Growing up, I was a picky eater. There were a lot of tastes and textures I just didn’t enjoy. Which is why I often was in trouble for playing with my food. I’m not really sure why they call it playing with your food, are you? I mean, it’s not like you stand up the little noodles in the goulash and pretend they’re people in a parade or fighting in a battle. (Okay, maybe there was that one time…)
But mostly I’d just take a little bit of food and swirl it about on my plate in an attempt to make it look like I’d actually taken a bite. Never seemed to fool my mother, however, and I’d get the, “Don’t play with your food!” comment at least once a week.
I have to admit I enjoy being at the top of the food chain. Meat has always been where it’s at for me. Meat and potatoes; good, hearty farm food! No sissy dishes for here; the only thing I eat that’s French are my fries. Take me out to a fine dinner and you’ll still see me pushing around the noodles in an effort find the beef.
Here at Carpenter Creek, however, things are different. I was visiting a new blog where there was a photo of a young girl laying in the straw with a cow, and the comment by the blog author was how she thought that’s how a beef or dairy cow ought to live before their time was up. And I couldn’t agree more! Which is why I’m always telling Darling to “Go play with your food!”, and she has always happily obliged!
Jeu avec votre nourriture!
(Play with your food!)