sushi chefs

March 20142

One of the kids’ favorite playtime activities at Granny and Grandpa’s is when my fun-loving dad pretends to be “da sushi chef.” With apron and cap on, grandchildren seated at the “restaurant table” in the garage, he’ll occasionally perform, dramatically miming a hyper chop-chop of ingredients for each child’s sushi roll of choice.

This past weekend, we took advantage of a long (still winter) weekend afternoon/evening to actually make our own sushi. Molly was finally able to put to use the sushi rolling mat that was in her Christmas stocking! These did not contain raw seafood — not because we wouldn’t have liked it, but because after three grocery stops without success finding roe or smoked salmon, I gave up. We made them with cucumber, imitation crab, avocado, sushi rice, and seaweed, following instructions we found online. 

Oh, yum! We all thought the sushi was so good, it didn’t even need a dip in soy sauce before going down our hatches. That was dinner, along with homemade miso soup and green tea.

Our kids are growing up with really eclectic and diverse food tastes, which really pleases Shane and me. We hope that means they will eat whatever is prepared for them at someone else’s house; that when a friend suggests a certain cuisine for a meal out, they’ll always find something on the menu they enjoy eating; and that they’ll be curious about and willing to try even more new things in the future. I have to admit that we greatly limit some foods, however…

I’ll let you in on one of the recent tales told in the van. (This is when nearly all the good stuff comes out, driving from place to place, my attention divided between traffic and passengers.) Apparently, about a year ago, one of his former schoolmates saw Finn eating crispy, green sheets (nori, a.k.a. seaweed) with his lunch and jeered, “Why are you eating grass?!” to which Finn tartly replied, “Why are you eating poop?”

This evidently wrought lots of laughter at the lunch table. The other kid, no longer so enamored of his dessert, asked his friend, “Do you want to share this with me?”

Finn said the other kid quickly replied, “I’m not eating your poop!”

“Poop!” I exclaimed. “What was he eating?”

“Chocolate Twinkies,” said Finn.

“Well, they weren’t Twinkies then,” I said. “Something like Twinkies — can’t remember what those chocolate cake things with chocolate frosting are called…”

“Yes, they were Twinkies,” said Molly. “Twinkies ARE chocolate.”

Hmm… No, they haven’t tried Twinkies yet. But I’m sure they would.

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