Food is important to us. Good food is even more important.

As I begin to type this entry I’m on the phone with Dad talking about eating well. He’s in Labrador and is given all kinds of good food – caribou, char, berries, salmon – and when we’re lucky (and he’s coming to town & has room) we receive the spoils of it too. In the fridge we have caribou jerky that I often nibble on when I’m snacky, caribou salami that is waiting to be paired with mozzarella on our next homemade pizza, and in the freezer a large smoked arctic char that I have to arrange a dinner party for – I can’t justify cooking up that bad boy just for me and Cory, I must invite somebody over to help us enjoy it. Any takers?

When I was pregnant with Merrin I remember wondering if having a baby, and eventually a kid, would mean that we wouldn’t have time to cook anymore. That we’d be relegated to a life of kraft dinner, emergency (frozen) pizza and take-out chinese. Now don’t get me wrong, we enjoy all these selections, just not all that often. Well except for the kids and their kraft dinner – we make about a box a week and save it leftovers to dole out bit by bit as side dishes on nights when they don’t really enjoy much of what we’re eating.

One of my proudest moments of the first day I brought Merrin home from the hospital was that once I walked in the door I went straight to the kitchen to make one of our favourite, and easiest, dishes: sausage, onion, broccoli & tomato stir fried with navy & black beans and rosemary. Although it probably had less to do with my desire to cook and more to do with my body seeking real food after the three day ’shock and awe’ that is hospital food. But I know it had something to do with my need to prove to myself that we could indeed cook real food and eat it as well, even if there was a time and energy sucking baby in the house now.

When Merrin was old enough to stand on a stool at the kitchen counter we began trying to incorporate her into our food preparation process. She enjoyed it for a while, maybe close to a year, and then her focus was sucked away by movies and toys and a baby sister. Every now and again she still wants to help in the kitchen, but more often than not she prefers to cook us food – or make us tea – with her wooden stove, metal pots and plastic food. I am proud of her when she does want to help us with the real food though, and happy because usually it means she will eat more, or be more adventurous in trying new food.

Tonight Elsa was inducted into the food preparation ritual. She is about at the same as now as Merrin was when she started standing on the stool, leaning against the counter. And we started Elsa off on the same things we did with Merrin – fresh mushrooms, the brush to get any dirt off, a cheese platter knife to cut them. Elsa loved it, and was a pro. At the cutting anyway, she had little interest in brushing them. Although she did brush a nearby lemon. Elsa’s mushroom cutting technique was to pull the stalk off, or at least most of it, then jam the cheese knife where the stalk used to be until it came through the cap on the other side, and finally to twist the cap and knife, one in each hand, until the mushroom broke in half. Or 1/4 & 3/4. Or at least broke into more than one piece somehow.

She was so proud of herself. And I was sure to tell her what an awesome job she did while I took the massacred mushrooms and finely chopped them for the the orzo risotto we were making. On a side note, I find that totally funny, because it’s risotto made with orzo, or Orzotto – hahaha! Okay, I guess it’s just me. Anyway….

Merrin, wondering what her sister was doing up on HER stool in the kitchen, also wanted to join in and help. So while Elsa and I stirred the broth into the orzo on the stovetop I had Merrin doing the most important risotto making job of all – preparing the flavour agents. Merrin’s job was to grate the lemon zest and Parmigiano-Reggiano. Which she did fairly well, though not nearly as well as she did in sneaking bits of the cheese with every couple of turns of the grater.

We had a great time preparing supper, and an even better time eating it. Even though Merrin would not even try the risotto, at least Elsa lapped it up. Oh, and that the kids had Cory’s leftover ’superbowl’ chicken nuggets instead of the juicy local pork chops with cranberry glaze that we did. And don’t even mention the asparagus. Every now and again Merrin will eat a top of one, and Elsa will mash some into her mouth though I’m not really certain how much makes it down into her stomach – tonight they were having no part in eating asparagus.

Oh well, you can lead a horse to water…..