How to win over fast food-loving kids with your homecooking

CNA Lifestyle

How to win over fast food-loving kids with your homecooking

In this week'due south Chubby Husband, Portly Papa column, Aun Koh finds out that the fight to go along the kids from getting fond to fast food is real – just exist careful almost creating a little food snob.

xvi Oct 2022 06:35AM (Updated: 03 Jul 2022 02:22PM)

Like every other child in the country, my own tiny terrors have a thing for visiting certain fast nutrient franchises. Which drives my wife and me nuts.

When our oldest was built-in, Su-Lyn and I would ofttimes talk nigh how nosotros wanted to feed our kids. Given our ain eating habits, we knew nosotros could never not expose them to deliciously addictive foods like pizza, burgers or chicken nuggets. Merely we were adamant to serve them good for you, homemade options that tasted so good that they would never be satisfied with mass market fast food versions. It helps, of course, that both Su-Lyn and I are obsessive home cooks.

The results, for the beginning few years, were good – although there was an embarrassing side upshot, that in our naivete, we hadn't counted on. In our quest to make the very best fill-in-the-blank fast food item, we inadvertently turned our son into a food snob.

We discovered this at the birthday political party of one of my wife's niece's kids. The party was held at a small but well-equipped gymnastics schoolhouse and was actually quite fun. The kids all enjoyed ane hour of guided running effectually, tumbling, climbing, jumping, swinging and games, all led by an enthusiastic (but understandably tired-looking) staff fellow member.

Because all kids love pizza, my wife's relative ordered a whole bevy of pies from a local pizza delivery service. To their credit, the pies did odor pretty good. But they didn't wait all that appetising.

READ: Chubby Married man, Portly Papa: School holidays are extremely good for business organization

Our little foodie-in-grooming, naive lilliputian boy that he was back and then, having been fed just on mama and papa'south handmade Roman pizzas with buffalo mozzarella and a homemade sauce fabricated from cherry tomatoes (aye, I completely admit to spoiling him), stared at the piece of pizza deposited in front end of him. He looked at the pizza. So he looked upwardly at usa. Then he looked at the pizza again, without making whatsoever endeavour to gustation information technology.

"It'due south pizza, beloved," said mama. "You similar pizza. Take a bite." He did (I wouldn't have). Then he spat it out and alleged, "This pizza's not good!" in a very, very loud phonation.

Looking around, I did notice that none of the other kids seemed to take a problem with the 'za and were digging in excitedly. Suffice it to say, we fabricated a very quick, very sheepish go out.

At some betoken in the last couple years, T1 finally made his fashion into a McDonald's. I forget who brought him first – I but know information technology wasn't me or Su-Lyn. All I know is that ever since, MickyD'due south has become one of his and, somewhen, ane of his sister'south favourite places.

This does bulldoze me a little crazy, because I had thought I had washed a good – no, a smashing – job at teaching the kids to appreciate a adept burger. Of class, they take some interesting preferences. For my immature tasters, a proficient burger cannot be likewise dense. So even if the meat is of the highest quality, if it'southward too meaty, they both discover it too heavy and thus non enjoyable. The meat also can't be also seasoned. No sauces, delight, et cetera, et cetera.

To appointment, the burgers T1, who is a much bigger burger addict than his sister, has liked best have been the ones at Roadhouse (which has sadly closed downward but the burgers are fortunately notwithstanding bachelor from The Green Door) and Black Tap. He also likes the burgers from Wolf and PS Cafe. Sadly, he wasn't a fan of the ones at Luke's, White Rabbit, Potato Head Folk, or Huber'southward – all of which I savour and think are very well made. Flatterer that he is, T1 does like to say that mine are the best in town, exterior of Black Tap and Roadhouse.

Of course, what I have never told T1 is that the burgers we make at home are brimming full of what we call at domicile "underground vegetables". Because my little monsters, like so many others, are averse to greens, I similar to hide them in their foods.

I make a pretty wide variety of vegetable purees, usually by either slow-cooking them on the stove or steaming them until soft, then whizzing them until flossy. Similarly, if I know a dish volition be a certain colour that renders the vegetables undetectable (like a soy-braised minced pork, for case), I'll throw in any number of veggies. (I specially like zucchini and mushrooms when making meat braises.)

For my burgers, I tend to fold in some carrot puree besides as some leek and garlic or onion puree. A few months ago, T2 was playing in the living room while I was prepping burger mix. In add-on to the carrot and onion, I too added some zucchini. T2 noticed, ran over, and spoke to me in a rather loud and accusatory fashion: "Papa, what are you lot doing?"

Fortunately, I was able to convince her that we could play a game and go on it a clandestine from her gor gor.

READ: Stubby Hubby, Portly Papa: When you're stuck – literally – in the play gym house of pain

Sadly, T2, who loves chicken nuggets, does not like mine very much. I think she's figured out that I'yard doing the same affair to her love nuggets – adding in veggies to the minced chicken before shaping and breading them. She'due south told me very thing-of-factly, right to my face up, that mine are but not as practiced as the ones from MickeyD's.

Nonetheless, I am still working to influence and brainwash my carpeting rats. Simply a few weeks ago, I appear that I was making our own version of Happy Meals. I bundled two trays, each with a boxed Ribena potable, a basket of chips, some nuggets and a burger. I even promised them ice cream after the repast.

They looked the trays up and downwards, and all around, and looked back at me. I could tell something was wrong. Yet, I was sure I fabricated everything perfectly.

"Papa," piped up T2, "But where are our toys?"

Doh.

Chubby Hubby, Portly Papa is a regular column almost adventures in fatherhood from Aun Koh.

How to win over fast food-loving kids with your homecooking

Advertisement