Gastronomical Subterfuge‏

by Lori Dwyer on March 8, 2013 · 5 comments

My children are fussy, finicky eaters. The Chop especially. He takes after me. The Bump has inherited her father’s appetite (”Can’t talk, eating…”), but has still been sadly influenced by me. Both my kids will pick and pull at food. They often demand nothing but garlic bread for dinner. On the rare occasion I do get them to the something new, they gag to the– point I’m almost positive it’s involuntary.

The anti–food phenomenon is absolutely my fault; and the requisite parental guilt is gutting and hollow and flagellating. I’d always naively assumed that the process of teaching my kids to eat healthy would be one of those things that just ’happened’, as if by some kind of magical intervention. I think things like that a lot. My own mother made parenting look so easy.

Actually, to be completely honest, I’d always assumed that The Chop and The Bump would pick up their dad’s relatively healthy taste for all manner of different foods. Had he stuck around for long enough, they might have.

But it didn’t quite work out that way and, after the sky fell in, so did my attempts at cooking. My little darlings have developed the eating habits of their mother. Very, very bad ones. Or, as I like to say, we are ’simple eaters with limited tastes’. Because that makes it sound so much better.

Like most kids, mine would both eat nothing but junk food, given half the chance (and let’s face it, so would I). In order to maintain some control over what we munch on, I’ve taken to trying not to fill the kitchen cupboards with junk food. If all they will snack on is yoghurt, fruit, sultanas, cheese and biscuits…. then that is all I will buy.

In theory, that works wonderfully.

In reality, it’s never that easy. Some days it feels as though the array of foods my children consider ’acceptable for digestion’ is shrinking and waning– they eat less and less. Each week they strike another foodstuff off the list with declarations of “I don’t like that!” and “Neither do I!!”

I get the feeling God is laughing me and my foolish best–of-plans intentions. Home made baby food. Carefully prepared toddler snacks. And two kids who, some days, seem to get all the nourishment they need from a packet of popcorn, an orange and a tub of yoghurt.

Somewhere along the line– a year or so ago, I do believe– I gave up on the dream and illusion that was raw, unprocessed foods, and started buying anything that looked even reasonably healthy and appealing, in order to get the little darlings to eat something– anything– other than milk arrowroot biscuits

Most attempts have been utter failures.

The Bump and I spent an inordinate amount of time playing with these. They look just like they're having a conversation, do they not?!

The Bump and I spent an inordinate amount of time playing with these. They look just like they’re having a conversation, do they not?!

And I actually thought that the SPC Fruit Crush–Ups thingies I had been sent to review would end up the same as most everything else I’ve tried– that is, relegated to the occasional parcels of untouched food that I pass on to friends whose children are less fussy than mine.

Initial trials showed the Fruit Crush–Ups to be unsuccessful, led in opinion by the Chop (the Bump, in general, defers to his decisions. As little sisters do). I’m not sure how this conclusion was reached. The packets are pretty. It’s one handed, which is important for busy kidlets. and there are six– six– different flavours to choose from. No child can be that fussy.

Except mine.

Numerous attempts to beg, bribe and coerce the children into just trying the bleeping things, please, resulted in… Failure. I froze them. I chilled them. I decanted them into glasses with straws and bowls with spoons. (All of that refer to the SPC’s, obviously, not the kids). I even put the strawberry over ice cream, for pity’s sake.

Fruit Crush-Ups over ice cream. Like au naturel strawberry topping!

Fruit Crush-Ups over ice cream. Like au naturel strawberry topping!

No, nay, nuh–uh, no way. Ugh.

“Please? Try it? Just once?” I beg the Chop, “it’s for my blog.”

That results in a wary, slightly worried look. He knows that ’mum’s blog’ is where lots of cool things– like PS3′s, road trips and Skylanders eventuate from. “You will still have your blog but, if I don’t try it, right Mummy?”

“Yes.” I sigh, “of course. But really, you should try them. They’re yummy. They’ve been named Product of the Year!” I am clutching at straws here and he knows it.

“No. Thanks.” At least he’s polite.

Eventually, I resort to total subterfuge and stealthily pack the Fruit Crush–Ups into lunch bags, for big school and daycare, hoping to sneak them into my kids subconscious via peer pressure and distraction. Unfortunately, the Chop is far too old for this kind of disillusionment, and the Crush–Up returned untouched.

But the Bump… she’s still just a baby, bless her, and it’s far too easy to play with her mind sometimes. At the daycare teachers insistence that the Fruit Crush-Ups were, in fact, ’way cool!’, the Bump not only tried it, but loved it. And has polished off half a box of them since then.

Total success.


If you’d like to broaden your kids foodstuff intake and add an extra half piece of fruit to their day in a stealthy squeezie pack that can be frozen as an ice pack for lunchboxes (killing both the snack and potential food poisoning birds with one frozen stone!); I’ve got a whole terms worth of SPC Fruit Crush–Ups to give away– that’s eight of each six flavours, RRP $1.29 each, all to the one lucky winner. To be that winner, tell me in 25 words or less–ish; what is the ultimate subterfuge you have pulled on your kids, to get them to eat what they don’t want to?

This comp is open to Aussie residents only. It opens now and closes midnight 22nd March. The winning answer will be whatever tickles my pickle and makes me smile at the time of drawing. Winners must have a valid email address, and will be contacted soon after the competition closes. Winners have 48 hours to respond to the winning email or the comp may be redrawn. My desicion is final and no bitching, whinging or discussion will be entered into.

This post has been sponsored by the awesome people at SPC.

Can’t see a form? Click here…


This Is (Still) Not A Foodie Blog.

by Lori Dwyer on February 18, 2013 · 8 comments

As I’m sure I’m mentioned once or twice or a thousand times before; I love going to blog events. Conference, meet–up, PR schmooze fest… I don’t discriminate. My fellow bloggers are my people– my over–sharing, nerdy kinfolk.

Amongst all the stuff I find myself attending, the bestest of them all is the quad–yearly Bloggers Brunch. Which has now been extended to include the Social Mums Say events. (Long story, short– you don’t have to be a blogger to go to this one. Register here).

I get to catch up with people I worship and adore daily through the screen. On this occasion– fresh and sparkly and still very firmly in my Melbourne bubble– I got to eat, drink and play with MagnetoBoldToo, Toushka Lee Who’s Even Shorter Than Me, Thing Who Is With Stuff, and my lovely Jo from Chicken Bees.

One thing we get to do at these events is eat. Lots. Because eating is awesome.

As you may have picked from the jellybean decor, my irrational fear of vegetables or indiscriminate hate of seafood… I’m really not a health–food kind of chick. (To the amusement of most everyone I know… The Most Awesome Man In The Universe is, of course, a vegetarian).

So when I discovered that Philadelphia was one of the brands we’d be meeting with at the Bloggers Brunch last year, I was initially so much less than enthused that I stashed a couple of lollipops in my handbag, just in case. Because, in all honesty, all I could think was… cream cheese. Which is about number 12 on my (long) list of things I really, really don’t like eating.

So I was more than happily surprised to discover… cake. A whole table of cake.

A whole table of cake covered in chocolate.

And all of a sudden, Philly became one of my favourite brands ever.

While I’m slightly better with baking (making sweet stuff I can stuff my gob with) than actual cooking (making boring or evil foods such as vegetables), I still suck at making cheesecake. Which was, as far as I knew the only sweet stuff you could make with Philadelphia. In fact, the last cheesecake I attempted was a unset, kind of sweet, sloppy mush studded with hard little cubes of re–set gelatine.

The Philly ladies assure me that cheesecake is not actually that difficult. And even if it was, I wouldn’t necessarily have to make one. There is, apparently, a whole range of product destined to shift Philadelphia’s status from ’boring and healthy, to be eaten with rabbit food’ to ’oh my goodness look at that cake!’

And, in celebration of that, we have all stuffed our faces with delicious Philly desserts, in the most unladylike fashion, for the last three or four functions in a row. They are that good.

I think there’s a recipe I’m supposed to be sharing with you here. But, really, in the spirit of RRSAHM, I should probably just let you in on my recently discovered, super decadent, ridiculously easy and simple dessert idea.

Step one: Take one tub of chocolate Philly icing.

Step Two: Locate spoon.

Step three: Eat straight from the tub until you are so full you can barely hardly move.

Because, sad but true– that happens to be the way I cook.
You’re welcome.

This awesome Social Mums Say wrap up sponsored by Philadelphia. For more Philly inspired recipes visit