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We went to the market today, and had a really lovely time.  The weather has turned a bit cool over the past couple of days, but the sun came out just as the kids arrived to see Lee, who had been there, shivering, since dawn.  The Fredericton market in the spring and summer is lots of fun, and I adore the cornucopia of colourful edibles…but I forgot my camera today, oh well.  We hung around and helped Lee sell some pots, and then everyone got squirrelly, so I had a “big fight” with Horus in the market square, and we [pretend] punched and kicked and karate chopped each other, and I twirled him around and had a little chase–which is one of our favourite ways to blow off steam, and avoid sibling squabbles. Horus is very performative, curious and morally aware, but when he is nearing the end of his patience, he tends to channel the more aggressive and conflicted characters that he reads about, so I try to step in and give him a fun and appropriate punching bag (myself) rather than his little sister.  Felix, still, is enjoying the protection that being totally adorable even in his older brother’s eyes, accords him.  I hope no one was alarmed, at the market, by seeing Horus and me in battle–it was all theatre, I promise.

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It is fiddlehead season.  If you’re not familiar, fiddleheads are the still-curled new shoots of our native fern, and all along the back-roads, us rural folk are selling fresh fiddleheads by the pound, and they’re at the market, too.  The last time we were in Carleton County, visiting Lee’s parents, the kids went down to the river with Gramy and picked a pound or so to bring home.  Fiddleheads are somewhat similar in flavour to what a combination of broccoli and asparagus might taste like, with a rather rubbery, soapy texture which, I admit, sounds disgusting, but isn’t at all.  I love them, and I love them only lightly sautéed, (not cooked to death!) and when they get left in the fridge a little too long (which only really happens when we go all-out with our fiddleheading), they are delightful as a creamed soup.

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I read an article the other day that instructed me on how to make a proper stir-fry, which, apparently, involves cooking each ingredient separately, and not even dreaming of throwing everything into a frying pan together.  I laughed and laughed.  There is no chance of that, both on account of my circumstances (constant chaos, not wanting to spend any more time in the kitchen than necessary), and also because  it takes away the challenge of timing the throwing-in-of-everything s0 that the outcome is edible.

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I do take care to throw everything in at the *right* time, which is really determined by how one likes one’s vegetables.  Just as I don’t like fiddleheads cooked to a mush, similarly most green cruciferous vegetables do well with a bit of tooth–broccoli, beans, etc.  So those go in last, while the onions and garlic will sautee first, along with any meat or chicken, if these are involved,( and only if they are meant to be thoroughly cooked which would not, in my books, include beef which I prefer blueish).

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In this case, our fiddlehead stir-fry was only a bit of duck fat, minced garlic, fiddleheads, and some cashew nuts, (which I avoid in their conventional form on account of hefty amounts of pesticides and a kind of mould which both cashews and peanuts often carry, but oh well), and then afterwards I threw in some fresh halved cherry tomatoes, and a splash of balsamic.

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I want to say that everyone ate it, but to be quite honest, I only really know that *I* ate it, and so did Felix, and I think the others made do…And I want to point out that I highly recommend this form of benign indifference to what the kids are eating.  And in fact, I am coming to believe more and more that a benign indifference to what our kids eat–*combined* with creating a strong family culture of food, and making sure that the foods available in our homes are real–is one of the keys to raising kids who have a really healthy relationship to food.

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More on that later.

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Have a wonderful weekend!

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Yolande