Stick Out Your Tongue and Say "Blech!"

I do hope everyone is getting their eggs boiled for deviled eggs tomorrow evening. Don't skimp on the paprika either-that's crucial to a good deviled egg.

This lovely little book (of which I inexplicably have two, and no memory of purchasing either) is filled with all manner of disgusting mid-sixties delights. I won't be preparing anything from this publication. I might stuff some celery with cream cheese if I'm feeling ambitious. I really hope to be in bed by nine.

I grew up in a household where deception, in respect to food, was rather routine. Those horrible cookbooks that suggest hiding beets and spinach in your children's desserts-my mum was decades ahead on that idea. Except for the dessert part because she didn't bake. Still, if she knew you hated something it was more likely than not to end up on your plate in a not-terribly convincing disguise. My dad detested tinned tuna but it didn't stop my mother from using it mixed into her salmon cakes. They were mostly tuna. I don't believe this was a cost saving measure on her part, but rather an oddity she had of convincing people they really liked something they didn't. I still really hate cucumbers, particularly when they are cooked with fish.

I don't play that game at Chez Eat The Blog. I respect the fact that Danny loathes butternut squash (he'll eat the others) and I don't attempt to sneak it into cupcakes. I can't think of anything more disrespectful (OK, sure-it isn't up there in the disrespect rankings with say, screwing your mistress in your wife's bed, but it is still kind of awful) than disregarding the knowledge that someone has an aversion to a food, and serving it anyway because you think they should eat it. You know, this isn't Ireland in the 1800's. We're permitted a whole, wide variety of foods to chose from. Leaving one or two off the menu rotation isn't the end of the world. Sure, if eating butternut squash were the only thing standing between my child and starvation, I'd make him eat it. I probably wouldn't have any flour or sugar to disguise it in cupcakes.

Off topic but semi-related in the strange way my mind works-have any of you seen the movie Delicatessen? Sure, it was a funny movie, but you still wouldn't like it if your butcher was making sausage from body parts. Would You?

The point (yeah, there's a point. Don't be such a smartass) is that it is the height of arrogance to charge oneself with the role of deciding another's tastes. Of course I expose Danny to new and varied foods-but I absolutely do not lie to him about what it is...because he trusts me not to. That's it really, you don't abuse the trust people give you. Let's face it, eating someone else's cooking involves a great deal of trust anyway.



Perhaps that's why I find this so terribly offensive:

I mean, tongue isn't exactly for everyone (though in my pre-vegetarian days growing up, I loved it). But don't worry, they won't suspect it. Make sure it is well-flavoured...they won't know a thing.

I'll stick to the deviled eggs and sardines on toast for New Year's Eve, thanks ever so much.