One of the joys of having a child is reliving your own childhood. As a kid, some of my fonder memories were of strawberry and apple picking with friends and family. They were seasonal joys that, come to think of it, didn’t seem like they would be remembered years later. It was just something to do.

And so it was last weekend when my husband and I and a couple of friends took Zyla apple picking at Outhouse Orchards in North Salem. We had taken Zyla before—last year when she was about six months and the year before that when she was in the womb—but this time proved more fun. She’s almost 19 months now and watching her try to pick an apple off the tree or attempt to eat a half-eaten one off the ground can be very entertaining. Not to mention, watching her try to hoist a satchel full of fresh-picked goods to show us that she can do her part. I forget—but am promptly reminded every day—that everything is a new possibility for her.

We forget as we age that simple things like picking apples can be wholesome, learning experiences. I didn’t know that then but I know that now that I have a daughter. I suspect we will continue the tradition until she’s reached the age when hanging out with her parents is not cool. As my 16-year-old niece said to me when we invited her—and politely declined—”apple picking is for young families.”

I’ve seen this video before and always meant to blog on it, but kept forgetting. So when I saw it today, I knew I had to run right over here to ice cream and share it with you.

Frankly, this isn’t just for the kiddies. I know my husband would probably like this, too. And it’s basically my favorite diner breakfast (except no hash browns, which I like extra-crispy).

Enjoy.

Really Fast, Really Easy, Really Tasty – video powered by Metacafe

My sister is coming to visit next week, and her trip out to the East Coast will coincide with her birthday.

So my daughters and I were on line yesterday trying to figure out what to get her that she’ll like, that won’t take up space on the airplane on her way back and that won’t become just another dustable (so much for the 300 pound giraffe sculpture idea).

As we looked at screen after screen from several gift-suggestion Web sites and found nothing that piqued our interest, my youngest suggested we try food.

And that led us to the site that coordinates ”(food) of the month” clubs, from desserts of the month and fruit of the month to salsa of the month and—our favorite and possibly our choice—cheeseball of the month.

“How did you guys get by without the Internet?” asked my oldest, as she scrolled through the site to get prices and options.

Since I didn’t have my Official Luddite baseball cap handy, I just smiled and said we managed. But I had to agree that living in a world with the Cooking Channel, (food) of the month club Web sites and immediate research on food available through Google, Dogpile, Yahoo and other search engines certainly is an advantage to anybody interested in food these days.

Apple crisp cinnamon graham crumb cream cheese dip, anyone?

The smitchiks and I spent the day at a friend’s house on Long Island, and for lunch she made pasta for the three — my two boys and her daughter, who’s almost a year older than Rafael.

Rafael, of course, declared he wasn’t hungry when asked, but my friend’s no fool and was making enough for all even before Rafaelito came out with, “I’m HUN-gry.” She and I just looked at each other and laughed.

So, the pasta was boiling and almost ready when my friend asked the terrible trio whether they wanted butter or cheese on their noodles. (She buys elbow pasta and makes her own mac & cheese when needed.)

Honestly, I wondered, “butter?”

But her daughter is kind of a picky eater (I mean, she doesn’t like chocolate!), and, sure enough, likes butter on her pasta. Then, about halfway through the bowl, she switches to cheese.

My boys, of course, like cheese.

The three of them, sitting side-by-side on the floor on a sheet, each eating from his or her bowl of mac & cheese (or butter) in a makeshift picnic in the living room — some memories you know you’ll just treasure.

Whenever I have a little free time — you know, all those vast hours of uninterrupted space and time afforded mothers of small children everywhere — one of my favorite things to do is check in with a few of my favorite food blogs. 

I’ve come across a great new bookmark — Chocolate and Zucchini by French foodie, blogger and author Clotilde Dusoulier.

It has nothing to do with helping you feed your kids or getting a healthy meal on the table in 30 minutes or less. It’s just pure enjoyment of food and leisure. I haven’t even tried a recipe yet — I’m still stuck on the gorgeous pictures from her trip to Croatia. Here’s a photo diary from the trip. Amazing.

You can almost imagine what it’s like to be a 29-year-old impossibly chic Parisian food writer (aren’t they all?) lazing about for a week or two on the shores of the Adriatic.

For weeks I’ve been trying to wean my little son off these scrumptious bagel crisps we buy at BJs. Because they’re made of bleached flour and are high in fat, I try and discourage him from eating them, even while I steal a couple myself every now and then.

He doesn’t give in easily, though. He’ll walk into the kitchen with his arms raised, crying “Mom, cracker … cracker.” At one point a couple of months ago, I decided to put my foot down. For a while, let him cry big, fat tears. Then he seemed to forget about them.

He remembered the bagel crisps “crackers” a couple of days ago during a very difficult dinner. He didn’t want anything I offered him — chicken, broccoli, a piece of ham, celery, strawberries, cheese, couscous. You name it he didn’t want it. He just wanted the crackers, and he screamed for them.
After a few strained minutes (during which my husband muttered about how difficult  it had become for us to eat a normal family meal), I decided to give in, or rather, to use the crackers as a negotiating tool. So while he nibbled on his cracker, I fed him chicken, broccoli, couscous and strawberries. I was surprised by how much he ate. And he ate only a couple of the bagel crisps.

All of which led me to think think that it isn’t such a bad idea to give in once in a while. In the larger scheme of things, what is some bleached flour and a little fat fat if the trade-off is a decent meal for your child. And your sanity, what!

I was in Borders the other day and this book caught my attention, “Eat This, Not That! For Kids,” by David Zinczenko and Matt Goulding. I quickly perused it and found some interesting tidbits about what better choices to make when dining at fast-food and chain restaurants, in addition to healthier buys at the supermarket. The book follows the bestseller, “Eat This, Not That!”

While the book doesn’t claim that fast-food is healthy, here’s what Zinczenko said in a recent USA Today article:

 …it comes down to the lesser of several evils. The average American driving down the highway doesn’t have any place that offers a wide variety of low-calorie, highly nutritious foods.
Our goal isn’t to advocate or legitimize any fast-food diet but rather to help families make the smartest decision possible in any given eating situation including the rather grim ones that many chain restaurants offer.

I don’t take Zyla to fast-food joints but I do occasionally throw frozen foods (Amy’s vegetable pot pies and burritos) in the cart, along with cereal bars and other processed snacks (animal crackers). My interest in the book was mostly fueled by the fact that seemingly healthy fare, like salads or grilled chicken sandwiches, can pack some serious calories, fat and sodium. Admittedly, I was more interested in it for me than my daughter.

For example, who would have thought that a roast beef sandwich at Subways has far less calories and fat than the tuna sub? The same can be said for a McDonalds quarter pounder and its premium grilled chicken club.

The Eat This Web site also rates kid-friendly eateries and it’s surprising to see the results. Cosi (that awesome salad and sandwich bar) scored a D- while Ben and Jerry’s a C +. Huh??? The ratings are based on calorie loads and apparently there are many single serving scoops under 250 calories than Cosi offerings under 500 calories. But one’s a meal and another, ice cream, so don’t think you can truly compare. Either way, the pepperoni pizza at Cosi has 911 calories. Yikes!!! Perhaps this book had something to do with Cosi suddenly offering a “Lighten Up” menu.

But my all-time favorite was Baskin Robbins Heath shake ringing in at a whopping 2,300 calories.

Check out the Eat This Web site for more interesting finds.

While rooting around in the basement a few days ago, I came across my mother’s good china.

My mother, like many of her generation, had several different sets of dishes: everyday pottery, good china and what we called “bank” china because she purchased a piece from the bank every time she made a deposit.

This wasn’t the bank china, which went to my niece on my mother’s death last year. My oldest got my mom’s “good” china with its gray and silver rose pattern on white, and since she’s still at home pending finding an apartment, the china is in the basement in its coverings.

We seldom used the good china, now I come to think of it. We used the bank china for most special events since the good china was—well—too good to use.

My own good china, purchased about five years ago on a whim, isn’t quite as privileged. When I feel like it, I drag it out for our normal sunday dinner. It’s a pain to hand wash it, but I figure the only way my three will be comfortable in fancy settings is to get them used to it at home.

I hope, when my oldest gets her own place, that she feels the same way about my mom’s good china that I feel about my own. I’d like to think it’s being used, and not just kept in its coverings to pass on to her own heirs.

I have to admit, my children generally eat pretty healthy.

Yes, we give them animal crackers. They get chocolate sometimes, but it’s dark chocolate. And the milk they drink is organic.

The problem is greens. In the past, we used to be able to get our children to eat more greens.

Both were really into peas at various points, but that seems to have faded.

My four-year-old was really into olives and even ate asparagus, but since he emerged from his extremely picky stage, he hasn’t accepted them back into his diet.

We’ve gotten lucky that he will eat raw red cabbage and carrots. But they’re not green now, are they?

I worry sometimes that we rely on grains, dairy and meat (and sometimes chicken) for the overwhelming majority of their calories. Both our little guys are huge carnivores. And the bread they eat is whole wheat, multi-grain or bakery-made; no Wonder bread here. Their cereal is either Cheerios or Honey Bunches of Oats.

Yes, they do drink juice and yes, they do eat certain fruits. Bananas, grapes, blueberries; Markus will eat raisins, though Rafael doesn’t like them anymore. But that brings me back to my original point: how is it that my children avoid virtually all greens (the grapes they prefer are red).

Trader Joe’s stores sell long-cut French green beans that are — I think — flash-frozen (when we defrost them, they are crisp, so I don’t think they were sitting around for long before freezing).

That seems to be the one in with Rafael, the four-year-old. He’ll eat them. And if — and only if — there’s peanut butter on it, he’ll also eat celery. Unfortunately, celery has virtually no redeeming nutritional value. It’s basically water with a little bit of fiber. And he already gets lots of fiber from all the grains he eats.

He always wants to try salad, but he’ll take a bite of the lettuce, wrinkle his nose and spit it out onto his plate. We keep letting him try it, in the hopes that one day, some day, he’ll actually eat it.

So this is the plan: walk around the supermarket produce department with Rafael and let him pick out a couple of greens he thinks he’d like to try. If he picks it out, maybe he’ll actually try it.

Stay tuned.

Photo via SXC.hu.

Every couple of months, we drive down to Oak Tree Road, a street in New Jersey that straddles the municipalities of Edison and Iselin, for a slice of Little India.

A land where the grocery store aisles are crowded with women dressed in sarees, speaking a multitude of Indian languages. They jostle to sniff and squeeze vegetables they’ve been denied by their local A&Ps, and all of a sudden, I am transported back to the general chaos that is Mumbai’s bustling Dadar market.

Drumsticks (the green pods of the Moringa tree) vie for shelf space next to fenugreek leaves, ridge gourds cozy upto white pumpkins and the latest Bollywood music thumps through the speakers, lending to my faux India experience.

Nostalgia takes hold every single time, and we walk out of the store with our cart overflowing with Maggie Noodles, Glucose biscuits, Tutti-Frutti ice cream and vegetables I have no idea how to prepare. (Meanwhile, my younger sister, Rekha, loads up her cart at the Haiko Supermarket in Mumbai with Emeril’s Home Style Marinara sauce, but I digress.)

By the time the groceries are crammed into the van, the smell of samosa chaat wafts through the air, and we head to the closest eatery serving chaat (snacks) from the streets of Mumbai and Delhi.

But nothing beats the pleasure of watching our American-born progeny gobbling up pani puris and wolfing down the spicy dahi papdi chaat.

“Can you make this at home?” is a question I’m asked every time.