Today was one of those sunny, crisp, early spring days in Chicago when you are dying to be outside yet still feel the bite of wind sinking its teeth into your still dry skin. Nonetheless, we bundled up in layers of sweatshirts and jackets, having optimistically put the winter coats away last week, and headed southwest to the Brookfield Zoo. Amidst the wind and chill, we all enjoyed our time, with Nooa beaming at the manic monkeys and sleepy tigers. On our way back into the city, the boys fell fast asleep in the back, and Nalin pulled over to check his iPhone for directions to a French bakery in Logan Square. He had received a Tasting Table update about this bakery and was interested in checking it out, since we were close by. La Boulangerie is a lovely French bakery, serving crepes, pastries, assorted breads, etc., with a bit of a French general store of jams, spreads, cookies, cocoas, and more peppered throughout the corner store. A tad hungry after our modest packed lunch of turkey and cheddar sandwiches and apple slices, which we gobbled at the zoo, I selected a Prairie crepe with brie, spinach, balsamic glaze, and pecans, along with a San Pellegrino Aranciata. With Nalin waiting in the car with the sleeping beauties, I browsed the bakery while my crepe was being made before my eyes. The long, thick strips of brie placed atop the chestnut-colored crepes got me thinking of an article Nalin sent me a few days earlier. In it, James Coomarasamy, BBC Paris correspondent, recalls how, during an early doctor's visit for his young daughter, his Parisian pediatrician gave him a "prescription" that suggested adding blue cheese to her diet. When he later asked the doctor about the specific medicinal qualities of the blue cheese, the pediatrician simply stared at him, stating that there was nothing medicinal, rather, it was to get her "used to the taste."
This is a fascinating idea, and one which seems to have such interesting cultural components. The concept of what one's child likes or doesn't like is highly random, or is it? Young mothers sit around talking about the fact that their love of watermelons or grapefruit during pregnancy must be the reason for their child's inordinate desire for watermelons or grapefruit (or, let's face it if we are honest about most pregnancies, french fries or milkshakes). I do believe, although I lack any scientific data (and frankly am lazy to do the research at this late hour) to back up this claim, that what we eat during pregnancy to some degree and what we expose our children to early at a larger degree does have effects on their taste. My sons have never been that crazy about cheese by itself per se (and Nalin and I devoured the delicious crepe before they awoke from their naps to taste it themselves), but when they have had cheese, it has usually been some form of sharp cheddar, gruyere, or triple cream cheese, which they happily eat in quesadillas, paninis, or fish stews. Again, I think the key is exposing them to the things that we eat and hope they will eat as they grow. One of my best friends, Heike, who is from Germany, has always followed this rule with her kids as well. Rather than going with a typically American "first food" regiment after six months of rice cereal, she incorporated a more German approach, introducing vegetables first in segmented color groups (greens, then oranges—I may have the order wrong, but you get the idea). Prior to a year of age, her daughter and son were both eating vegetables like crazy, along with snacks of rye bread with hummus, grapefruit and melon, and a variety of other wonderful foods. Her children who are the same ages as mine have a diverse palette because of this, I am sure.
Back home again and more than a little tired from a long weekend, I turned to the fridge to see what to make for dinner. Browsing the contents, I was relieved to see quite a few leftovers from the two to three previous days' meals: rice, dal, and potatoes from an Indian meal on Thursday night; tofu fried rice and massaman curry from Friday night's Thai takeout; Nalin's homemade congee from Thursday lunch. Plenty to go around for the four of us. I whipped up some simple guacamole with lemon, salt, and cumin from some nearly too-ripe avocados for the boys. As I sat there watching my sons eating their tofu and fried rice and guacamole with eager abandon, I could not help but compare their response now to earlier in the day with the turkey sandwiches. I had mentioned that "we gobbled them up," but by "we," I meant Nalin and I, mainly out of hunger. Nooa and Ettu were not that impressed. They always much prefer some variation of rice to any cold sandwich, homemade or otherwise. Perhaps this is their "taste." And one I never realized we had necessarily prescribed.