Recently Ella asked what a chicken nugget was and in one of those parenting moments when you realize so many things all at once, I thought about how sheltered she is, how lucky she is, how proud I am of the choices we are able to make and also, how sad that she doesn’t get that “fun” food. Isn’t it interesting that I equated “chicken nuggets” with “fun” food. But what I really meant was the the fun that comes from the very clever marketing of a Happy Meal. And then I thought, “Wait a minute! I can make my own nuggets. We can still have ‘fun’ food!” and that is how the recipes for this column were born.
We all pitched in and helped, the girls now FAR more adept at working with dough and rolling out the rolls than they used to be when much of their time was spent seeing if they could submerse their arms into the big bag of flour all the way up to their shoulder. They’d start by just putting their hands into the flour, to which I didn’t usually object, because, hey, who can resist the silky feel of flour in your hands. Usually in a moment when my back was turned, the temptation would become irresistible, and my next snap shot would be of the bag of flour swallowing my child. Happy child, messy kitchen. Bread is never a clean event on the best of days, although much more so now than it used to be.
Remembering the little people when their cheeks were big and rosy all the time…. sigh.