The Unfortunate Fungus Incident


One of my favorite foodie books (an ever-growing category if ever there was) is Hungry Monkey: A Food-loving Father’s Quest to Raise an Adventurous Eater by Matthew Amster-Burton.  My own 4-month-old monkey is still happily gorging himself day and multiple times each night on breast milk, and is growing steadily rounder as a result.  However, as a godmother to two just-turned-four-year-olds, I found myself nodding along with many of the book’s tales.

One moment that remains caught between the teeth of my memory is when the author describes how he spent hours lovingly seasoning and reducing a pot of split-peas and ham in order to disguise some leftovers  for yet another post-holiday meal.  After he finally perfects the rich green broth, he confidently places it on the table for his family’s presumed enjoyment.  His daughter inspects the bowl, smiles sweetly, and says something like, “But daddy, you know that I don’t like soup.”  That’s right.  Not peas, not ham, not green food.  No, she has determined that she cannot stomach an entire category of cuisine, an entire course.  Let me just say — I feel you, man.

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