Picky eaters just piss me off. We had several of them at our Thanksgiving table this year. Nephew Al turned his nose at my pepper and mushroom tart, the squash tart, and the spinach-artichoke casserole. His sister, Niece R, turned her nose at the salad with pears and gorgonzola; she doesn’t like pears. WTF? Their mother, my low-class-white-trash-ex-SIL, feeds them Lean Cuisine and Stouffer’s meals everyday. She doesn’t cook at all — she has no redeeming qualities. Nephew B, whose parents are adventurous eaters like WineGuy and me, eats basically meat and vegetables. No stuffing, no mashed potatoes, no peanut soup. His older sister, Niece SB, eats everything. Again, how do kids turn out like that? I’ll never know.
As the boys and I were eating dinner tonight, Wizard mentioned that MIL did not eat the roast tenderloin of beef I made for the family last Tuesday night. Excuse me? How do you refuse an entire roast of filet mignon? Apparently, Nephew A turned his nose at that, too. Totally pissed me off.
WineGuy and I try mightily to instruct our boys to try everything once. If they don’t like something, they don’t have to eat it, but I’m not making them anything else. Our boys are great eaters: Japanese, Vietnamese, Chinese, Indian, Korean, Burmese, you name it. I don’t expect everyone else’s children to eat so adventurously, but I do expect children and guests in my home to show some respect for the meal I’ve made. Which brings me to my last complaint: WineGuy’s brother, NiceGuy, lives over in Fort Lauderdale. He divorced ex-SIL a few years ago and recently married a new wife, Meesekite (bastardized form of the Yiddish slur “meiskeit,” meaning “ugly one”). She is no prize, but at least she cooks decent meals and keeps a clean home. She and her younger daughter, Stepniece S, drove in Thursday afternoon for turkey dinner. They refused over half of what was served them, turned their nose at my food, and then left before dessert was even served. When we went around the table, each telling what s/he was thankful for, Stepniece praised and praised her mother’s contribution to the meal, corn soufflé, which Wizard described as “yellow cat-puke on a plate”. No thanks for being included in our family meal, yet again. No, the child just sat there with her sunglasses on her head, until I pointedly asked her whether she was planning on staying a while. Yech, Meeskite and her spawn. Maybe I should have called them “Raised By Wolves” (vs. Dances With Wolves).
OK, I’ll quit my whining. My mother made it home safely today. Yay!