Hope in the Kitchen
Reclaiming Mealtime from the Mayhem
From Overwhelmed to Empowered
I’m a dad who’s both loved and hated cooking. After my eldest child was born, I decided to get a puppy so I could stop bending over to pick up Cheerios. Cooker of most meals in my household for the past 17 years, I burned out on kitchen duties about seven years ago. With no choice but to redefine my relationship with the kitchen, I developed numerous strategies and philosophies that helped me survive the kitchen to raise kids who are healthy and enjoy food.
Despite all the fads, evolving science, and cultural values that influence what we eat, the goal of parenting has remained remarkably consistent throughout human existence: care for your children.
Unlike our ancestors, who had predators and scarcity to contend with, our challenge is managing the abundance of choices. From fast food to slow food, it can sometimes feel like there is too much choice. Organic, adaptogens, local, natural, biodynamic… A dizzying number of products, marketing campaigns, and fads are competing for our dollars and our health.
Decision burnout leads to all-or-none thinking. Some of us aspire to create culinary masterpieces that take up most of a Saturday, while the rest of us decide to get takeout or throw another Costco pizza in the oven.
Master the Art of Simplifying Mealtime
Stop overthinking it
Work smarter, not harder. There was a time when I followed the recipe exactly, and I would exhaust myself doing so. Peel the potatoes? Yes. Trim green beans? Sure thing. Let that dough cool in the fridge for 45 minutes? Ok…
The problem with unquestioningly following a recipe’s instructions or simply the tradition of a recipe is that the words written are there simply “because.”
Two outcomes emerged out of my blind faith in recipes. First, I exhausted myself by following the recipe to a “t.” Second, I stopped cooking recipes that contained steps that added to the already burdensome dinner chores. Neither option was sustainable. “Because” is no longer a justifiable reason for doing something in my kitchen.
Why Skipping Steps Can Save Your Sanity (And Your Time)
To Peel or Not to Peel
So, I started thinking for myself and taking shortcuts that no one noticed. For example, I used to peel potatoes before finely chopping them in a food processor for potato latkes. Then, one day, I stopped, and no one, not even people who’ve been eating latkes their entire lives, noticed. Eliminating that single step ten years ago has saved me about 30 hours of kitchen time with no consequences.
Greenbean Kickstarter
Another example is trimming green beans. One day, I stopped. I now steam green beans with the stems on, and diners are welcome to remove the stems themselves. I think of it as a green bean Kickstarter: everyone contributes a little to have a great meal.
No Broccoli? No Problem! The Freedom of Ingredient Substitutions
Destroy the ingredient list
There have been way too many times when I bent over backward to get a specific ingredient or didn’t make a recipe because I was missing something. Well, I no longer do that, which may upset some traditionalists. If I’m making beef and broccoli, but I’m missing broccoli, then I’ll substitute it with snow peas or green beans. Will it taste exactly as the chef who authored the recipe intended? Nope. But the recipe will be made nonetheless, albeit with substitutions, and people will enjoy it.
You’re not a short-order cook: Farm animal philosophy
When my children started eating real food, subtle taste differences emerged. One may like apple sauce, the other pureed carrots. The same applied to solid foods; one may like peanut butter and jelly, the other grilled cheese.
At first, it’s innocuous; it’s perfectly normal for individuals to have unique taste preferences. The problem is that if we honor these preferences, we begin a self-fulfilling cycle where we become short-order cooks who multiply the number of hours in the kitchen by a factor of two or even three.
Think about it: if you need to make a PB&J for one child and a grilled cheese for another, then something else entirely for yourself, that’s three separate meals to prepare. The logistics, dishes, attention, and time are all multiplied by a factor of three. Compare this to simply making three grilled cheeses assembly-line fashion. Bread, cheese, then throw on the pan: quick and straightforward.
Years ago, I decided to raise some pigs. I raised them for food, and they lived bucolic lives on a five-acre pasture in the Champlain Valley of Vermont. One year, my pigs stopped eating grain. They didn’t appear sick; they drank water and were as energetic as the day I brought them home as eight-week-old piglets. I concluded they didn’t like the new grain I was trying to feed them.
I returned to the grain store and told the employee about this observation. A more experienced pig farmer than I, he said that the grain was good and I just needed to give it a couple of days. “If they’re hungry, then they’ll eat.”
I waited another day. On the second day, I woke up early to check on the pigs. I walked quietly out of the house and into the meadow just as the sun peeked over the horizon. The pigs were eating happily out of their trough. The pig farmer was right, and I realized I only needed a little patience.
This means that when I feed my kids a meal, and they initially turn it away, telling me they don’t want it or “won’t” eat it, I’m okay with that. I’ve never made my children eat anything. They’re welcome to have more of whatever else is being served and avoid the problematic item. If they don’t like anything on their plate, that’s fine, too; my response is, “That’s fine. You don’t have to eat.”
Nine times out of ten, they eventually eat the meal they initially refused. And I don’t entice them with promises of dessert or other rewards for eating. If they don’t eat anything at that meal, I’m okay with that, knowing that they’ll be hungrier at the next meal, where I’ll also serve nutritious options.
We think we are being helpful, but when we cater to the preferences of our children, beginning in infancy, we do three things:
1. We deny them the full flavor profiles of foods, limiting what foods are familiar to a small number they initially gravitate to for whatever reason.
2. We limit their life experience by limiting foods.
3. We burn ourselves out and make the overall experience around cooking and mealtime unpleasant for everyone.
Finding the balance between cooking responsibilities is less about perfection and more about creativity and a willingness to challenge traditions and improvise. Understanding that balance has helped me change my relationship with meal preparation and brought hope and joy back into my kitchen. Give one of these ideas a try and let me know how it goes for you.
Speaking my language, Jesse! Couldn’t agree with any of this more. My kids are more liable to not want to eat most things than not right now — we just tell them they don’t have to eat it if it’s on their plate, they just have to look at it. And, usually, it gets nibbled on — and often scarfed — by the end of the meal.
For a lot of those time-savers, Tim Ferriss’s “4-hour Chef” was an eye-opener.
Man, this article hit at a really good time for me brother. Thank you 👊🏻