First of all, I beg everyone's pardon for generalizing according to my own experiences; it's the hazard of being a columnist. Now that the preemptive apology is out of the way, do me a favor and think back to your childhood. If it was anything like mine, one of the things you remember is eating dinner in the evenings with your family. I know, some people were busy in the evenings; some people didn't eat as a family - for all I know some people didn't have dinner at all but instead ate a series of snacks throughout the day. I don't know your life. However, I would be willing to bet that for a lot of you out there, dinner was one of the few times when, at least occasionally, your family all sat down together and ate a real meal.
To clarify, in my definition a real meal consists of multiple food groups. There should be vegetables involved, and, barring some moral objection, probably meat. A real meal is eaten off of a plate, with silverware that is not disposable. Ideally, it is eaten at the table. For me, this was the kind of meal my mom prepared almost every day. She would come home from a long day at work, pop the broccoli steamer or some other mysterious cooking utensil in a pot, and make us our supper. Sometimes my dad would do the grilling, and to be fair he makes what is quite possibly the best steak in the civilized world, but most of the time feeding the family was left up to my mom.
Of course now I know how much hard work goes into making a healthy and - usually - delicious meal every night. I also know just how wonderful a home-cooked meal, especially one with fresh picked vegetables - yes we have a farm, what of it? - can taste. But that wasn't always the case.
I am ashamed to say it, but I didn't always appreciate mom's dinners. When you're a kid, the last thing you want is a balanced meal complete with salad and hardly any sugar. Back when we were kids, my brother and I thought the best days were when mom got home late and we got to have chicken nuggets and french fries. The worst thing of all is that even now I'm not sure we would always say differently.
Mom, in true adult fashion, makes a good, balanced, reasonably healthy meal pretty much every night. Even if she's the only one home she will make a healthy salad for herself. Theoretically, I have the option to do the same. When I was living in a dorm and only had a microwave and a tiny baby fridge I had a pretty good excuse for not creating my own healthy dinner options. No longer. Now I live in a house with a stove, an oven and a full-grown refrigerator. There is no excuse for the way I eat.
This is going to be mildly embarrassing to admit, but I eat kind of like a 5-year-old.
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