Aftertaste - Meredith Mileti [119]
Enid has given me several suggestions—three of them involving processed cheese products—so I can already tell that there will be some major theoretical differences. My philosophy is that kids shouldn’t be played down to. Introduce them to complex flavors early on, and they’ll develop sophisticated palates. It’s worked so far with Chloe, whose list of green vegetables, in addition to the standard ones, includes mizuna, artichokes, and rapini. The problem is, I don’t know too many other kids. None really, except Eli and Carlos. I don’t know much about Eli, but Carlos survives on nothing but Kraft Singles, oranges, macaroni and cheese, and Cheerios.
Because of the column, Ruth has been pulling double duty in the babysitting department lately. So when she calls for the third time this morning to ask if, in addition to the apple juice and fruit snacks I’m already picking up, I could also buy some nail polish remover, I owe it to her to dredge up my extra reserves of patience.
“According to Vogue, brown nails are in, but I think they look too punk. I used half a bottle just getting it off two fingers. I look like a freak. Better get the large bottle, okay? Oh, and I don’t suppose you have any more of that carrot soup, the one with the peanut butter in it?”
“Sure,” I tell her, fishing the Tupperware container out of the trash and rinsing it off. “I’ll bring it over.”
Just as Chloe and I are on our way out the door a few minutes later, the phone rings again. Sure it’s Ruth, I don’t pick up, figuring she can make me a shopping list when I drop off Chloe.
“What’s this?” Ben asks, sitting down to eat. He’s come on his lunch hour to install my pasta spigot, but because the loft is basically empty, we’ve had to make a table out of the large plywood crate that, until earlier this morning, had contained my professional series Gaggenau range. The lone stool is Ben’s tall Craftsman tool chest.
“This? This is Carlos’s Three-Cheese Casserole.” In between my appointment with Dr. D-P and my trip to the loft to supervise the installation of the range, I’d run home and gathered some ingredients from my father’s pantry, intending to break in my new stove and play around with my kids’ cooking assignment. I’d used tricolor bows, mixed with a combination of cottage cheese, Gruyère, the end of a piece of hard cheese I’d found in the back of the fridge, and a couple of eggs. I baked it all in a hot oven and served it topped with a fresh tomato basil sauce.
“Hmm. Pretty good. Who’s Carlos?”
“I’m a journalist now. I can’t divulge my sources.”
“A mystery man, huh?” Ben gives me a curious look.
“Actually, he’s a kid I know.”
“Oh.”
“It’s for a column on kid-friendly foods.”
“You think a kid would eat this?”
“A kid does eat this.”
“No kid would eat this.”
“Why not?”
“Because for one thing, kids don’t like Swiss cheese.”
“It isn’t Swiss, it’s Gruyère.”
“Okay, way worse than Swiss.”
“It’s delicious, loaded with calcium, and all that I had in the refrigerator.”
“Aha! So the recipe from your mystery kid did not specifically mention Gruyère?”
“No, not exactly.”
Ben helps himself to another serving of Three-Cheese Casserole.
“I’ll bet the original recipe called for cheddar,” he says, taking another bite. “Kids would like it better with cheddar.”
“Actually, it was Kraft American Singles.”
“I rest my case,” Ben says, looking smug.
“Oh, yeah? What do kids know?”
It’s nice of Ben to install my pasta spigot. For one thing, he isn’t charging me, preferring instead to barter his services in return for food. When he tells me that he’ll have to come back to hook up the water lines, he suggests that maybe I could make something on my new stove for dinner one night. For us.
“Maybe we could even scare up another chair. You know, both of us eating at the same time.” Ben widens his eyes, as if he’s just suggested something as daring and improbable as eating al fresco on the dark side of the moon.
“Sure, but I warn you I’ll still be working on this kid column, so you’re taking your chances. It might be hot dogs, or peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,