I've Tried Something New

I was inspired by a moment in Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution where he gave elementary school kids a sticker if they tasted a new food. The sticker said, “I’ve tried something new.” Those kids literally tried a new food that day and Jamie wanted to let them know that they did a good thing just by trying. But was the sticker just for kids? Not a chance. Jamie Oliver also gave the director of food services the same sticker when she decided that Jamie could extend his school lunch recipes beyond the first trial week. She also tried something new that day. She gave Jamie’s new and unfamiliar ideas the benefit of the doubt, and decided to give them a try.

As a parent, I often forget that it is also I who need to try something new, not just my kids. I always think about all the foods that I wish my kids would eat. But I forget that I too get lazy. I fall into the same old food patterns of least resistance and slowly stop the simple act of offering my kids new food choices. If they don’t like salmon, for example, I tend to not even offer them a bite and maybe even eat my dinner later with my husband so they may not even see me eating it.

It’s a cycle. My kids say yuck to a certain food and so eventually I stop putting it in front of them. I am only human and I too generally try to avoid rejection. But it’s a cycle which only leads to kids eating more and more limited food items. There has to be a balance – a balance between offering new food and relying on old favorites. How will my kids ever broaden their repertoire of yummy food if I stop putting it in front of them because I am afraid it will be rejected? I am assuming they won’t like a new food without even giving it a shot.

I am always talking about how parents are the best role models for children and if we want our kids to eat nutritious food, we need to do so as well. So, it’s time for me to listen to my own advice. If I want my kids to try something new, then maybe I need to as well. If I want my kids to try new food, I need to experiment with new recipes and make the commitment to simply put it in front of them. Doing new things doesn’t necessarily come naturally to me. It’s something I have to think about and then make an extra effort to complete.

Most kids have their repertoire of favorite food choices. Some eat a lot of meat but few vegetables, others a lot of pasta but little fish. My goal is to try something outside of my kids’ normal comfort zone, once a week. That’s it, nothing extreme, no tears, emotional bruises or force-feeding - just making the effort once a week to offer something new to my kids. No matter how healthy my fallback meals may be, there’s always room for improvement.

By “new” I mean a food item that my kids have never seen or tasted before, or have previously tasted and disliked, or a new combination of otherwise accepted food. I also want to bring in recipes or food items that I have not cooked before or are new to me. I don’t have time to find a complicated recipe, make a special grocery shopping trip and spend hours in the kitchen each night. But, I can spend 5 minutes picking a recipe, buy ingredients during my routine grocery shopping and prepare a new meal in under 30 minutes – no more than once a week. Maybe I also need to expand my cooking repertoire. At least that part will be fun and hopefully counteract the rejection I might face at the dinner table….

I challenge myself to offer one “new” food item each week to my kids during our family meal or as a snack. I presume most of them will be completely rejected. But the whole point is simply to try. Not to win any battles. Trying counts.

Each week I will:
1. Choose a food or recipe that my kids have not yet tried or accepted. Prepare the food item and offer it as part of the family meal or as a snack on the go.
2. Take note of my kids’ reactions to the new food. (Don’t force it, just offer and show your kids how you are eating it.)
3. Serve it again in a week or so and see if it is better received.

Of course what is a “new" food to my kids may not be to yours. Feel free to follow along my challenge or embark on your own that addresses the untouched or forgotten food on your menu.

Good luck!

Not only Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution: Episodes 1, 2 and 3

I will admit that I missed the first few episodes of Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution weekly broadcast. Sometimes life just gets too busy to do everything. However, knowing that this was not a series to be missed, I quickly caught up on www.hulu.com . I have got to say Jamie has me on the edge of my seat. On the one hand, I am blown away by the details that are specific to Huntington, West Virginia. The statistics about the health problems which prevail in this town are alarming. However Huntington is not alone. It may represent the worst case scenario, but my children’s school and my home are not so far off. I started thinking about how some of the phrases or bits of conversation spoken on the show ring true to my life and maybe also to yours. I wondered how I could bring just one aspect of Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution to you through Veggie Toddler. I decided to keep a running list of random, paraphrased bits of dialog from each episode that I find inspiring or enlightening. Enjoy.


Episode 1:

- Kids are eating chicken nuggets for lunch at school and then again for dinner. There’s something wrong with eating the same processed food for two meals in a row.

- Kids are eating only the processed food and dipping sauces on their lunch tray and throwing away the fruit and freshly made bread.

- Kids and Cooks see nothing wrong with the processed food they are eating.

- Seeing older kids and their weight problems is an indication of what happens when you surround kids with the wrong kind of food environment.

- You have to cook from raw ingredients if you want to eat healthy.

- Fresh food doesn’t stand a chance on the lunch tray when it is offered next to processed food.

- The goal is to get kids to enjoy fresh food as well as understand it.



Episode 2:

- The key is to get kids to care about what goes into their bodies.

- During the chicken nugget “experiment:”

o Jamie: “Why would you eat it if you think it’s disgusting?”

o Kids: “Because we are hungry.”

- We need to get the kids excited about what’s for lunch.

- We need to jazz up the kids and get them excited about the food they are eating.

- If kids don’t know what stuff is, they won’t eat it.

- Mrs. Blake saw a problem and fixed it. The kids couldn’t recognize vegetables so she taught them to, just like you would anything else.

- Kids can cook.

- I’ve tried something new.



Episode 3:

- The elementary school lunch has one choice. That’s it. The way it should be. So when you make a change, it’s simple.

- High school lunch has many choices. Everyone is lined up on the French fry line. No one wants salad.

- We need to create a culture where students want to choose the right food.

- Everyone’s supposed to be investing in those kids.

- About the elementary school kids eating Jamie’s food: They like broccoli as well, don’t they.

- It’s just food – without the additive and preservative stuff.

- About preparing fresh food for school lunches: We can systematize this in order to make it normal.

- Kids and teenagers react to peer pressure, both good and bad.

- The French fries count as the vegetable.

- Just because kids want French fries doesn’t mean you should give it to them.

- How often do you get to truly listen to teenagers?

- You can’t argue with teenagers.

To Juice or Not To Juice

When my toddler whined for juice, I gave it to her. Okay, hear me out. I didn’t give her liquid sugar straight up. I bought all natural juice and diluted it with water. But still, I juiced.

Oh trust me. I wanted not to juice. But if I filled my toddler’s sippy cup with water only, I risked a major temper tantrum in the middle of the grocery store. My solution: avoid toddler tantrums in public places. So when we were out and about and my toddler asked for a drink, I juiced. I handed her a sippy cup of half water, half juice. Life was good. Or so I thought.

One time we were playing at a friend’s house when the host offered my daughter a drink. “Apple juice please,” my daughter said. “Oh, we don’t have any juice, dear,” the mother responded. “What? No juice?” my daughter and I said in unison. This parent clearly didn’t juice. “Milk or water, sweetie,” I said to my daughter as I with a shaky smile as I watched her spiral into a crying fit for juice.

I decided to question my decision to juice. Whether or not I serve juice at home, juice is here to stay. The juice box is simply too brilliant an invention to disappear so fast. At every birthday party, soccer game or any place where kid’s drinks may be offered, we see the kid version of soda – the juice box. Sure, I can buy organic juice boxes, sugar-free or even ones partially filled with water. Even still, it’s juice.

Should I pretend juice doesn’t exist and then hope for the best when one day someone hands my toddler a Capri Sun? Won’t that only make her want it more? I don’t let my kids drink soft drinks yet I notice my 5 year old has an imaginary friend named, Soda. Coincidence? Maybe so.

As much as I think it’s important for kids to appreciate the taste of water – straight up, I also don’t think it’s a parenting crime to indulge a toddler in a little juice now and then. That said there happens to be one problem with toddler “indulgences.” They start out as innocent now and then luxuries but quickly reveal an enormous iceberg of unwanted behavior lurking below.

My toddler crossed the magic line of indulging in a little juice now and then to ONLY drinking juice. Yes, my daughter had developed a juice problem and it was my responsibility to intervene. “We may no longer be friends,” I thought, “but at least she will be off the juice.” My goal was to limit her juice-consumption to meals or special occasions. Every day hydration needed to come from water.

I geared myself up for the fight of my life. And then I procrastinated and put it off another day. “I’ll get her to kick the habit tomorrow,” I thought as I poured more juice. Then one rainy day we were at an indoor play space when we ran out of juice. “More drink, mommy!” my daughter said to me holding up her empty thermos cup. “Now is as good a time as any,” I thought as I braced myself for the long overdue juice battle.

“I don’t have any more juice,” I said to my thirsty daughter. “If you want something to drink there is a water fountain over there.” Pause. “Can I fill up my thermos myself?” she asked. “Sure,” I responded, still gripping my chair, awaiting the anticipated tantrum. “Okay,” she said as she ran off towards the drinking fountain.

To my surprise and utter disbelief, my daughter filled her thermos not once, but twice, and in between came over to tell me how delicious the water tasted. “Huh?” I thought replaying the sequence of events in my head in order to figure out how my daughter all of a sudden transformed into a water-lover. “Once we get home,” I thought, I’m sure she will fall off the water wagon and demand juice.”

I played my role as parent on a mission and started filling her thermos with water every day. She whined and complained but I held strong. Then, one day the complaining stopped and I didn’t know why. I walked into the kitchen one afternoon and found my daughter standing on her step stool, the refrigerator door wide open and pouring herself some cold water from our purified water dispenser.

“Getting some water?” I casually asked my daughter as if finding her propped up inside of the refrigerator was no big deal. “Yup, I’m thirsty,” she explained, clearly proud of herself for satisfying her desire for a drink on her own. “Independence,” I thought. That was the key to getting my daughter to kick her juice habit.

Am I a bad parent because I let juice-drinking spiral out of control? No, I’m pretty sure this happens to a lot of parents, if not over juice, then something else. I don’t think good parenting is about being perfect. No one’s perfect. Maybe good parenting is about recognizing when your child’s behavior has crossed the magic line to become a bad habit and having the strength to change it.

Today, I don’t juice, but I also don’t NOT juice. We have found a balance and juice a little, just for fun.

Dada at the Dinner Table

I always knew my art history classes would come in handy. Art imitates life, or is it life imitates art? However it goes, I have always thought that art helps me to understand the world I live in. But I never could have guessed it would shed light on the activity happening right at my own kitchen table.


When I was pregnant, and even after my newbie arrived, I imagined our family dinners to look something like an impressionist painting. The main course is recognizable as such and prominently featured like the figure in a Renoir or Degas. On close examination, the actual make up of the meal, like the color and brush strokes of an impressionist painting, may combine casually thrown together side dishes. However if I stand back and squint, like a good Monet, I can make out a well-balanced meal.

Then my baby becomes a toddler and my idealized image of family dinner vanishes like a popped balloon. All of a sudden my daughter won’t taste any food that is combined with any other food. She may love peas and pasta but only if they remain in their own confined spaces on her highchair tray.

So I quickly shift art movements to abstract expressionism. I think Mondrian where the red, blue, white and yellow are organized and kept from bleeding into each other with distinct black lines. “A purist,” another mom explains to me. I understand immediately as I watch my toddler gobble up rice and black beans that each sit in their own distinct bowl.

“It all goes to the same place,” I argue with my now 3 year-old.
“But it doesn’t taste good together,” my daughter responds.

Fast forward another year or so, sitting at the dinner table with my 5 year-old daughter and 3 year-old son. “Look mommy, I can stand the carrots up on their ends and make buildings,” says my son. Meanwhile my daughter is talking to a piece of steamed sweet potato who is asking to come over for a play date.

“Dada,” I think. You know, the art movement where Duchamp took a urinal, turned it upside down and called it a fountain? I am not a fan of playing with your food. When my kids start smearing and smashing their dinner, a la Jackson Pollock, I always bring out the “no dessert” threats.

“Should I let this continue,” I think to myself as my son builds a city of carrots and then eats each one. I look over and my daughter’s sweet potato chunk is now sharing toys with another piece on its way to her mouth.

“They ARE eating their dinner,” I reason as I sit back and enjoy a little Dada at the dinner table.

Imaginary Parenting

I don’t know if you are watching the new television series called, Parenthood. I mean, what a great idea for a show. They will never run out of material! I can imagine the un-made Seinfeld episode now. Seinfeld’s fellow comedian friend would become a parent in order to experience the endless supply of mishaps, unexpected dialog and humorous situations. “He did it for the jokes,” Seinfeld would complain.

All kidding aside, Parenthood is proving to be a great show. Last week one couple finds that their son has Aspergers, which is a form of autism. Throughout the episode the boy wants to wear a pirate costume, against his parents’ wishes. Eventually a doctor tells the parents that they need to join their son in his world. At the end of the show, during the instrumental emotional conclusion of the episode’s stories, the father is shown playing with his son in the backyard. Both father and son are dressed as pirates and run around the yard, on the look-out for other ships.

It is a beautiful moment, but it gets me thinking. Why does a father wait until his son is diagnosed with Aspergers before he joins him in his imaginary play? All kids, whether they are autistic or not, would benefit from their parent entering their imaginary world in order to play together.

I recently had to sell my green station wagon which is the only car my kids have known as our family car. I explain to my kids over and over again how a nice lady came and bought my green car and will give it a nice new home. We “adopt” a gray station wagon as our new family car and “welcome” it into our life. It doesn’t go over so well. For two weeks my 3 year old bursts into tears whenever riding in the new car, “I miss the green car!” Then my 5 year old joins in, “when is the lady going to give it back?” “Oh she’s going to keep it,” I try to explain. “WHAT? She is going to KEEP our car for ever and ever?” they chime in together. More tears.

I’m doomed, I think. So in order to stop the crying for the long gone, green car I say to my kids, “this car comes with a special feature that the old car didn’t have.” “It does? What?” they say between sniffles. “A Fly button.”

“Press it!” says my daughter. “We want to fly!” says my son. So I press the imaginary button and say, “Hold on tight, here we go up and up and up!” We rise up off the street, above the trees and say “Hi” to the birds. We look down at the tiny houses, cars and people below us. We take a ride on a cloud and reach our hands toward the sun. As we approach our preschool, we hold on tight and come in for a smooth landing in the parking lot.

“We flew here!” my daughter tells her teacher as we walk in the door. I chuckle and try to explain. “Oh, how fun,” the teacher responds but I’m not sure what she is thinking.

The next day we get in the car and my son asks where we are going. “To school,” I say for the tenth time that morning. “Can we fly there?” he asks. “Sure thing, hold on tight,” I say with smile. There’s no more talk of missing the green car. When we find ourselves in traffic or even when it’s raining, we just press the fly button and experience a whole new world above the clouds.

I can’t picture being a parent without embracing imaginary play. It helps me to understand my kids as well as assist them to work through tough issues like selling a family car. We should all strive to play pirates in the back yard. You never know when you will spot another ship on the horizon.

Peer Pressure Points

I have never been a fan of peer pressure. Usually it involves some sort of emotional stress, fear of being different and doing something you didn’t want to do. Nothing good comes of peer pressure, right? Well, a little bit might be just the thing to get your kid to taste a previously detested food.

Steak. My 5 year-old daughter has never tasted steak. I love steak. But she prefers to get her protein from black beans and lentils. Okay, that’s fine. Not everyone has to love steak or even eat it. If she grows up to be a vegetarian, I will support her, no question. But it would be nice if she could, just once, humor me and taste a piece of steak. At the dinner table, I never pressure her but always offer a tiny taste of my steak. The answer is always “NO! Steak, Yuck!” accompanied by a turned head and scrunched up face to complete her point. “Okay, maybe next time,” I say brushing it off as no big deal.

The other night we had an impromptu 5 year-old dinner party: my 5 year-old daughter, two 5 year-old neighbors, my 3 year-old son, and I. Everyone is seated at the table together, excited for whatever food is to come “Who wants rice?” I ask with the pot of rice in my hands. “Me!” “Me!” “Me!” “Me!” “Okay,” I continue, “Who wants broccoli?” “Me!” “Me!” “Oh, okay.” “No thanks.” “Okay,” I continue, “you can have steak or you can have black beans or both.” “Beans,” says my daughter. “Beans,” says my son. “Steak,” says one neighbor. “Steak,” says the other neighbor.

As we eat our dinner together, sounds of “Yum, Steak!” keep coming from the two neighbors. I see my daughter starts to notice. “Can I have a bite?” she asks, wanting to join the steak-loving club. “Sure,” I say nonchalantly as I cut her a tiny piece. “Mmmmm, yum, more steak please!” she says to me with a smile and her fork in the air. I happily serve her and her friends more bite-sized pieces of steak.

“Wow,” I think to myself. “We may have found a peer pressure point tonight.” Don’t get too excited. Peer pressure can have the opposite effect on your child at the dinner table as well. During this same dinner I offer spinach salad, something my daughter usually gobbles up. But tonight, after both of her friends turn their noses with a “yuck,” my daughter follows suit and passes on the spinach.

The uneaten spinach doesn’t bother me. I know spinach is a food my daughter likes so not eating it one night is no big deal. But to get my daughter to taste a food that she usually refuses to even so much as lick? Now that’s exciting.

My 3 year-old, on the other hand, remains oblivious to any peer pressure in the air. He happily goes about his own meal eating two portions of rice, broccoli, black beans, and yes, spinach salad. His peer pressure point to taste steak will be pressed on another night, I’m sure.

Mamsaurus Rex, the Carnivore

Dinosaur Train, a relatively new addition to the morning PBS Kids television line-up, is a cartoon about a Pteranodon family with an adopted Tyrannosaurus Rex. This motley crew takes family trips on the Dinosaur Train to learn about other dinosaurs and visit them in their prehistoric habitat. The Time Tunnel marks the train’s passage through time, acknowledging the different periods in which dinosaurs lived. Dinosaur Train combines children’s love of dinosaurs, trains and sense of adventure into a fun, 30-minute show for kids.

Both my 3 year old boy and 5 year old girl love to run around the house re-enacting the preschool-age, dinosaur characters, Tiny, Shiny and Buddy. They jump on and off the train. “All aboard!” they shout as they pull their arms down blowing the pretend whistle in the air. They go on fishing adventures and flying escapades. They learn about which dinosaurs swim, fly, walk on four legs, run on two legs, or have spikes or long tails.

My kids also learn about what dinosaurs eat for lunch. To my surprise, this ancient reptile insider scoop is my children’s favorite obsession. Both my kids from the time they could pick up food with their fingers, loved to eat vegetables. They can relate to the herbivores munching on leaves and plants. But what about the Pteranodon family fishing for their supper? Ever since Dinosaur Train hit PBS my kids have been questioning the fish on my dinner plate. “Really, that’s fish?” my 5 year old exclaims. “It doesn’t look like fish.” “You eat fish?” “How did you catch it?” asks my 3 year old. And so the string of tough questions begin; how fish goes from alive in the water to lifeless on our kitchen table. I don’t mind the inquisition. I am sure my children’s curiosity is age-appropriate. I just won’t expect them to taste my fish any time soon.

My real concern is when my kids find out what Buddy, the preschool-age T-Rex, eats for lunch. I haven’t watched every episode with my kids but, so far, I haven’t heard any mention of what’s in T-Rex’s lunchbox. “Meat,” my kids say. “Buddy eats meat and fish.” They know fish and have seen the dinosaurs catch and eat them. But meat – what is that exactly? The show teaches kids about our similarities and differences, yet skirts around a basic fact of life. T-Rex is a carnivore. He eats other dinosaurs.

I have only recently gotten my daughter to eat a hamburger. Meat has never rated high on either of my kids’ yummy list. I strive to teach by example so I always hope that if they see me eating meat, one day they too will want some. However, since Dinosaur Train, I get the feeling that my days are numbered. If seeing Pteranodons swooping in to make a kill for their fish dinner sends them into a flurry of questions about what I am eating, what will she think of my steak?

Don’t get me wrong. I love the show. It has catchy music, adorable animation and everyone learns to play together. I simply dread the day Buddy, the adopted T-Rex, realizes who he is and what he eats. Maybe my fears are for nothing. Maybe PBS has it all under control and, like a good soap opera, will keep up the search for Buddy’s true nature, throughout its broadcast run, without resolution.