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| Our Rice Krispie castle to "help us learn about castles!" |
With temperatures in the single digits and the pandemic still very much present, we've been spending a lot of time in the kitchen nowadays. Sometimes I think I should just move in. But we've also made a lot of amazing food, which brings me to the topic of kids in the kitchen.
I first started cooking with Kalina by my side when I found myself ending up cooking often (3-7 times per day) and always with Kalina, well, by my side. Because she never left. In fact, once I even started writing in my head a cookbook of recipes you could easily complete with a baby in a front carrier, without injuring the baby (it had one recipe: PBJ).
So Kalina spent many meals riding on my hip, as did her sisters. As soon as she was steady enough, I pulled up chair, barricaded it with other chairs, and stood her on it so she could "help," hovering over her lest squeeze herself through the small gaps and tumble off. And help she did! I'm pretty sure she could break and egg and measure baking soda accurately at 2 or 3, as could the others.
Of course, that's not the full story. Most of the early days of cooking with kids including watching them like a hawk as they spill an unknown and unmeasurable fraction of the baking soda on the counter, wiping up and recalculating after they break eggs half in the bowl and half out, and bringing out the broom at least once or twice, and often the vacuum.
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| So cold our bubbles flattened! |
Which naturally generated some stealthy behavior on my part. The challenge, on occasion: to throw together something without the toddler at the time seeing--because sometimes I didn't have an hour and a half to make a batch of cookies. Once I nearly succeeded in making an entire batch of pancakes in blissful ease all by myself, only to be sabotaged when I was nearly finished. "I want to help!" -Elise. No biggie--the 2-year-old can certainly stir a batch of pancakes, right? Not without pulling the bowl off the counter and all over herself and the chair, she can't! Fortunately (for me, anyway), Matt walked in the door from work shortly afterward and was able to supervise a quick bath while I whipped up another fancy breakfast-for-dinner meal. Look at me go!
It didn't take the girls long to learn that baking = chocolate chips about 90% of the time. They quickly learned to love baking, and all the little tastes that go along with it. Still. Still the tastes.
By age 5, Elise was creating her own cupcake recipes that we all somehow pretended to like (maybe we only liked the frosting?). First, she added too much milk and salt to the flour concoction. They took 30 minutes to "bake" (read: cook off all the liquid) and the texture was...less than cakey. But with enough butterscotch chips and apple chunks, paired with the frosting, they were tolerable. Next, too much egg. Matt "saved his for later" and "gave the rest to Grandpa," while I consumed some, hid the rest, and made sure Kalina's helping was 2/3 frosting so she could get it down without making any of the obvious comments. Then we adventured into such "extras" as baking soda and vanilla, and reasonable amounts of sugar and salt, which helped. By age 8 or 9, the cupcakes were quite tolerable, and at 10, she discovered the merits of lemon peel added to her "chocolate bite" cupcakes, which seems to have completed the recipe. She's even handed it out.
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| Naomi has been sewing felt animals completely on her own! (The purple puppy is not one of her creations...) |
Fast forward a decade, and everyone is helpful. Actually helpful, as long as I'm not in a hurry. They can chop with real knives. They can handle raw meat (if they're not too grossed out). Cookies are not a problem. And Elise is finally willing to cook with, and learn from, a cookbook. (She still firmly believes that a recipe doesn't really count unless you made it up yourself, though.)
Things that haven't changed: We still make a pretty big mess (granted, sometimes it's because our projects are bigger) that no one wants to clean up. However, while the broom always comes out, the vacuum and mop often get to stay put. Also, the tastes--they've gotten both sneakier and bolder.
I've also still retained some of the habits of panic-cooking that I gained over years of just waiting for some meltdown or catastrophe as the veggies are burning in the pan or my hands are covered with raw meat. Even now, I attack the meal. No relaxing music while I leisurely and lovingly put together dinner. Even though I almost probably could, since meltdowns are a bit rarer (or at least different) nowadays, if I weren't simultaneously teaching pre-algebra, accompanying voice practice and guessing the answers to strange riddles.
I do, however, summon my patience, still, to let the girls help nearly as often as they want. Even if it means dinner will be 15 minutes late due to beginner carrot-chopping or biscuit-making. It's literally all I can do not to shove the child out of the way and take over, and I probably have once or twice over the years, but this is one of the ways in which being a parent grows you. Sometimes I even keep my voice patient as I say, soothingly (I hope), "I'm trying really hard to get this in the oven fast, Sweetie! So let's focus and get 'er done! Thanks for your 'help!'" Sometimes I hope they can't audibly hear the quotations around "help."
As Kalina has grown, she's enjoyed making meringues, deviled eggs, guacamole, and honestly anything that's a little bit "fancy." Her cookies will all be evenly shaped and beautifully decorated, and anything that's hand-shaped will look uniformly neat and tidy. But she's also good with chopping up veggies when called on for a special project, and enjoys peeling onions and garlic. She also made up a sandwich-themed PBJ casserole one evening, and has plans to make some more (ham and cheese, BLT, etc.).
When asked on a random night if she'd like to help with dinner, though, she'd rather read 90% of the time.
Unless, of course, we're making something exciting--like world cuisine. Every February we cook delicious Russian food, to go along with the frigid weather, and this February I think we outdid ourselves.
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| Pelmini and borscht! So yummy! |
We always make borscht, pelmini, and blini, and this year added in piroshki, which were a bit high-maintenance, but super popular. Elise has been trying so hard to like pelmini, and found she finally did this year! She also almost likes borscht--enough to fix herself a nice bowlful, and eat a few bites. Kalina enjoys it all, as long as there are plenty of potatoes in the borscht. Naomi likes anything bready and fruity. Truly we're ready to open a Russian restaurant because it's all so yummy, and not too hard with the fact that the girls are usually actual helpers, and not the "wink-wink, nod-nod" types of helpers, unless of course I'm in a hurry.
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| Doesn't she look like someone out of a Beatrix Potter book? |
Naomi in the kitchen is a bit of a different matter because she's in this easily grossed out phase (it's been a long one and a doozy) and won't touch anything that has even touched meat, or even sat on the same cutting board, even if the meat has been cooked. She also won't touch veggies that she doesn't eat (so, most of them). She won't help make anything she doesn't want to eat, except under duress, and wants to add chocolate chips to everything (don't we all?).Other than that, she's a great kitchen helper! She'll always have plenty of baked goods to eat.
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| The kittens are clearly ready for warmer weather! |
And finally, possibly the best thing about kids in the kitchen, other than all the fun projects we take on, and the companionship, is the fact that at lunchtime I can say, "Go make lunch," and they can each pull together something reasonable and balanced efficiently and with hardly any help. Elise goes for grilled cheese, Kalina might boil herself an egg or pasta, or make some guac if there's an avocado, and Naomi instantly thinks bread and jam (to which I usually make her add peanut butter). And while they think that means they could totally survive on their own, at least I know it's a step in the right direction.
