Winter White

It snowed last night in Vancouver, which caught us all by surprise. Our part of the city doesn't get much snow, and it's early in the season for what we do get. We were out last night having a drink with friends when it started coming down, and boy was that pretty. The city was frosted with it today, cold and crisp. It was a great day for soup and fresh bread.

I'm still adjusting to life as a -- dare I say it? -- housewife. Things that I love to do in smaller doses, like cook, play with children, go marketing, or putter around tidying up, get tedious or aggravating when it's day after day. All jobs are like that, I guess. Getting dinner on the table every night is becoming one of my frustrations. With a team of picky eaters, each picky in his own way (one eats three fruits but no vegetables, one eats a moderate variety of vegetables and beans but no fruit, one theoretically eats most things but will reject a piece of bread for having brown "skin" on it), I often feel like no matter what effort I put in, somebody is going to complain about it and nobody is going to be happy. Mid-afternoon rolls around, and if I haven't figured something out already, I start to panic.

Mr. Gateau and I are flirting with the notion of just making whatever we like, and essentially daring the kids to eat it or nothing. There is always a supply of decent alternatives in the house (cheese, bread, peanut butter, yogurt, mac & cheese in a box, edamame, fixings for cheese quesadillas, eggs) and kids with increasing kitchen competence to prepare it. Still, something nags at me, making me want to produce a meal that is nutritious and appealing to everyone, and frankly, the idea of an 8 year old scrambling eggs while I'm trying to get dinner on the table isn't that attractive.

Tonight, quite by accident, I managed to produce an entirely white (or beige, I guess) meal that concealed some decent nutrition and flavor. I recently got a recipe for a Thai red curry roasted cauliflower soup. It's a great recipe and right in my wheelhouse -- tons of flavor, huge amount of vegetables crammed in there, silky texture, and all made in one pot. I was planning to tell the children it was "White Mulligatawny" and thus capitalize on the fact they have tasted and found acceptable a white bean soup I make and a Mulligatawny. 

I had decided at about 2 in the afternoon to put together a batch of homemade pita. This is something I recently discovered I could easily make, and it really is a pleasure to do, well worth the little bit of time it takes.

I pureed the soup and popped the pitas in the oven, and then it happened. I tasted the soup and found that the red curry paste had packed a serious wallop and the kids would certainly not be able to eat it. I ended up rounding out the meal for them with some hummus and a batch of Annie's Mac & Cheese. To my surprise, they actually liked the soup, though they found it too hot to eat more than a spoonful. My anti-vegetable child even told me it was perfect in every other way, and I should make a mild version very soon. He has no idea he was enjoying a cauliflower soup.

I suppose there is hope.

Tea Time

My husband's parents were both born in England, and this has led our household to indulge in several British treats, among them strong tea (regardless of age), Christmas crackers (with silly crowns worn for entire holiday meal), and Marmite. Probably the most rewarding Britishism, though, has been the concept of high tea, or as it has come to be known in our household, the Tea Dinner.

My mother-in-law, particularly when my kids were very young, would invite friends around to see her grandkids when we were in town to visit, and would often serve what she termed High Tea. I know that definitions of High Tea vary widely, probably based on region, era, and class, but in this case it involves a late afternoon meal including a big pot of tea and plenty of little dishes, both sweet and savory, such as cold chicken, cheese sandwiches, cookies, and fruit. The children found it magical, and always ate well. They've also become fans of very fancy hotel teas, the kind with the cucumber sandwiches and tiered cake racks and Devon cream. To which I say: What's not to like?

One typically flustered evening, we discovered that if you put food on the table, even leftovers, along with a pot of tea and a plate of scones or cookies, and called it Tea, the children would eat with gusto. Thus began the Tea Dinner tradition. Now we have Tea Dinner about once a week, usually when (a) the refrigerator is piled high with little containers of odds and ends and (b) the parents of the household are about to pass out from exhaustion and/or frustration. We brew up a pot of tea, we put the odds and ends on little plates, and if I'm really feeling ambitious, I'll mix up a batch of scones or muffins.

This week, for example, we did it up right. I served:

• three medium-size servings of leftover Moroccan Harira soup
• a platter of sliced cold roast chicken and four slices of steak
• a bowl of Spaghetti Bolognese
• baby kale-swiss chard salad (about half a prewashed bag worth) with vinaigrette and shaved Parmesan
• two and a half leftover twice-baked potatoes with bacon and cheddar
• one slice of plain pizza, cut in 8 little pieces (the kids all laid claim to the slice)
• a dish of spicy green olives
• steamed carrots with butter and salt
• half a cheddar and apple sandwich
• fresh baked blueberry muffins
• pot of Earl Grey

And now my refrigerator is magically cleared out!

Tonight on Masterpiece Theatre, Upscale Downscale

Just back from a nice weekend with the family in Philadelphia. Since we were with kids, we didn't get to check out the exciting places in the Philly food scene, like Morimoto or The Fountain at the Four Seasons, but we did very well with places specializing in upscale versions of downscale food. Saturday night, we went for very tasty BBQ at Devil's Alley, which had a great old industrial vibe and a fun atmosphere. I shared a platter of St. Louis style ribs with Young Master Gateau, which came with two sides (excellent beer battered onion rings and cole slaw were my picks), while Mr. Gateau had a turkey burger (buh?) with bacon and blue cheese, and the baby had a nice cheese quesadilla with good fries (note to New York area restaurant owners: there is no reason on earth why a child's entree should cost more than the $3 or $4 or $5 pricing we encountered in Philadelphia, and portions should be scaled to match. Also, put the regular menu food on the kids' menu, not just endless fried nuggets. I saw a menu for a place there that offered an English cut prime rib for kids, for the love of pete). Mr. Gateau talked me into sharing a whole pitcher of ale with him, which proved to be a good move, as it was excellent (from the Yard's brewery, which apparently has just disbanded).

On Sunday, we avoided the misery known as the "free, cooked to order" hotel breakfast and went out for a fun brunch at the Continental Mid-Town lounge, which had a groovy retro-future look and a terrific menu reminiscent of the great Norma's at Le Parker Meridien in New York. Mr. Gateau had a good cheddar and bacon omelette, I had poached eggs with smoked salmon hash, with exceptional coffee and a Bellini, which was just what I needed, and we ordered "The Big Bang" platter for the kids to share, which included a short stack of pancakes, scrambled eggs, toast, applewood smoked bacon, very flavorful turkey sausages, and probably the best breakfast potatoes I've ever had. These were just what you want in a potato side -- well seasoned, and cut into thin ovals that we potatoey and tender in the center, but crispy everywhere else. This more than adequately fueled a long walk around the historical sites, and then an endless trip home fighting the Jersey shore traffic/certain people's repeated failures to read properly the instructions displayed on a certain person's GPS device that a certain person's spouse gave him for Father's Day.

All in all, Philadelphia did right by us.