Give 'em real food

Guest blogger Heidi Shamsuddin is a mum of three and founder of Gourmet Goo Baby Food and Dish Deli Cafe (http://www.blogger.com/www.dish.com.my) which serves up wholesome food for the whole family. (http://dishdeli.blogspot.com/)

To be honest, getting my kids to eat healthy food has never been a problem for me simply because I’ve always cooked for my kids and they’re used to eating natural, real, non-processed food. Ok, maybe veggies are a challenge and salad? Just forget about it. According to my daughter Layla, “I’m not a rabbit and I refuse to eat leaves thank you!” (Such sarcasm in one so young….).

What my kids do love to eat is what I call REAL food; meals which are homemade using ingredients in their true-est form (if there is such a word). So today I decided to make my Lemon Roast Chicken – a family favourite. I prefer to bake things as it’s so much healthier (not to mention cleaner) than frying. All to often people take the easy route and fry food for the kids and the effect is that the kids get addicted and used to the taste of fried foods. You could add extra flavours by marinating or even use breadcrumbs to coat the chicken so that you still get that crispy, crunchy texture.

I kind of accidentally stumbled on this recipe when I went through a lemon phase and bought too many lemons. Johan and Layla love to spoon the gravy from the roast chicken over their rice until it threatens to turn into a soupy concoction and my hubby enjoys it too. In fact, the adults usually add a little chopped birds’ eye chilli for that extra kick! Baby Haris who is not even 2 yet also loves this dish although for some strange reason today he refuses to eat it from his own plate and only wants it from my hubby’s plate!

Another thing about getting kids to eat real food is that the whole family must absolutely eat together at the table at least for 1 meal a day. And don’t bother with different meals for the kids and for the adults – who has the time to make 2 different meals eh? When the kids see us enjoying the same food as them, they are more likely to eat it and to try new things.

So here’s the recipe for my Easy Peasy Lemon Roast Chicken. Feeds 2 adults, 2 hungry kids and 1 baby.

1 Whole Medium Sized Chicken – washed and dried

Garlic- 6 cloves unpeeled and left whole

Lemon zest from 1 lemon

Lemon – 1 cut in half Salt and pepper - 1 teaspoon

Dried Thyme – 1 teaspoon (optional)

Yellow onion – Cut up in rings

Potatoes – 2 medium size, quartered

Carrots – 2 medium size, chopped in chunks

For the Gravy:

Water – 1- 2 cups

Flour – 1 tablespoon

Salt and pepper – to taste

Preheat the oven to 200 C. Rub the chicken (inside and out) with salt, pepper, lemon zest and dried thyme. Cut the lemon in half and rub the lemon all over the chicken. Put the lemon and 3 cloves of garlic inside the chicken. Actually you can use as many garlic cloves as you like – because it’s roasted whole in it’s skin, the garlic cooks down into a beautifully mellow flavour. I can easily eat a mountain of roasted garlic just like that but a word of warning, it is not the most sociable thing to do…

Rub some olive oil all over the chicken and place on a bed of onions in a roasting tray. Season the chopped up potato, carrots and remaining garlic with a bit of salt pepper and olive oil and place around the chicken in the tray.

Put the tray in a preheated oven and bake for 10 minutes at 200 C. After 10 minutes, turn the temperature down to 180 C and bake for a further 45 minutes until the chicken is golden brown. There is no need to turn the chicken.

Once cooked, place the chicken on a chopping board and cover with some aluminium foil to rest the bird. This is important because it makes the meat moist. Place the potatoes, carrots and garlic in a serving dish.

To make the gravy place the roasting tin (with the cooked onions) directly on your cooker hob on medium fire and add some water. Use a whisk to scrape up all the juicy chicken-ny bits and add the flour to thicken. Taste for seasoning. I like a smooth gravy so I usually strain the gravy but you can leave as it is if you want. Cut the chicken and serve with the vegetables and gravy with some nice bread or hot fluffy rice.

Unplugged, unwired, disconnect

I’m not so Amish that I have never used the TV, laptop or phone to entertain E – especially in a time crunch emergency. Let’s be honest: a lot can be done during the half hour that Manny mends something.

But I’m not comfortable with how essential these gadgets and gizmos have become on kids’ play list. So I’m always looking for ways to occupy E with toys that don’t require a plug point or batteries. Blocks, Play Doh, finger painting, colouring, drawing, reading, running around, playing in his plastic pool, chasing birds, picking up leaves...honestly, I’m running out of ideas and Manny is still winning by a mile!

My latest discovery is a plastic version of a Japanese fishing game. The original net is actually made with paper that will disintegrate in the water so kids race against time to scoop out as many live fish as possible.( I know this because they did this once on Amazing Race Asia. It’s ok; my mom is fine with me watching TV.)

I found this in Daiso, and E and I spent the better half of Saturday morning fishing, creating mini whirlpools in the basin and getting wet. For some educational value, I tried to get him to fish by colours, shapes and numbers, but mostly, we just fished for fun.

He managed a half hour on the game and probably could have gone on longer if I didn’t pull him away because he was thoroughly soaked!

Did he learn anything? I don’t know. Is there any use in knowing how to fish floating plastic bits? But I’d like to think manipulating the net helped develop his motor skills and because there was so much risk of mayhem, I was forced to stay put and play with him instead of checking Facebook or reading the papers.

Tomorrow he’ll probably be asking for ‘Hot Dog!’ (that’s code for Mickey Mouse) but today, it’s 1 for me, 0 for the wired world.

Things I never thought I would say

More accurately, things my Mom used to say that I never thought I would say:
1.“Because I said so”: This used to drive my sisters and I nuts! Whenever Mom was losing an argument with us, she would shut us out by laying this line. End of discussion.
2. “I’m doing this for your own good”: I always wondered why the things that were for my good often didn’t feel very good. Like tuition classes and piano lessons.
3. “Someday you will thank me”: Really? Someday I will thank you for making me spend two miserable weeks in this camp with horrible kids? B (my sister) will be grateful that you grounded her from her own prom?
4. “I know better”: Even when she didn’t, she did...if you know what I mean.
5. “Too bad”: Nobody could accuse my Mother of trying too hard to please us. She’s unapologetic in her parenting. Don’t like it? Tough. Deal with it.

Romance? Bah, humbug

The first Valentine’s I celebrated with my husband after we started dating, he took me back to the restaurant where we had our first date. It wasn’t fancy but it was a lovely Valentine’s meal. Well, anything is lovely when in the first flushes of love, isn’t it?

The second year, he cooked me a candlelight dinner complete with a heart-shaped “gourmet burger” (his words, not mine). Totally cheesy but so sweet, right? The third year, he went to the hawker centre near my house to tapau. And so began the downward slide.

At the time, with my eye on the prize – diamond engagement ring, wedding and house – I willingly went along with it. The less he spent on those blood-sucking, opportunistic establishments, the bigger and more scintillating the ring. Or so I thought.

Of course, once you lower your standards, there is no way a smart man will let you go back. And so every successive Valentine’s since have been spent without fanfare. One year we even forgot it was Valentine’s and ended up caught out in the mall with nowhere to eat because there were surprisingly enough suckers to jam up every restaurant and the carpark in One U.

This year, we’re not even going to be together! I made plans to have dinner with a group of friends, three of whom are also married with kids proving the point that marriage and kids really do kill off all any semblance of romance.

So excuse me if I’m a bit of a Scrooge about the whole celebration of love. I hope you have a real romantic one – at least someone is getting some of that Cupid action.

My baby is THE cutest baby. No, really.

All parents are delusional when it comes to their kids. We think they are the cutest, smartest, prettiest, most adorable...fill in your superlative of choice here.

Like all you totally biased moms out there, I think my son is the bee’s knees. I secretly believe he could be part genius. The kid can recognise his alphabets and numbers at 22 months! Surely that must be sign of high levels of intelligence? And he does the dardnest things and says the funniest things! Ok, sorry, I am gushing and showing off under the guise of blogging.

But I’m also a realist. I think my kid is pretty darn cute but in all honesty, he’s not going to win any ‘cutest baby in the world’ contest. Have you seen some of the competition out there? It’s brutal!

Besides, everyone can’t be the cutest baby. Someone has to fill up the middle range. And as long as he’s not scraping the bottom of the barrel, I’m cool.

As far as I’m concerned, all kids and babies are cute. How can something below 3-feet and speaks with a squeak not be cute?? But that’s just me.

The people at babyGap and GapKids are probably a better judge of who are the Miss Universe equivalents in the baby/kids world. And as it happens, they are having a casting call for the new faces of babyGap and GapKids.

So if you believe absolutely, positively that your child is definitely, unreservedly the top baby/kid then I’d say you should hot foot over to The Gardens or One Utama this month for a chance at fame and bragging rights. Click on the postcard for more details or go to the Gap Malaysia Facebook page.

Psst! I must warn you though that Z, my friend’s daughter, and R, another friend’s son, are really the cutest kid and baby around, and they are going for the casting.

Playing SAHM

The house went into complete lock down last week because the little one caught the chicken pox bug that’s been going round. That means Mommy – and it’s almost always the Mommy’s job isn’t it? – had to take time off to play nurse-cum-slave.

Like most working moms, I’m always lamenting about how little time I have with my son. But this enforced week of playing stay-at-home-mom (SAHM) has been most revealing. In particular, the revelation is that I can’t be one – a SAHM.

The Prince isn’t angelic by any standards but he’s ok. And thank God, even when afflicted with chicken pox he was mostly manageable. In fact, he probably had more energy and enthusiasm than he normally does – and that’s already a lot!

All in all, I would say we survived the whole ordeal pretty well. We read, we played, we bonded and took naps together. It’s what I always imagined I wanted since he was born. It was a great week but every day? I honestly don’t know where I will find the strength, ingenuity, patience and all those other saintly qualities needed when dealing with a strong-willed 20-month old boy!

So while I envy the league of SAHMs for the quality time they have with their little ones, I’m equally glad to hang on to my job – with a death grip, might I add.

Stop already!

If I wrote the rules on Facebook, you know what I would ban? Parents – specifically parents who go on and on about their kids.

I can accept it if Junior achieved a significant milestone and you want to share it with the world. First steps, first words, first tooth, graduation from kindergarten (though I totally don’t get that...but ask me again when my son gets to that stage and I may feel differently), passing exams with flying colours, made school prefect...

A period of illness followed by news of recovery are acceptable as are funny anecdotes of the dardnest things she said (a chuckle is always good). The occasional mundane but heart warming post about how much you love the princess is also ok lah – occasional being the operative word here.

Not so ok are daily blow-by-blow accounts of the little bub’s every move. “Oh, he pooped. Oh, he’s turning left and now right. Oh, he smiled.” The painful but honest truth is that NOBODY cares.

If you got nothing interesting to say, don’t say it! Just post up photos or videos and let the pictures do the talking. I promise you, you will get more ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ than all that nonsense rambling. And people will like you more...and maybe even unblock you.

Lovey dovey

I’ve been married for all of five years so I don’t consider myself much of an expert. Practical person that I am, I’ve never bought into the romance song-and-dance much anyway. I would, in all honesty, be ecstatic if my husband bought me a vacuum cleaner for Christmas instead of diamond earrings! Really!

The greatest love stories for me are those that survive the mundane and dull, the rigours of day-to-day living, the gradual softening of the middle and slackening of everything else. And when life is done with them, they still say it’s been the best ride.

We would be so lucky if my husband and I could have a story like Danny and Annie’s. Standby the tissues before you click here to watch it (http://vimeo.com/12562270).

To test or not?

I remember when I collected my SPM results. I was crushed. I was a couple of As short of my target. But that despondency lasted all of 10 minutes because I had a first date with this guy I had a hugest crush on! What’s my point? That a couple of tests and exams won’t kill our kids.

Instead of abolishing UPSR, PMR and SPM, we should be looking at the education system and perhaps, our own attitude on the chase for As. My Mom had only one requirement of us – do your best. Ok, and maybe, don’t fail. Apart from that, there was no pressure to collect As and outdo Mrs Lee’s daughter. That made taking exams a manageable part of student life.

Besides, if you have read Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers: The Story of Success you’ll discover that success has a lot to do with discipline and rigours of practice and repetition. So if it’s geniuses you want to raise, stick with public examinations. It’ll do him/her good.

The parenting divide

There is a gross misconception that parents are snobby elitist. That we go around purposely excluding non-parents with our ‘war’ stories about breastfeeding, sleepless nights, teething woes, diarrhoea dramas and what-have-yous.

The truth is it’s the non-parents who are cutting us out. My friends make plans to catch the latest movie – at midnight. Or they say we should do a girls get together – in Bali. “They don’t get that everything we do is four times the cost and hassle,” laments Chrissy, a mother of two, about her non-parents friends.

It’s not we parents except our non-parents friends to stop having fun just because we are now saddled with strollers and diaper bags. But hey, once it a while, couldn’t we lunch at a kid-friendly place where they give out crayons and activity sheets? That would be nice.

And trust us; we don’t always want to talk about school, discipline problems and where to score the cheapest milk powder or diapers. It’s just that you non-parents won’t let us get a foot into your fabulous, fun and free lives.

So cut us some slack won’t you? Lunch at Marmalade this Sunday? I’ll bring my own crayons.

Me, a kiasu parent?

I’m a kiasu parent. There. I’ve admitted it.

I always imagined myself to be a relaxed, what-ever-will-be type. The one who gives her child plenty of room to grow, explore and discover at his own pace. The one who wouldn’t sit through homework with him, pack his school bag and read up his curriculum before he does. No, I would be too cool for that.

But I’m not. My son is just 14 months and I’m already comparing him to his peers. “Joshua can count, you know,” I tell my husband. “And Pei Sze is doodling. How come our son isn’t doing these things yet?” I fret. Am I doing something wrong? Not giving him the right milk? Not spending enough time teaching him the finer things of toddlerhood?

Who is this crazy Mom-zilla? And when did I become her? Help!

Mr. Right Now will do too

Sara called last night to tell me that things are off with what’s-his-face. Technically, they were not dating so it isn’t a break up per se. But functionally, it might as well have been a six-month relationship – the dates, the fights and make ups, the long conversations late into the night. But what’s-his-face claimed he only thought of her “as a very good friend.” Whatever.

There are definitely more misses than hits when you date in your 30s. The men are either commitment-phobic or bogged down with issues and baggage (that you don’t want to deal with). Or there’s just no chemistry even though he is an absolute sweetheart. Or there are sparks aplenty...but he only wants to be your ‘sister’ not your soul mate. (Ok, sometimes it’s the women’s fault too.)

Are all the good ones really taken? I am sometimes tempted to think so. But then a wedding invitation will come from someone who had found love later in life – and in a most unexpected, romantic way that it makes you want to believe in love again. So maybe there is hope yet, Sara.

I peep over at my slumbering husband. The shining armour has long been traded in for the most unsightly T-shirts. Instead of taking me out for dates, he offers to check in on our son at 3am so I don’t have to. The flowers and gifts? They stopped even before we got married. But I’m still glad we had the last 10 years together. And that we didn’t have to sift through the complexities of dating in our 30s to find each other.

Now, excuse me while I go wipe the drool before it stains the pillow cases, again.

Saying ‘No’ Is Great!

Great organisations are defined by what they say no to. The same is true for great individual careers. A great career is one where the individual made the type of contribution he or she believed was the optimal use of his or her talents, passions, and values and generated the types of desired outcomes that he or she wanted. In other words, the person generated both the desired input and output. Manifesting such a career requires saying yes to a few key opportunities and saying no to a huge number of good, and possibly great, opportunities. What are your thoughts on the matter?

Danger On The Escalator

A young relative of mine had his left foot caught in an escalator last Saturday. He’s only three but had to endure excruciating pain for an entire 40 minutes before paramedics managed to release his foot. This happened at Centerpoint in Bandar Utama as his mother held his hand, ascending the escalator. His tiny foot had stood too close to the back of the escalator wall, that it was pulled ankle-first into and crushed in between the horizontal and diagonal surface of the mechanics. He was rushed in an ambulance to the Damansara Specialist Hospital where doctors performed surgery to stitch skin and flesh, and align his foot back into place. Three bones had been broken. Young and feisty Abdullah was lucky no tendon was damaged. Doctors say he will walk again in three to four weeks. What could have caused the accident and what could have prevented it? Do we ban young children on escalators or do we review the shoe model to see if the fabric had indeed caused the accident to happen? Hundreds of cases of have been reported in the US and Japan about young children experiencing escalator mishaps. And they all had one thing in common: they were wearing the same shoe brand. Reason to question style and brand name over safety and regulations? It’s about time.

Her Say or His?

Decision-making in a relationship: To watch Oprah or ESPN? Whose hometown are we going back to this festive season? Who’s car to sell off in order to get a bigger car? How do you arrive at a decision when there are differing tastes/opinions/commitments in a relationship? Share with us your views and tell us how you find a compromise.