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The roasted chicken in milk above has me asking, how do you deal with picky eaters?
- Thread starter desertjean
- Start date
This thread is conjuring up a whole lot of funny pictures in my head. Must
be because it's late and I've had a long day, but I can't stop giggling... the image I have made up of a grown woman discretly pulling her own foods out of a paper bag resting on her lap, one by one, and slipping them onto her plate as to not offend anyone. Considerate, yes - cracking me up, definately.
Teehee, sorry Karen.
be because it's late and I've had a long day, but I can't stop giggling... the image I have made up of a grown woman discretly pulling her own foods out of a paper bag resting on her lap, one by one, and slipping them onto her plate as to not offend anyone. Considerate, yes - cracking me up, definately.
Teehee, sorry Karen.
I have so little patience with "pickiness." Maybe I'm not being fair, but it's one thing
to have an allergy or an ideological issue, and another to look sideways at everything that is served. Where is the joy?
I remember reading an article about a man who ate a grilled cheese sandwich every night, no matter where he was, even in a fancy restaurant. His first wife left him and then he "came out" and started an organization for picky eaters. He said that most food to him looked like a plate of raw liver would look to you and me. He had some scientific research to back up his claim. I was temporarily sympathetic, but then I realized that raw liver doesn't gross me out at all.
My friends all enjoy good food, but you can't choose your kin. Three of my nieces and one of my nephews are extremely picky. The oldest niece (24!) still eats off a divided plate because she hates foods to touch each other. Where did a guy like me get relatives like this? Fortunately, they all like my homemade French bread, so I make sure that I have it on hand and I ignore them otherwise.
If you serve bread and salad, lots of veggies, and a nice selection of other stuff, any polite guest will find their way.
to have an allergy or an ideological issue, and another to look sideways at everything that is served. Where is the joy?
I remember reading an article about a man who ate a grilled cheese sandwich every night, no matter where he was, even in a fancy restaurant. His first wife left him and then he "came out" and started an organization for picky eaters. He said that most food to him looked like a plate of raw liver would look to you and me. He had some scientific research to back up his claim. I was temporarily sympathetic, but then I realized that raw liver doesn't gross me out at all.
My friends all enjoy good food, but you can't choose your kin. Three of my nieces and one of my nephews are extremely picky. The oldest niece (24!) still eats off a divided plate because she hates foods to touch each other. Where did a guy like me get relatives like this? Fortunately, they all like my homemade French bread, so I make sure that I have it on hand and I ignore them otherwise.
If you serve bread and salad, lots of veggies, and a nice selection of other stuff, any polite guest will find their way.
Yup, I've had to deal with it - in tossing the salad and prepping the plates for luncheons...
little old ladies coming up saying "set that plate aside for me without dressing and without croutons.... oh, and extra chicken" or "is that what you're serving? I can't eat any of that"... have had to resist the urge to throttle their little blue haired heads.
little old ladies coming up saying "set that plate aside for me without dressing and without croutons.... oh, and extra chicken" or "is that what you're serving? I can't eat any of that"... have had to resist the urge to throttle their little blue haired heads.
steve2-in-la
Well-known member
If it's a meal for 4-10, I always ask the invitees if they have any "food issues". Seems to work.
Only time this was problematic was when I heard "allergic to garlic and onions" and "I prefer my prime-rib well done". Aughhhhhhhhh!
Only time this was problematic was when I heard "allergic to garlic and onions" and "I prefer my prime-rib well done". Aughhhhhhhhh!
heather_in_sf
Well-known member
I use to hate, can you believe, chiles. So yes, tastes change. Thank gawd, life without Hatch green
chiles is a sad chilly place (sorry for the pun!).
chiles is a sad chilly place (sorry for the pun!).
heather_in_sf
Well-known member
My family will never forget *that* Chtistmas when we splurged on a prime rib,
An 8 bone rib, a glorious beast if there ever was one. Painstakingly it was roasted to perfection to rare/medium rare. We served it with perfectly proportioned red potatoes with a tiny stripe of peel removed for effect, crisp tender green beans and our favorite treat of tomato aspic with bay shrimp. Plus oyster stew, a tradition from 2 guests who brought a tub of their famous stew.
This friend's husband grew up somewhere in Quaker country. The beef, we were informed after everyone was served their slice of perfection, had to be well-done or he couldn't touch it. The potatoes had to be fully peeled and the green beans not served *raw*. I forget what he said about the aspic because mom did a remarkable thing, she left the table and took away the offending plate. Behind the kitchen door we heard audible scraping sounds. Then the microwave whirring. Then the DING! Then more scraping sounds. She returned bearing a messy highly steaming plate with grey pallid sad beef and yellowed green beans from their nuke job. She plunked the plate down and said nothing. He said nothing, and laborously for the next 10 minutes with his knife and fork peeled every scrap of potato skin off the little roasters. Then he ate.
This was also the dinner where a gal at my mom's work was bragging about how busy & popular she was at the holidays and jokingly my mom said she should drop by for dinner at our home as well. Everyone laughed. Not another word was said about it and on Christmas night we all trouped outside to see our guests new car, and wandering the street was the gal from work! She and her husband (whom my mom didn't know) said hello and followed us back inside. Had we not gone out I don't believe they ever would have found our apartment. How they knew the approximate address is a mystery. When it dawned on mom that they took her joke seriously and that this gal's boasts were probably all made up, we quietly added another leaf to the table, reset it and borrowed chairs from a neighbor. It was a little humbling to think about this lady and her boasts and how excited and happy they were to be our guests. What they thought about the whole picky eater situation was beyond us, as it was beyond our comprehension to be so rude to a host, and I think mom's nerves were a tad frayed at that point for having to serve FHB dishes at Christmas (Family Hold Back, did you ever have those??) to accommodate two additional hearty eaters.
What a memorable holiday!!!
An 8 bone rib, a glorious beast if there ever was one. Painstakingly it was roasted to perfection to rare/medium rare. We served it with perfectly proportioned red potatoes with a tiny stripe of peel removed for effect, crisp tender green beans and our favorite treat of tomato aspic with bay shrimp. Plus oyster stew, a tradition from 2 guests who brought a tub of their famous stew.
This friend's husband grew up somewhere in Quaker country. The beef, we were informed after everyone was served their slice of perfection, had to be well-done or he couldn't touch it. The potatoes had to be fully peeled and the green beans not served *raw*. I forget what he said about the aspic because mom did a remarkable thing, she left the table and took away the offending plate. Behind the kitchen door we heard audible scraping sounds. Then the microwave whirring. Then the DING! Then more scraping sounds. She returned bearing a messy highly steaming plate with grey pallid sad beef and yellowed green beans from their nuke job. She plunked the plate down and said nothing. He said nothing, and laborously for the next 10 minutes with his knife and fork peeled every scrap of potato skin off the little roasters. Then he ate.
This was also the dinner where a gal at my mom's work was bragging about how busy & popular she was at the holidays and jokingly my mom said she should drop by for dinner at our home as well. Everyone laughed. Not another word was said about it and on Christmas night we all trouped outside to see our guests new car, and wandering the street was the gal from work! She and her husband (whom my mom didn't know) said hello and followed us back inside. Had we not gone out I don't believe they ever would have found our apartment. How they knew the approximate address is a mystery. When it dawned on mom that they took her joke seriously and that this gal's boasts were probably all made up, we quietly added another leaf to the table, reset it and borrowed chairs from a neighbor. It was a little humbling to think about this lady and her boasts and how excited and happy they were to be our guests. What they thought about the whole picky eater situation was beyond us, as it was beyond our comprehension to be so rude to a host, and I think mom's nerves were a tad frayed at that point for having to serve FHB dishes at Christmas (Family Hold Back, did you ever have those??) to accommodate two additional hearty eaters.
What a memorable holiday!!!
Heather, please give this to your ((Mom)). What a classy lady! It reminds me of this
anecdote from Reader's Digest when I was a kid. It was written by a teacher who grew up in Kentucky. When he was growing up, a poor stranger stopped by their farm, asking for assistance from his father, who then asked the man to join them for dinner. The stranger was having difficulty with the silverware and the boy's father noticed, put down his fork, picked up his knife and started eating the peas with his knife (I remember being amazed that people could do that!). Immediately, the guest picked up his knife and started to eat that way too...much more comfortable now.
Can't remember the phrasing, but the take-away from the father to his son was: it is more important to make a guest feel comfortable than it is to be "correct."
anecdote from Reader's Digest when I was a kid. It was written by a teacher who grew up in Kentucky. When he was growing up, a poor stranger stopped by their farm, asking for assistance from his father, who then asked the man to join them for dinner. The stranger was having difficulty with the silverware and the boy's father noticed, put down his fork, picked up his knife and started eating the peas with his knife (I remember being amazed that people could do that!). Immediately, the guest picked up his knife and started to eat that way too...much more comfortable now.
Can't remember the phrasing, but the take-away from the father to his son was: it is more important to make a guest feel comfortable than it is to be "correct."
I don't think they let people like me in....
I think the office of President IS something special, and deserves respect, support, protocol and should honor tradition. (Even if I disagree with a sitting President's politics) I also think being First Lady is one of the best jobs in the world... a "job" which calls on a woman to be role model for all women, for all U.S. citizens, and give a voice in support of the greatest nation we call America.
That said, I wouldn't appreciate all of the pettiness involved in something as challenging, yet routine, as throwing a state dinner. Don't write me a personal note telling me your digestive system can't tolerate green peas. I mean, how do you politely say "If you want to come to dinner, come to dinner. If you don't eat green peas, then don't eat green peas at the dinner." More than likely I would pencil in the guest on the RSVP list and throw the note in the "outgoing" file cabinet, a.k.a. the trash. There are so many dishes at these events even a fasting person could find something to eat!
Wouldn't I just fit right in at the White House?
Actually I once read some of the First Ladies' impressions of the White House, and one of them mentioned how at one time, an invitation to dine at the White House was an honor and people wouldn't dream of telling the hostess what they did or didn't want served. (The White House chef always prepares foods to suit many special diets anyway.) But these days the number of "special" requests, of which most are "I don't eats or "I can't tolerates," is overwhelming, rude and demanding.
I think the office of President IS something special, and deserves respect, support, protocol and should honor tradition. (Even if I disagree with a sitting President's politics) I also think being First Lady is one of the best jobs in the world... a "job" which calls on a woman to be role model for all women, for all U.S. citizens, and give a voice in support of the greatest nation we call America.
That said, I wouldn't appreciate all of the pettiness involved in something as challenging, yet routine, as throwing a state dinner. Don't write me a personal note telling me your digestive system can't tolerate green peas. I mean, how do you politely say "If you want to come to dinner, come to dinner. If you don't eat green peas, then don't eat green peas at the dinner." More than likely I would pencil in the guest on the RSVP list and throw the note in the "outgoing" file cabinet, a.k.a. the trash. There are so many dishes at these events even a fasting person could find something to eat!
Wouldn't I just fit right in at the White House?
Actually I once read some of the First Ladies' impressions of the White House, and one of them mentioned how at one time, an invitation to dine at the White House was an honor and people wouldn't dream of telling the hostess what they did or didn't want served. (The White House chef always prepares foods to suit many special diets anyway.) But these days the number of "special" requests, of which most are "I don't eats or "I can't tolerates," is overwhelming, rude and demanding.
FHB.....always. What a wonderful Mum you have. Some people can and are so terribly rude. Fortunately
it has been a long time since we had anyone so rude at our table.
The worst one I remember had nothing to do with the food...We had 10 at the table.......it was when the mobile phones were really coming in and one couple had just got one.
He suddenly had a call (business at 9pm ) and spoke at the top of his voice, then rudely told all of us to shut-up and stop laughing so he could hear the caller.
After an incredulous silence we all simultaniously started talking really loudly to one another....rather a "rubarb, rubarb" sort of chat.
Now-a-days I think most everyone gets up from the table and goes out of earshot to talk should one have to take a call during dinner.
I've noticed this happens most when there are teenagers 'somewhere'out and about. Those of us with grown up sprogs rarely get calls during dinner.
it has been a long time since we had anyone so rude at our table.
The worst one I remember had nothing to do with the food...We had 10 at the table.......it was when the mobile phones were really coming in and one couple had just got one.
He suddenly had a call (business at 9pm ) and spoke at the top of his voice, then rudely told all of us to shut-up and stop laughing so he could hear the caller.
After an incredulous silence we all simultaniously started talking really loudly to one another....rather a "rubarb, rubarb" sort of chat.
Now-a-days I think most everyone gets up from the table and goes out of earshot to talk should one have to take a call during dinner.
I've noticed this happens most when there are teenagers 'somewhere'out and about. Those of us with grown up sprogs rarely get calls during dinner.
desertjean
Well-known member
As I said, I am a picky eater but have grown less so as I get older.
I have found over the years that a lot of what I didn't like was more because I was raised in the wonder bread era. Every vegetable was from a can, soft white stick to the roof of your mouth bread, with lots of catsup and margarine.
Add to it that we were allowed to be picky. Mom was raised where you cleaned every crumb from your plate no matter what and so she went the opposite direction with us. If we didn't want it we didn't eat it and we could get something else.
Hubby is just the opposite, he eats everything and loves to try new stuff. With our son we compromised. 3 tries were required before he could say he didn't like it, but that try only had to be one bite. At 19 he'll try anything and likes most foods but does have a few dislikes. And yes, he even likes liver. And don't get me started on the Crab & Cremini Bisque he wanted for his tenth birthday. (I had PB&J, LOL)
I have found over the years that a lot of what I didn't like was more because I was raised in the wonder bread era. Every vegetable was from a can, soft white stick to the roof of your mouth bread, with lots of catsup and margarine.
Add to it that we were allowed to be picky. Mom was raised where you cleaned every crumb from your plate no matter what and so she went the opposite direction with us. If we didn't want it we didn't eat it and we could get something else.
Hubby is just the opposite, he eats everything and loves to try new stuff. With our son we compromised. 3 tries were required before he could say he didn't like it, but that try only had to be one bite. At 19 he'll try anything and likes most foods but does have a few dislikes. And yes, he even likes liver. And don't get me started on the Crab & Cremini Bisque he wanted for his tenth birthday. (I had PB&J, LOL)
interesting about these requests not happening long ago. When my parents had guests, no one ever
asked for special foods, and my Mom never asked about allergies etc---it was just a given in their circle of friends that you came and partied and ate what was served. Of course, their circle of friends were all immigrants who were just grateful to be here and enjoying the bounty of life in the good old US and weren't one bit picky. Maybe my tolerance for pickiness is practically zero because of my upbringing? We just weren't allowed to be picky. I do however always ask new guests to my home if there are any food allergies I should know about. Is it a generational thing, or are we more aware these days of food allergies(I sure am : )
asked for special foods, and my Mom never asked about allergies etc---it was just a given in their circle of friends that you came and partied and ate what was served. Of course, their circle of friends were all immigrants who were just grateful to be here and enjoying the bounty of life in the good old US and weren't one bit picky. Maybe my tolerance for pickiness is practically zero because of my upbringing? We just weren't allowed to be picky. I do however always ask new guests to my home if there are any food allergies I should know about. Is it a generational thing, or are we more aware these days of food allergies(I sure am : )
picky stepD lives in WA, surrounded by blackberry bushes and had never tried one. I discovered
this bounty last fall and went picking with a big bowl and then baked 2 mixed fruit pies and had enough berries for yogurt and cereal. She finally decided to taste one, and was so surprised that they were so sweet and juicy. Was it the black color that kept her from even trying them?? I dunno, but I would have loved to have gone back in a week to pick more and make jam. I'm sure they will still sit and whither on the branches this year. I just don't understand not even trying something, especially something very "normal" like a berry.
this bounty last fall and went picking with a big bowl and then baked 2 mixed fruit pies and had enough berries for yogurt and cereal. She finally decided to taste one, and was so surprised that they were so sweet and juicy. Was it the black color that kept her from even trying them?? I dunno, but I would have loved to have gone back in a week to pick more and make jam. I'm sure they will still sit and whither on the branches this year. I just don't understand not even trying something, especially something very "normal" like a berry.
heather_in_sf
Well-known member
Aw, thanks y'all!