed. Right in the garbage. (Though last year we kept a bunch to use for decorating gingerbread houses, and that was fun.)

What’s left goes in a candy jar. Tess gets a few pieces that night, but then the jar is stored out of sight. After that, if she asks for something from the jar, we decide case by case. If she’s had other junk that day or it’s close to bedtime, no go. Otherwise we let her pick a piece. But we might dip into that thing once every month or two. It’s out of sight, so she just forgets about it.

When Tess was in preschool, and we visited just a few neighbors’ houses, we’d let her pick a piece, dump the rest and call it a night. Now she helps me sort and toss. We talk about why the ingredients are bad, how they affect our bodies, and how there are better (and tastier) alternatives anyway. We do the same with birthday-party goody bags. She’s first and foremost a chocolate girl, so we’re fortunate that most of the candy doesn’t even appeal to her. Except for Smarties, which I give a pass for food dye because they’re so pastel I figure it can’t be that much. And she eats, what, like a roll a year?

Orange you glad they make this?

But if your kids are more likely to balk at the loss of a Tootsie Pop, you can always have alternative treats on hand for trades. YummyEarth makes great-tasting lollipops. Or swap gummy candies for Annie’s fruit snacks. It’s all still sugar-sugar-sugar, but at least you avoid the other nasties.

I’ve been hearing a lot lately about Great Pumpkins and Halloween Fairies and Switch Witches and other magical creatures who come in the night and swap candy for toys. I’d rather have Tess involved in the process than avoid the conversation by letting some nighttime sprite do the deed. But I suppose the swap fairy could be fun if your kid understands why the candy goes poof. The more that children understand the reasons behind food choices, the smarter the decisions they’ll make on their own. That sounds pretty self-help cheeseball, I know, but it actually works.

So what if Tess wants to eat something we’ve put in the toss pile? We let her. Because the surest way to get a kid to appreciate real food is to let her taste the opposite. Usually a bite or two is all it takes. Which may be why I have a budding chocolate snob on my hands. Drugstore chocolate is no match for the good dark stuff.

Sticky and icky

And what do trick-or-treaters find at our door? (No, not toothbrushes. Though a dentist in my neighborhood did that when I was a kid. Bad idea.) For years we’ve done small tubs of Play-Doh, temporary tattoos, bouncy balls, pencils and notepads, that sort of thing. Last year we gave out the YummyEarth lollipops, too, if only to tip the balance in the treat bags. I know others who do mini raisin boxes, or small bags of nuts, crackers or pretzels (though you still have to label-read for crazy ingredients). Our local food co-op sells bulk ginger chews and mini fair-trade chocolate bars (also available here). And a reader, Karen, alerted me to an organization called Green Halloween that has a terrific list of treat alternatives. Love (love!) the nature items. Or you could get really radical and give away junk-food carrots. (See my previous post on that here.)

Now. Wait. Listen. Someone, somewhere, is saying some variation of this: “Sheesh. It’s Halloween. It’s one day a year. Lighten up and let the kids have their candy, already!”

But, see, that’s the problem. It’s not just one day a year. It’s Halloween night and class parties and community events and then the winter holidays and Valentine’s Day and Easter and birthday parties and swimming class and soccer games and the bank and the shoe store and restaurants with kid menus and the grandparents’ house and anyplace else kids set foot, including, of course, school. The sugar culture is so strong, the highly processed foodstuffs so epidemic, that we no longer have the luxury of viewing these things in isolation. It’s not just a few Halloween treats or one blue cupcake. It’s a crushing pile of chemical-laden pseudo food. And at some point we just have to make it stop.

So yes, I say boo.

What do you think? Do you have a sweets strategy? Treat tales? Tell me how you plan to handle all that candy on All Hallows Eve.

This post originally appeared on Spoonfed last Halloween, and we had quite a discussion about the candy onslaught, non-food alternatives and the ethics of throwing candy away. Then I followed up with this post about the days after the big night. (Hint: Limiting candy does not ruin childhood.) And in December, we used the Halloween stash to decorate (non-edible) gingerbread houses. Tootsie Rolls make great logs.

Spoonfed is on Facebook. You’ll find links to blog posts, news and commentary on raising food-literate kids, questions and comments from readers, voices, viewpoints, the works. Stop by, like the page, chime in, spread the word. (Thanks.)

This post is linked into Fight Back Fridays.

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On the road this summer, I was struck, as I always am while traveling, by what other kids eat. For all the junk food in everyday life, there’s something astonishing about vacation. Maybe it’s the sheer volume of really bad food. Or the vacation-treat mentality. Or all those wiped-out parents desperate for something, anything, edible. All I know is that it gets to me.

I know better. I know about rampant bad options and insidious marketing. I know it takes time to educate ourselves and steely resolve to reject the status quo. And I personally know lots of people who just years — even months — ago had epiphanies about the state of our food supply and now wonder how they could have been so blind for so long. And I’m still learning, too. Every. Single. Day. So I know that many people are at their own points on their own journeys.

But as much as I believe in the importance of small steps, as much as I preach and practice tact and humor when dealing with tricky situations, as much as we’ve worked hard to raise Tess to be non-judgmental, I still sometimes have to fight the urge to walk up to complete strangers and roar about the Coke-Cheetos-McFried-bits they’re feeding their kids.

The longer I’m a parent, the more I have actual visceral reactions to seeing children eat this way. At a living-history museum last month, I was pleasantly surprised by the cafeteria’s a la carte salads, fruit-and-cheese plates and hummus packs. It was enough that we could cobble together a decent lunch when we decided to stay longer than planned. But still I heard nearly every other parent ask: “Where’s your kids’ menu?” Which of course had the usual substandard fare. Call me melodramatic, but I wanted to scream.

Instead, I did what I always do and mumbled to my husband. Other times it’s my friends who get an earful. And other times, if the opportunity comes up to weigh in, if another parent somehow invites my advice (like that mother at Starbucks who wanted me to tell her 5-year-old that he’d be more satisfied with a juice box and donut than with “just water”… um, no), I am diplomacy personified, because I really do believe that’s more effective. But does that stop me from having crazy thoughts? Hell no.

And let me tell you: I read a lot of food blogs. I track a lot of food news. I talk to a lot of people. And my surreptitious judging seems quaint by comparison. There’s a whole lot of judging when it comes to parenting in general, but food in particular. And the interwebs have made it far too easy for folks comfy in their convictions to sit back and let the snark flow.

So here’s what I propose: Can we all promise to do one thing (each month?) to help increase access to good food and educate others about our food supply? Send someone to a local farm or farmers’ market or natural-foods store. Invite a friend to dinner. Tell someone about your CSA. Volunteer to teach a cooking class at a food pantry, or your church or community center. Get into your kids’ school, plant a garden and come up with ideas for increasing food literacy. Do something, anything.* Less judging, more helping.

Off to pick at the CSA farm

The start of a school year is in many ways like the start of a new year, filled with promise and renewal, beginnings and opportunities. So as the new school year approaches, let’s take the opportunity to make a difference. One way to start: Pass this on. Help other parents make good choices. Be their tipping point. Because we all were there once.

*A reader suggested volunteering to drive low-income folks to affordable grocery stores. That gave me a few more ideas (which I also shared in the comments): Research local CSAs that offer sliding scales or discounts, then pass that info on to food banks and social-service agencies. Donate excess garden produce through AmpleHarvest.org. Check with local food pantries to see if you can volunteer to glean (pick leftover crops) at a local farm.

Spoonfed is on Facebook. You’ll find links to blog posts, news and commentary on raising food-literate kids, questions and comments from readers, voices, viewpoints, the works. Stop by, like the page, chime in, spread the word. (Thanks.)

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Back from traveling. (Mostly) unpacked. (Mostly) caught up on work deadlines. Ready to get back to blogging. And I’ll start by sharing an article I wrote for the June/July issue of Kiwi magazine. It’s timely, about eating well while road-tripping. And though some of the ideas will be familiar to those who’ve read my Spoonfed posts about real food on the road and avoiding children’s menus, the article has new stuff as well. Good stuff. Tips, resources, all that.

Hope you’ve all been having summertime adventures of your own. It’s been great connecting with so many of you through the Spoonfed Facebook page (now more than 1,400 strong!). But I’m itching to get back in the blog game. More soon.

Spoonfed is on Facebook. You’ll find links to blog posts, news and commentary on raising food-literate kids, questions and comments from readers, voices, viewpoints, the works. Stop by, like the page, chime in, spread the word. (Thanks.)

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Summertime. When the living is easy, road trips entice, and that road is paved with fast food and greasy spoons. What to do, what to do.

Road trip!

As a longtime vegetarian, I’ve been bringing food on the road for years, if only a few bananas and granola bars to get me through the gauntlet of golden arches. When we started traveling with a little one, though, I needed to think bigger (and beyond the dreaded children’s menu). Which is why I now spend more time packing food than clothes.

We can’t eat on the road exactly like we do at home, but we can try.

Drink up

A staple, no matter how long the trip: stainless-steel water thermoses. We fill them with ice and water when we leave and just keep refilling along the way. I like the insulated ones because they keep water cold and don’t sweat. I also whip up a blenderful of smoothies and fill a thermos. It at least gets us through to our first destination and possibly to breakfast the next morning. Then we have an empty thermos to use later if needed.

Cool it

For short trips, we bring just a soft-sided cooler and ice packs, then transfer food to a refrigerator at the hotel or, in a pinch, an ice bucket topped with a towel and set atop the air-conditioning unit. On longer trips we bring a small hard-sided cooler. I’ve been researching coolers that plug into the car lighter (and later into a hotel wall outlet), but I really want to see options in person, to better gauge size and capacity. So that purchase is on hold until I find a good source.

I also always pack a small cooler bag for day trips. Even in situations where we can’t freeze ice packs, like when we were on a weeklong cycling and camping trip, or if we’re staying somewhere without a fridge, the bag protects food from the heat. At least for a little while.

Portable kitchen

Just the basics: a small cutting board and a knife with a protective sleeve; forks and spoons; cups (which can double as bowls); a few empty food-storage containers; some plastic baggies and cloth snack bags; paper towels and wet wipes; dish soap and a dish towel; and compact fabric grocery sacks (for shopping). Oh, and a corkscrew/bottle opener. Just sayin’.

The food

I don’t go crazy with perishables, since we restock along the way, but it’s nice to have a small reserve. Typical fare: carrot sticks and red pepper strips, clementines, grapes and apples (pre-washed), cut cheese, hummus, nut butter and whole-grain wraps. Also bags of frozen peas and berries, which my daughter loves and which double as ice packs. In the past we’ve brought frozen Stonyfield Farms squeezable yogurts as an alternative to rest-stop popsicles. I don’t like the sugar, but they’re organic and the cows are treated well and pastured. My daughter doesn’t love them, though, so they’re off the list for this summer. 

Otherwise it’s things like nuts, seeds, raisins, other dried and freeze-dried fruit, trail mix, popcorn, granola bars, whole-grain crackers and cookies, and unsweetened applesauce cups. Also cherry tomatoes and sugar snap peas if they’re in season. And still-green bananas. (If you’ve ever traveled with ripe bananas, you know why.)

For quick in-room breakfasts, I pack granola, unsweetened oatmeal packets, and whole-grain sprouted bagels or bread. Also organic milk or yogurt if we’ll have a fridge. Or sometimes I shop for milk or yogurt when we arrive. (We’ve occasionally brought shelf-stable boxes of organic milk, but we try to avoid them because they’re ultra-high-temperature (UHT) pasteurized, which basically obliterates the nutrients.)

If we’re staying someplace with a free breakfast buffet, we skip the highly processed spread, but still use the hotel’s toaster, dishes and utensils. For times when we do eat restaurant toast, I bring squeeze packets of organic peanut butter so we have a better option than margarine (fake food) or jelly cups (high-fructose corn syrup). Yes, these things occur to me. As my husband is fond of saying (fondly): “It’s not easy being you, is it?”

Basically, I pack a variety of things to serve as snacks and small meals. I don’t pack for the apocalypse. We have only so much room in the car, plus part of the fun of road trips is discovering local groceries and farmstands along the way.

Restocking

Sometimes those groceries and farmstands just pop up on the horizon, so we try to take full advantage when they do. Other times we go looking for them, which is when books like “Healthy Highways” come in handy. HH is geared toward vegetarians, but really it’s for anyone trying to eat better on the road. Organized by city within each state, it lists natural-food stores, as well as whole-food, organic and ethnic eateries. Each entry has full contact info, plus a highway exit number and driving directions. And you can get updates through the website. It’s a glovebox fixture.

Local Harvest and the Eat Well Guide are web directories that let you search by zip, city or state (or Canadian province) to find stores, farmers’ markets and restaurants selling local, sustainable and organic food, either before you leave or, if you’re traveling wired, on the road. I also check the Edible Communities publication for areas we’ll be visiting. Farmers’ markets are worth finding not only for the food — on a recent trip we managed an in-room meal of market salad greens, cheese and sweet potatoes cooked in the microwave — but also because they’re attractions in their own right.  

Eating out

Of course there are times we just want to sit and let someone else do the work. So we check restaurant listings in “Healthy Highways” or the web directories, or ask someone for a recommendation. I also like the mobile app AroundMe for finding nearby restaurants in a pinch. It’s amazing how often there’s whole-food fare just a couple miles off the highway. But if all else fails, we do what road-trippers have done for generations: pick a place that looks good and hope for the best.

How do you eat on the road? Tales to tell? Tips to share?

Also check out page 52 of the June/July issue of Kiwi magazine for a piece I wrote about eating well while road-tripping. The article has tips like these for packing your own food and finding healthy fare along the way, but also for avoiding the children’s menu rut. (Examples: Order family-style and share. And don’t be afraid to ask for substitutions, even if it costs an extra buck.)

The original version of this piece appeared on Spoonfed last June.

Spoonfed is now on Facebook. You’ll find links to blog posts, news and commentary on raising food-literate kids, questions and comments from readers, voices, viewpoints, the works. Stop by, like the page, chime in, spread the word. (Thanks.)

This post is linked into Real Food Wednesdays and Fight Back Fridays.

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Sticky situation?

We’d left school and were driving to a nearby art studio to pick up a print I’d won in a raffle. Tess was in the backseat, cranky, tired, whining about needing to pee, despite being asked that exact question at least four times before we’d left school. Not wanting to descend upon the artist with a crabby and incontinent child, I stopped at a coffee shop so she could use the bathroom.

Tess usually ignores the bakery cases in coffee shops. Not today. She was all over it, one of those kids pressing in close, breathing hot germy clouds across the glass, fingers smudging as they targeted one item after another. “What’s that?” Ten times. Maybe 20. We’d not even made it to the bathroom yet. “Come on,” I pulled her away, “you said you have to go.”

On the way back out, I stopped to buy a coffee. Probably not the smartest thing to do under the circumstances, but there you have it. And so the breathing and smudging and questioning started again.

None of the wholesome treats I always carry were good enough. And there wasn’t time to suggest a trade. I wasn’t even sure she was actually hungry. But we had to be to the art studio in a few minutes, so after quizzing the cafe staff and ruling out anything with food dyes or that had been baked off-site (since the ingredients were complete unknowns), I settled on a piece of chocolate-chip pumpkin bread. Made with tons of refined sugar and GMO canola oil, it was still the best of the bunch. And, really, I just wanted to avoid a meltdown.

But I told Tess she’d have to wait until we were in the car. And on the way to the car, I had a revelation. I wasn’t going to let her eat it. I was going to explain to her that I’d bought it only to avoid a scene, and that avoiding a scene isn’t a good reason to buy something, especially food.

So, back in the car again, that’s what I did. And here’s what she did: After expressing concern that I was going to “waste it” (legitimate, and I did feel bad about throwing it away), she said: “But, Mommy, I was just asking questions. Sometimes I just get curious about things.”

Huh. “So, if I’d just answered your questions about what everything was, and then told you that we didn’t want to buy those things because of the ingredients, you would have been OK with that?” She nodded, said an emphatic “yes” and buckled her seatbelt.

I don’t think the kid was playing me. She really was just curious. And that’s the whole point of raising a thinking eater, right? But in my haste and desperate attempt to avoid embarrassment, all I saw was a difficult child and an easy way out. And that, maybe, is a whole lot of the reason so many parents buy the candy at checkout or the Lunchable at the grocery store or the mac-and-cheese on the kids’ menu. It’s because it’s about the parent, not the kid at all.

True? Not so? And why do kids have to smooch glass anyway?

This post is linked into Fight Back Fridays, Vegetarian Foodie Fridays and Wholesome Whole Foods.

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When you blog about kids and food, people ask you questions. Especially this time of year, when sweets flow like lava and the sugar high carries you from trick-or-treats to Easter baskets. What do you do about the candy?

So here it is. The post about the candy.

Americans spend more than $2 billion a year on Halloween candy. Two. Billion.

Our Halloween night strategy is pretty simple. After trick-or-treating, costume silliness, and the obligatory ritual of dumping the haul and comparing it with friends, we divide and conquer. Anything with trans fats, high-fructose corn syrup, artificial colors or gelatin (it’s a veg thing) gets tossed. Right in the garbage. (Though last year we kept a bunch to use for decorating gingerbread houses, and that was fun.)

What’s left goes in a candy jar. Tess gets a few pieces that night, but then the jar is stored out of sight. After that, if she asks for something from the jar, we decide case by case. If she’s had other junk that day or it’s close to bedtime, no go. Otherwise we let her pick a piece. But we might dip into that thing once every month or two. It’s out of sight, so she just forgets about it.

When Tess was in preschool, and we visited just a few neighbors’ houses, we’d let her pick a piece, dump the rest and call it a night. Now she helps me sort and toss. We talk about why the ingredients are bad, how they affect our bodies, and how there are better (and tastier) alternatives anyway. We do the same with birthday-party goody bags. She’s first and foremost a chocolate girl, so we’re fortunate that most of the candy doesn’t even appeal to her. Except for Smarties, which I give a pass for food dye because they’re so pastel I figure it can’t be that much. And she eats, what, like a roll a year?

Orange you glad they make this?

But if your kids are more likely to balk at the loss of a Tootsie Pop, you can always have alternative treats on hand for trades. YummyEarth makes great-tasting lollipops. Or swap gummy candies for Annie’s fruit snacks. It’s all still sugar-sugar-sugar, but at least you avoid the other nasties.

I’ve been hearing a lot lately about Great Pumpkins and Halloween Fairies and Switch Witches and other magical creatures who come in the night and swap candy for toys. I’d rather have Tess involved in the process than avoid the conversation by letting some nighttime sprite do the deed. But I suppose the swap fairy could be fun if your kid understands why the candy goes poof. The more that children understand the reasons behind food choices, the smarter the decisions they’ll make on their own. That sounds pretty self-help cheeseball, I know, but it actually works.

So what if Tess wants to eat something we’ve put in the toss pile? We let her. Because the surest way to get a kid to appreciate real food is to let her taste the opposite. Usually a bite or two is all it takes. Which may be why I have a budding chocolate snob on my hands. Drugstore chocolate is no match for the good dark stuff.

Sticky and icky

And what do trick-or-treaters find at our door? (No, not toothbrushes. Though a dentist in my neighborhood did that when I was a kid. Bad idea.) For years we’ve done small tubs of Play-Doh, temporary tattoos, bouncy balls, pencils and notepads, that sort of thing. Last year we gave out the YummyEarth lollipops, too, if only to tip the balance in the treat bags. I know others who do mini raisin boxes, or small bags of nuts, crackers or pretzels (though you still have to label-read for crazy ingredients). Our local food co-op sells bulk ginger chews and mini fair-trade chocolate bars (also available here). And a reader, Karen, alerted me to an organization called Green Halloween that has a terrific list of treat alternatives. Love (love!) the nature items. Or you could get really radical and give away junk-food carrots. (See my previous post on that here.)

Now. Wait. Listen. Someone, somewhere, is saying some variation of this: “Sheesh. It’s Halloween. It’s one day a year. Lighten up and let the kids have their candy, already!

But, see, that’s the problem. It’s not just one day a year. It’s Halloween night and class parties and community events and then the winter holidays and Valentine’s Day and Easter and birthday parties and swimming class and soccer games and the bank and the shoe store and restaurants with kid menus and the grandparents’ house and anyplace else kids set foot, including, of course, school. The sugar culture is so strong, the highly processed foodstuffs so epidemic, that we no longer have the luxury of viewing these things in isolation. It’s not just a few Halloween treats or one blue cupcake. It’s a crushing pile of chemical-laden pseudo food. And at some point we just have to make it stop.

So yes, I say boo.

What do you think? Do you have a sweets strategy? Treat tales? Tell me how you plan to handle all that candy on All Hallows Eve.

In other Halloween news: Chipotle, the restaurant chain that tries to give fast food a good name, is sponsoring a hilarious costume contest, with proceeds benefiting Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution. Dress as your favorite ”horrifying processed food product,” go to any Chipotle after 6 p.m. on Halloween and get a meal for two bucks. Then submit a picture of yourself (in costume, in a Chipotle) and enter to win some serious cash. Love this. Not sure I’ll do it. But I love it.

This post is linked into Real Food Wednesdays, Fight Back Fridays and Vegetarian Foodie Fridays.

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So this is fun. A month ago I wrote a diatribe against children’s menus, calling them out for being unhealthy and insulting. A lively discussion ensued. Then Brian Van Etten, the chef at The Owl House, a new restaurant in Rochester, N.Y., got in touch. He wanted input on his children’s menu. I posed the question to readers. Another lively discussion all around.     

Now Brian weighs in. What did he think of our ideas? What’s realistic (and not so much)? And what is he going to feed our kids?     

First of all, thanks for the opportunity to take a glimpse into the minds of parents regarding the possibilities for the ideal children’s menu. I fully feel that the current “food revolution” is an incredibly positive vehicle for changing the way that Americans eat, as well as developing the taste buds and palates of our youngest generation of foodies.     

For as long as I can remember, kids’ menus have been basically a hodgepodge of fried foods, more often than not brought in fully cooked and frozen, then quickly reheated (deep fried!) with a side of ketchup. Restaurant owners and their chefs have treated kids’ menus as an afterthought, if that.     

Even today, while planning tonight’s dinner menu for visiting extended family, I was completely baffled as to how I was going to please the four younger eaters. My mind jumped immediately toward simple, traditional “kid food”: pizza, pasta, blah, blah, blah. Fortunately, I’ve now been given a great deal of insight into the subject, and will be taking a brand-new approach toward pleasing not only the room full of adults, but the children as well.     

Your readers brought up some great points, and also delivered on some flavorful, mostly healthy and reasonable options to feed their children. On the other hand, some of the ideas proposed are a bit out there, requiring the purchase of extensive amounts of extra product, as well as extra space, time and preparation, none of which are easy to come by in a tiny commercial kitchen composed of three people. Our goal is to balance the desires of parents with the actuality of the kitchen. We’ll do what we can, with the time and space we have, and I truly feel we can accommodate everyone, a goal that this restaurant already has gone to great lengths to meet by making the menu accessible to all diets.     

Below is a brief response to some of the comments submitted by your readers.     

First and foremost, children will be presented with a separate menu, composed of the dishes that we feel best represent our kitchen’s philosophy: fresh, from scratch, New American food.     

The general outline of the menu will be half-portions of regular options. I’m proud of the menu we’ve put together, and I have complete faith in each and every dish. We’ve put a lot of time and thought into each item, and the balancing of tastes and textures. Simply put, this is great food. By presenting the same dishes to children, we’ll be truly testing the dishes and, at the same time, delivering flavorful, intelligent dishes to all patrons.     

Easy peasy

 That said, we’re planning (a few) additional items geared toward the needs of younger eaters. In addition to our rotating variety of inventive takes on grilled cheese, a more straightforward version will always be available. (Think New York cheddar and tomato jam on Baker Street bread.) We’ll also have a similar take on a flatbread, as we’ll always have a housemade roasted-garlic marinara and some great fresh mozzarella. I’m a big fan of the nut butter/bread/fruit plate that was mentioned, and that will be a breeze to accommodate. A nice portion of housemade almond butter, some local berries and a big whack of fresh-baked baguette. For those with gluten intolerance, at all times we’ll have a housemade gluten-free bread available. We’re also making hummus here, and will be glad to substitute that for the nut butter.     

For extremely picky eaters who like what we’re offering but need something substituted, we’ll try our best. There are reasonable substitutions, and then there are those people who want restaurant kitchens to give them the world. We’ll offer what we believe to be a happy medium.     

Unfortunately, some of the ideas were a bit too extensive. Offering a “build-your-own” platter is beyond the reach of this restaurant. We hope to be consistently busy, and delivering a plate of food hand-picked and customized to one customer, young or old, won’t work. The time it takes to prep, cook and plate something of that caliber would stop a kitchen dead in its tracks, and is something that just isn’t feasible in a place this small, and with such a small staff. Just taking an order with so many options, followed by entering the order into our computer system, would be enough to throw the very delicate rhythm of a restaurant out of whack.     

Third-sized portions are also not an option. Small commercial kitchens are very thought-out and methodical in the planning and preparation of dishes. Every scrap of bread, every slice of tomato, every portion of fish, tofu or what-have-you is prepared with precision. Even halving dishes has a great risk for waste, but it’s a risk we’re willing to take in order to fulfill the majority of needs that our diners have. Offering a third-sized portion in addition just won’t work.     

In the end, we’re doing what we know best. We’re making our food, the food we love to eat and, ideally, the food that everyone, young or old, will enjoy. Dumbing down dishes, deep-frying frozen processed chicken, and melting cheese over everything just won’t satisfy the needs of young eaters, or the needs of young restaurants with a passion for creativity and flavor.     

As for that family dinner tonight? I’m making tacos. Big bowls of beautiful tomatillo salsa, lemony sour cream, bright herby guacamole, tangy red cabbage and jicama slaw, crispy tilapia, well-seasoned grilled skirt steak, roasted marinated portobellos, and a big salad with organic greens and Lively Run feta. Big, bright flavors that I believe everyone can enjoy.     

Chris here again. The restaurant opens this month. I’m all over that cheddar and tomato jam sandwich. How about you? 

This post is linked into Foodie Tots’ Local Potluck Tuesdays and Real Food Wednesdays.