The bustling farmers’ market was alive with activity, and I found myself in a rush. Clutching a few dollar bills, I stood impatiently behind a woman who seemed to take delight in prolonging her order. Her toddler, firmly nestled on her hip, pointed insistently at the colorful carrots. “I WANT IT!” he exclaimed, while his mother beamed, handing over the veggies to the young vendor. The little boy’s next demand for pink fingerling potatoes made my frustration grow. How could she indulge a child so fervently?
In my past, I too had exuded that same overconfident tone. I have two lively sons, now aged 6 and 8, who have always embraced a wide variety of foods. When the book about sneaking spinach into brownies hit the shelves, I was left stunned—my kids devour spinach raw or cooked without hesitation. They relish broccoli, beans, squash, and even kale. One son prefers his beets served warm, but I try to overlook that quirk.
I admit I’ve experienced the surprised reactions from others when they witness my children’s culinary preferences. At our local Italian restaurant, my six-year-old has earned the nickname “the kid who wants extra spinach.” During a vacation at a high-end Japanese eatery, our server was taken aback when my children ordered ikura sushi and tako—salmon eggs and octopus. “I didn’t try that until I was an adult!” she exclaimed, and I couldn’t help but think how things have changed.
At times, these reactions lead me to believe that the state of children’s eating habits must be dire. A waitress recently remarked, “You’re the first kid to order the veal medallions in fennel and lemon butter sauce,” to which I could only respond with disbelief. To me, it’s just meat and potatoes.
For a while, I naively took pride in my children’s adventurous eating, attributing it to my parenting skills. I believed it was my adventurous spirit, my relaxed approach, and my commitment to serving vegetables at every meal. I never resorted to serving chicken fingers or boxed mac and cheese at home. I thought I was doing everything right.
However, reality quickly set in. If my children’s behavior were truly modeled after mine, one could easily assume I also have some less admirable habits. So if I can’t take credit for their diverse tastes, where did they originate? Perhaps it’s a mix of personality traits and birth order: a laid-back older sibling paired with a younger brother eager to prove himself, along with a father who embraces new flavors. At our family table, being a picky eater simply isn’t acceptable.
A more compelling theory might be that their adventurous appetites developed precisely because I once restricted them. As a new mother, I adhered strictly to the guidelines: Baby’s first meal should be a precise tablespoon of rice cereal mixed with breast milk, introduced gradually while monitoring for allergic reactions. My apprehension led me to deny them the opportunity to explore foods like oysters and mussels—now favorites of my eight-year-old. Instead, I insisted they stick to pureed foods while dismissing their desire for more adventurous options.
Living in New York City, we frequently enjoy sushi. We’d typically place cooked dishes in front of our toddler, like teriyaki chicken and avocado maki. However, it wasn’t long before he noticed the raw delicacies his father was enjoying. The moment he pointed at the mackerel sashimi, his father graciously obliged.
This approach could be described as reverse psychology, though it’s difficult to execute without realizing you’re doing it. I found myself cautiously asking our pediatrician if toddlers could eat raw fish. Living in Manhattan, he merely shrugged and shared that his children had sushi regularly.
Thanks to my parenting missteps, I now enjoy relatively peaceful mealtimes. However, this has its drawbacks. Young gourmet eaters often grow tired of the mundane. After indulging in sushi for a while, my kids completely rejected cooked fish, which was frustrating since fish is nutritious, and I’m no sushi chef. While toddlers relishing expensive sushi is adorable, two growing boys devouring it after a soccer game can be quite the expense. Additionally, there’s a certain pretentiousness to consider—imagine your three-year-old asking a weary waitress at a roadside diner, “What are the specials?”
Nevertheless, having experienced minimal mealtime conflict affords me a unique perspective. When one of my children declares he doesn’t like something, I’ve learned not to react. It’s not an issue of restraint; rather, I genuinely don’t mind. If a child who enjoys rutabaga, salmon Provencal, and split pea soup suddenly claims to dislike the capers in his pasta, I remain unfazed.
I can’t prescribe a method for cultivating adventurous eaters, as I recognize that I’m not responsible for my children’s tastes. However, I can share the wisdom that letting go of the pressure surrounding mealtimes can be liberating.
So, the next time you find yourself in a similar situation—say you’ve ordered Chinese because your three-year-old usually enjoys chicken and broccoli, yet tonight refuses to touch it—permit yourself to relax. Visualize your child as a culinary connoisseur who just yesterday polished off fresh root vegetables with spicy hummus, miso soup with tofu, and bean shoots dressed in sesame oil. Embrace the moment of letting go, hand your child the bag of odd fried noodles the restaurant provided, and relish the peace of mind. As for the chicken and broccoli? Just say, “More for me!” and pour yourself a glass of wine.
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In summary, my journey as a parent has taught me that while I can’t take full credit for my children’s adventurous eating habits, embracing flexibility and letting go of the pressure around mealtimes can lead to a more enjoyable dining experience for everyone involved.