Do you serve kids?

Hillel Cooperman of [Tastingmenu](http://www.tastingmenu.com/) has posted an amazing treatise on taking kids to restaurants. Everything he says is a shining nugget of truth, especially this:

> The moment you walk into a restaurant with your children an invisible timer starts ticking. You can’t see this timer so you have no idea how much time you have left until it rings. But trust me, it will go off. And when it does, your child will become unmanageable and you will have to leave the restaurant.

In our experience, at least, certain ages are much better for restaurant outings than others. We took newborn Iris out for Thai food many times, and she slept in the Baby Bjorn. At five months, we wouldn’t have taken Iris to McDonald’s, even if we liked McDonald’s: she only napped well at home, couldn’t eat a fry, and couldn’t claw her way out of a ball crawl for money.

Depending on the temperament of your baby, you may find, like we did, that just under a year old is an awesome time to take a baby to a restaurant. They’re interested in everything, haven’t really developed any food dislikes, and there’s plenty of time between naps. Around this time, we first took Iris for sushi, and she ate tempura, spicy tuna roll, eel, mackerel, and everything else we ordered. All this with two teeth.

That was the high point. Things are a little trickier now. On Tuesday we all went to a rather swanky Vietnamese restaurant, Tamarind Tree. We got a table near a crackling fireplace and ordered a bunch of dishes, like duck noodle soup, braised clay-pot fish, stir-fried green beans and tofu, crispy rice cakes with shrimp, salad rolls with pork meatballs, and *bo la lot,* which is ground beef wrapped in a fragrant leaf and fried.

Iris did okay. She ate a bunch of the rice cake (which was pretty damn good) and the tofu. (“Iris eating a tofu and a big tofu!”) She rejected the fish, even though it was sweet and tender and I’m sure she would have loved it a few months ago. In her defense, she was on the verge of a bad cold. Mostly she wanted to check out the fire, the christmas tree (which now that I think about it was rather alarmingly close to the fire) and other decorations.

The only advice I can think to add to Hillel’s recommendations is: become regulars at a Chinese restaurant. I’ll tell you about ours in a future post.

Oh, I thought the food at Tamarind Tree was pretty good, albeit greasy. But nobody’s interested in what *I* think anymore; the only food critic of any renown in this family is easy for restaurateurs to spot, because she’s 2'6".

Beans and sweets

Iris’s favorite meal from about age nine to fifteen months was canned black beans and canned sweet potatoes. I’d put a little butter and cumin on the beans and just cut the sweet potatoes into chunks. Beans are pretty much the perfect baby food: they’re full of fiber and protein, bite-sized, and easy to chew. (Just like babies themselves!) Plus, everyone expects babies to be gassy anyway.

Probably Iris would be delighted to have canned black beans for lunch anytime, but I wouldn’t, and now that she’s a little person rather than just a baby, I feel weird serving her something I wouldn’t eat myself. So I needed to find a bean dish that the whole family could enjoy.

Trouble is, I’ve never been a big bean fan. Now I’m coming around. It will not surprise you to learn that this involves copious amounts of pork.

The first step in my bean education was discovering fresh cranberry beans at the farmers market a couple of years ago. Fresh beans, which are fairly expensive and good only in the summer and early fall, are to dried beans what fresh pasta is to dried pasta. Dried beans are always going to be the old reliable, but prepared certain ways, fresh beans are a remarkable change of pace. They’re easy and fun to shell (Iris helps), and the beans themselves are speckled and cute like little dinosaur eggs. You can throw them into a braise (they’re pretty much impossible to overcook) or boil them for twenty minutes and season them with olive oil, salt, and pepper for a more Tuscan approach. The best thing I’ve done with them is throw some into corn chowder.

Shelling bean season is over now, though, so we have a go-to dried bean recipe. I’ve had plenty of bad luck cooking dried beans in the past, ending up with a pot full of beans cooked to random doneness, one bean collapsing into much and the next tooth-crackingly hard. Now I know how to avoid that, for the most part: don’t buy old beans.

Dried beans seem like they’ll last forever, but actually they get weird after sitting around for years and don’t cook right. So buy the freshest dried beans you can. How can you tell “fresh” dried beans from old skanky ones? You can’t, so buy your beans in one of two places: at a farmers market (a vendor at mine sells dried cranberry beans from this summer, and they are awesome) or in a bulk food bin as seen at creepy natural foods stores and many supermarkets. Never buy dried beans in a plastic bag; they could be fine, but it’s not worth the risk.

Also, dried beans take longer to cook than I thought. The bean recipe I’m about to share with you cooks for about two and a half hours. I would have expected the beans to dissolve into soup by that time, but they don’t. In fact, I’ve cooked canned beans for a couple of hours and they didn’t fall apart. I’m not sure how this rumor got started. Maybe beans fall apart if you boil the hell out of them or something.

So, without further ado, here’s a Rick Bayless bean recipe.

**Drunken Pintos**
Adapted from Rick Bayless’s Mexican Kitchen
Serves 4 to 6

1 pound dried pintos or cranberry beans
10 cups water
4 ounces pork shoulder, cut into 1/2 inch dice (buy a small pack of country-style ribs or a shoulder steak)
4 slices thick-cut bacon, cut crosswise into 1/2 inch strips
1 medium yellow onion, diced
2 large jalapeños, sliced
1-1/2 teaspoons salt
3 tablespoons tequila
1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro

1. Rinse the beans and place in a large pot with water and pork shoulder. Bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer, and cook, partially covered, two hours or until the beans are evenly tender. Add more water as necessary to keep the beans below the water line.

2. While the beans are cooking, fry the bacon until crisp. Remove the bacon to a paper towel-lined plate. Pour off some of the drippings. Cook the jalapeño and onion in the remaining bacon fat over medium heat for about ten minutes, until nicely browned.

3. When the beans are tender, stir the salt and the cooked bacon, jalapeño, and onion into the bean pot. The finished dish should be quite soupy, so add more water if necessary. Continue simmering for 20 minutes to blend the flavors. Stir in the tequila and cilantro and serve with warm corn tortillas.

Lunch without shame

Cooking dinner for the family is easy. Lunch is hard.

Pre-Iris, I used to eat lunch out at every available opportunity. Beef teriyaki and a couple of pieces of mackerel sushi at Hana. Two slices of sausage and onion pizza at Pagliacci. Chicken peperonata sandwich at Red Line.

Now, lunch out is an occasional luxury, and I don’t have Laurie here to entertain Iris while I get lunch ready, so I’m not going to be in the kitchen debearding mussels. Lunch needs to be ready in ten minutes or less.

The best quick lunch is leftovers, and I do my best to plan dinners that result in good leftovers. If there are a lot of leftovers, though, I’d rather save them for dinner the next day. Sometimes we get takeout–Iris has long been fond of the beef, cabbage, and cheese piroshky from My Favorite Piroshky.

But it’s hard to resist the siren song of convenience food at lunch, and we’ve been known to eat things like frozen lasagna, which kind of sucks. But convenience food covers an enormous range of items from inedible to pretty good. I’ll try to spotlight something on the “pretty good” end of the spectrum from time to time.

At the top of our list is Safeway potstickers, which Iris calls “dumplings.” (I realize there are whole swaths of the country that also call potstickers “dumplings,” so maybe Iris is from New York and we just never noticed.) Made with chicken and pork, scallions and crunchy lotus root, Safeway potstickers are better than plenty I’ve had in actual Asian restaurants. The filling doesn’t have that “chewy hunk of meat” quality–it’s smooth, and the dumpling wrappers gets nice and crunchy. (Iris likes hers extra-crunchy.) They take ten minutes to make.

Usually I serve dumplings with some frozen peas. I nuke them and put on some soy sauce, sesame oil, and black pepper. Until recently, I didn’t realize there were two kinds of frozen peas, petite and regular. Iris and I both prefer the regular peas. I guess we’re just tough characters who won’t put up with this petite vegetable crap.

This is a totally great lunch–today’s lunch, in fact. As I pushed her stroller up the hill from Grandma’s house today, I said, “Should we have some dumplings for lunch?”

“And some soy sauce and some hot sauce,” she replied. “Hot sauce a little spicy.” (Iris likes having puddles of soy sauce and hot sauce on her plate for dipping. Right now we have Frank’s RedHot.)

Of course, there are some things Iris likes even better than dumplings. While we were eating our lunch, I said, “Iris, after we finish our dumplings, should we have some pumpkin ice cream?”

She extracted a half-chewed dumpling from her mouth, put it on her plate, and pushed the plate way. “Iris all done.”

Auditions

We’re planning to have family over for Christmas dinner this year, so we’ve been trying out some recipe ideas. The failed roast duck from last week was one idea. Tonight we tried, with much more success, the Mock Porchetta from the Zuni Cafe Cookbook. Iris liked it, especially the pan sauce. Several times, Iris has convinced me to put broth into a glass so she can drink it. Tonight she was willing to eat it with a spoon. Also, when the roast was coming out of the oven:

> **Laurie:** Iris, do you think the roast will be hot and crusty?

> **Iris:** Yes. Hot and snuggly.

All parts of our Christmas dinner are subject to a rigorous interview process in addition to the tryout:

**Q:** What is mock porchetta, exactly?

**A:** It’s boneless pork shoulder stuffed with an herb mixture featuring rosemary, sage, fennel, garlic, capers, and crushed peppercorns, then surrounded by winter vegetables and roasted for hours until tender.

**Q:** Sounds good. But why is it “mock”?

**A:** Because the seasonings are modeled on the Italian dish *porchetta,* which involves a whole pig.

**Q:** You wimp. Why aren’t you making the whole pig?

**A:** My family is Jewish, and whole pigs aren’t kosher.

**Q:** What else are you going to serve for Christmas dinner?

**A:** We’re thinking of starting with small servings of baked pasta and finishing with a pear-cranberry tart from the November 2005 Fine Cooking. To drink, there will undoubtedly be the new cranberry Ephemere beer from Unibroue.

**Q:** Is this supposed to be Matthew interviewing the roast or someone interviewing
Matthew or what?

**A:** Interviewing a roast, now that’s just silly.

**Q:** While we’re on the subject of mock foods, what’s mock turtle soup, anyway?

**A:** I have no idea.

Adventures of the Caffeine Kid

Iris has been hanging out in coffeehouses since she was a week old, when I started taking her to Espresso Vivace. At six pounds, she was too small for even a Baby Bjorn, so I would carry her in one of those precarious-looking baby slings, the kind that make otherwise normal people ask, “Is there a real *baby* in there?” Having a baby in tow is a great way to become a regular; you’re no longer some guy, you’re The Guy With the Baby.

Vivace provides a nice kids’ play area in the back, but Iris has never been that interested in it, because going to a coffeehouse is entertainment in itself. There are weird hissing sounds and coffee smells and a mix of people. Vivace makes among Seattle’s best espresso drinks, so people flock to it from all over town–people in suits, people with a hundred piercings, and every kind of person in between, including plenty of people who, like me, get all their work done in coffeehouses. Quickly I was established as a decaf macchiato guy.

Soon Iris was old enough to taste a dot of macchiato foam. Then I would hand her the espresso spoon, and this was the most exciting thing she’d ever held, even though she was completely unable to spoon anything up with it. We stole several Vivace spoons, so I guess I introduced her to drugs and crime in the same place.

Finally, she was ready to have her own madeleine, which is the perfect cookie for a baby, because it’s so soft and crumbly. Recently Iris was reading the Martha Stewart Holiday Cookies magazine and came across a full-page photo of a madeleine. “Madeleine! Iris eat one sometimes at Joe Bar,” she said. Joe Bar is another of our favorite coffeehouses, and they have crepes. We usually get a lemon crepe with whipped cream. “Sweet and creamy,” says Iris, and this is pretty much her highest compliment.

The New York Times recently had an article about kids gone wild in coffeehouses. There are few enough kids in our neighborhood that I’ve never noticed a problem at any of the coffeehouses we frequent, so I don’t really have an opinion on this vitally important issue. Once, though, we took Iris to a coffeehouse designed with kids in mind: My Coffee House, on Madison. My Coffee House has more toys than the average Toys “R” Us location. Apparently all the kids had been drinking triple lattes all morning, because even the newborns were on a rampage. We haven’t been back to My Coffee House.

Some other Capitol Hill coffeehouses that Iris and I recommend are Red Line (at Denny and Olive), Victrola (on 15th, where I’m typing *right now*), the big Starbucks (which Iris calls Coffeebucks) on Olive, and Cafe Dharwin (10th and Miller). Iris is particularly fond of Cafe Dharwin; it’s near her friend Charlie’s house, and I would drop her off to play with Charlie and his babysitter and then go work at Cafe Dharwin. When I left, Iris would say, “Dada go to Cafe Dharwin, typing on the baby computer.” One morning we were running late, so I asked Iris if she’d like to have breakfast at Cafe Dharwin. Would she ever. We had a lemon poppyseed muffin. “Did that baby just say ‘Cafe Dharwin’?” asked the barista.