A friend once told me, “When someone gives me food, I say, “thank you,” and I eat it. It’s a good policy, and one I wish my kids would try to embrace with more frequency.
A sandwich should be more than just a nutrition delivery system. A sandwich should be a celebration of life, the universe and all that is possible. Embrace Sandwich Joy. Spread the gospel of Sandwich Joy to your kids and the world. Pass the wassabi mayo.
My friend Lauren is a serious foodie. She once said if she was dating a guy who was okay with eating crappy food, that would be a deal-breaker. Some day she will make a good wife and mother.
When my sister was a little girl, all she would eat was grilled cheese. When we would go out to dinner at Pizza Hut, my Dad would always bring along a couple pieces of bread (white, natch) and a slice of cheese. He would ask the “chefs” if they could heat it up in the pizza oven, and they always obliged. Today my sister is a healthy, happy mother and contributing member of society. She seems to have fared no worse for her grilled cheese childhood.
I would like to think the local food movement applies to Five Guys.
I try to practice mindful eating. Focusing on every bite. Really tasting it. All the flavors and textures. I try to convey this concept to my kids, but they seldom have the patience for it. They seem to believe there’s some sort of badge of honor in inhaling one’s food.
When my son, B, came home from college last year, he brought a bottle of Siracha with him. Apparently, while away, he had become a fan, and now liberally applies the hot garlic sauce on all kinds of food. My wife and son, J, have been able to resist its fiery allure. I, however, have succumbed. I especially like putting Siracha on broccoli, mostly because I hate broccoli.
My kids hate kale. But because their mother is such a Nutrition Nazi, they see a fair amount of it on their plates. I’m keeping my eyes open for one of those “EAT MORE KALE” bumper stickers. I’m going to put it on my son, B’s, car. It’ll be hilarious. For me.