BrightonMums.com contributor Maggie Gordon-Walker, from Mothers Uncovered, examines the battle for healthy meals and how to approach it.
Until I was about seven, I only ate about seven items of food. My mother, while being naturally concerned, consulted her Dr Spock (good old Spock!), where she read that it was best not to make a fuss, because that would translate to the child and lead to greater problems. So, she blithely rose above my grandmother’s plaintive remarks at my skinny little frame – ‘You are good not to worry. If I were Margaret’s mother, I’d take her to every paediatrician in the country……’ with a retort that yes, she thought it was good not to worry. She was also heartened by the fact that I ate something from each food group and didn’t gorge on sweets.
Around this time we went to visit some friends in Yorkshire, who took us on a blustery walk on the moors. Allegedly I asked if we were ‘going back to England soon’ because of the bleakness of the walk, but I’m sure that’s just a vicious rumour. And just like Mary in ‘The Secret Garden’, the wind awakened my appetite. The company were somewhat alarmed at my lethargy the next morning. It being Sunday, we had accompanied them to Mass. I lolled in a pew, looking pale and wan. When we got back to theirs for a most sumptuous roast beef and Yorkshire pud (made by a true native, a thing of great splendour) I suddenly started eating. I ate and ate.
When we got back I kept on eating. My father was delighted. He is a gourmet cook and had been producing wonderful meals for family and friends for years, sourcing all manner of exotic ingredients (no mean feat for rural Herts). Neighbours had always smiled at my defiantly eating my fishfingers, saying I wouldn’t be able to resist before long. And indeed, by the time I was twelve I ate pretty much anything.
I’m sure you’ve been charmed by reading all that but wonder as to its significance. School meals is my point. Goodness knows we have problems with food in this country, what with food banks, obesity epidemics, anorexia et al. At the school my children attend is a wonderful mother supported by a team of parents, toiling away to improve the situation. And they have – the vegetables now still look like vegetables and they are making real inroads into the reduction of salt and sugar and introducing healthier options.
The only anxiety I have is if parents feel guilty that their kids would still rather eat fishfingers and pasta at home, rather than chick peas and quinoa. My elder son started eating a more varied diet when he went into Juniors, my younger shows glimmers of being less rigid in time. It is partly an age thing. Yet quite often I would feel a pang of guilt at their limited diet and pull out the Annabel Karmel (Stepford Wife!) from the back of the cupboard to make a ‘caterpillar’ vegetable kebab which the boys would admire but refuse to put anywhere near their mouths. There’d be flouncings out (me, not them) and bad feeling all round. You can make it look as nice as you want, but if it’s courgette, they ain’t having it. And it’s not because my cooking is bad. I’m not a Masterchef, but I am a pretty good cook. In the name of research I tried to give them a little sweet potato last night that I’d roasted along with the regular potatoes. The 10 year old camouflaged his with gravy to get it down, the younger spat it out and ran theatrically to the sink to drink some water, for all the world as if it were laced with arsenic.
People often wistfully look to France as the model we should be following. It’s true their lunches look a LOT better. But then I imagine they have a greater budget to spend on it. Plus the whole county stops for a proper lunch. It doesn’t matter if you’re a barrister or a builder, come noon everyone’s tucking into their composed salads and duck magret. Even though there are an astonishing amount of restaurants and gourmet food shops in this country, there is a great divide between who eats what. Many people watch food programmes, but don’t translate it as something they can do for themselves.
I don’t think insisting children eat what’s on the plate or go hungry is the best plan. In my case, I would happily have not eaten. Children have three times the amount of tastebuds as adults, so a lot of vegetables taste bitter to them. It could also develop into an allergy. One thing I (still) don’t like is orange peel, finding it incredibly bitter. This rules out marmalade and orange juice (excepting the freshly squeezed stuff). My father gets eczema from it, so my natural antipathy is likely to have good grounds. I also don’t particularly see a problem over rewarding eating the main meal with a pudding. There’s not many adults who don’t look forward to their glass (or 5) of wine at the weekend to reward them. If the table becomes a battleground, it is likely to cause more problems in the long run. Just like you don’t see adults in nappies (except in VERY special clubs), children will extend their range in time. If you eat a varied and interesting diet and make sure the kids know the options available, it’s fairly likely they will join in eventually. If all else fails, take them for a long walk on the Yorkshire Moors.
Follow Maggie on Twitter (I urge you, she’s hilarious!) @mgordonwalker.
