Black Bean Soup

The mostly empty fridge suggested a lunch of black bean soup.

Bowls of varying emptiness are still sitting on the lunch table. Evelyn and Clementine are back at work on drawings for a monarch butterfly drawing contest. I called Clementine away from her drawing to chop celery, measure olive oil, and stir the celery and onions as they softened. It would have been easier not to bother. She was engaged in her drawing and I could have had the kitchen to myself.

But it only took a few minutes for her to get into the cooking. She takes pride in her newfound can opening skills. Greta poured tomato sauce in and cried and stamped. She wanted to do the cooking, but she is too little.

Results: Clementine ate her soup. Half a bowl. With a lot of chips and too much lemonade. She didn't say she didn't like it, which is a big improvement over lunch cooked by me.

Greta would not try the soup. She ate a pear and chips and lemonade.

Evelyn ate all of her soup. And some avocado. She doesn't like to cook, but is the best eater of the three. She is the oldest which means that no candy crossed her lips until her first time trick-or-treating at over 2 years old.

But it is never too late to expand your palate, right? The older we get the fewer taste buds, they say, and suddenly we can tolerate and even enjoy all sorts of things. One of my goals for the next few months is to get Clementine to eat more raw fruits. I'm 39 and I ate raw goat for the first time last week. Raw meat is a new thing for me. If I can learn to love raw scallops and eat raw goat, then Clem can learn to eat fruits at age 8. I really want this to be true.

I guess we'll find out.