Just last night, I looked in the fridge. I didn’t see much but there was a fresh piece of salmon and a good looking crown of broccoli.
“Let’s have salmon,” I said, and everyone agreed. “Can we have the tartar sauce you always make,” the 11-year-old shot back.
“Of course,” I said, agreeing that sauce always makes everything better.
I found some sweet potatoes in the dry produce bin and cubed those up and coated them with olive oil, salt, and pepper; spread them in an even layer and baking them until brown and slightly crisped. I roasted the salmon, simply, with salt and pepper while the broccoli got some sesame oil and garlic before being thrown in the oven.
And of course, I made the tartar sauce.
Over the course of the 45-minute dinner preparation I got to be creative, figuring out what limited ingredients could comprise a well-rounded meal. When I discovered we’d run out of sesame oil, what flavor could stand in and be the replacement?
I got to move quietly and slowly for the first time in my day, disconnecting from screens and social media, playing with food, getting my hands dirty, staining my fingertips with the scent of garlic. Not fewer than 20 times, a kid wandered in the kitchen and grabbed a snack or asked a question.
Nearly every time I dished out a hug and some loving words or advice. I didn’t think of work or house chores once, only of getting those perfect charred edges on the sweet potatoes. Many times I thought of them.
Do they like the potatoes crispy or soft? Would they rather have the salmon soy-marinated or seasoned simply? Will the broccoli be too spicy for my other 11-year-old?
The end result?
I served a meal that will help them grow as it delivers nutrients to their growing brains and bodies. But that’s just the start.
I created a moment of care and enjoyment during their day. I hope they can taste all the times I thought of them. A time when we got to sit across from each other and eat food we all love.
We’re lucky in that.
Making food for people is more than just that. It’s a physical manifestation of showing someone you’ve listened.
You’ve listened to their likes and dislikes, their favorite ingredients, the textures they hate, and their undying affinity for marshmallows.
But even for me, it gets tiring. Let’s assume my kids started eating family dinner around year five, which is about the time they also needed a packed lunch and obviously breakfast. I’m not a math genius but making three meals a day, for four kids, for 18, 17, 11 and 11 years, is a lot of meals. Like more than 50,000 meals.
And of course some have been more thoughtful than others. And recently, the teens have even learned to feed themselves sometimes, melting cheese on tortilla chips in the microwave, just as I did when I was their age.
But, for the most part, I make and pack composed combinations that have all the important elements of a full meal. In my opinion, that’s protein, fiber, and healthy fats.
I make sure they get the prettiest strawberries in their lunches. And that the ratio of peanut butter to jelly is just the way they like it. I never let anything wet touch the crunchy dry elements, because no one wants soggy snacks. I take extra care when making their quesadillas to cut them in the triangles they always ask for.
My ex-husband once said to me, “You can’t love someone by making them dinner,” and I couldn’t disagree more. Caring for people through food has become my loudest act of love.
So maybe, when performing this mundane and repetitive task, whether it is for you or for others you just need to reframe it. I find, as with many things, you just need to change that recurring whining in your head from, “I have to…” to “I get to.” I get to make these kids dinner. It really is such a privilege.
”But First, Food” columnist Whitney Kling is a recipe developer who lives in southwest Ohio with her four kids and two cats. She is also the owner of Fête in The Silos in downtown Dayton. Email you thoughts to her at hellowhitneyk@gmail.com.
Tartar Sauce with Fresh Dill
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1/2 cup full fat Greek yogurt
3 tbsp. sweet pickle relish
3 tbsp. chopped capers
3 tbsp. chopped fresh dill
1 tbsp. white wine vinegar
1 tbsp. Dijon mustard
Pinch Kosher salt
Fresh black pepper
Mix everything together until fully combined.
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