At the Garden Table: Salad and Beverages
At the Garden Table is a monthly note from Anne - grandmother, grower, and keeper of family recipes - about cooking, gardening, and connecting across generations.
I adore my grandson. At a young age, he was bright, articulate, and already in possession of a sly sense of humor. We invented increasingly silly ways to say Hi at a distance. Our best was a slow-motion, hands-flapping jumping-jack, which looks exactly as dignified as it sounds.
But he was a picky eater. Carrots had to be raw. Green beans crunchy. Fresh peas plucked off the vine and popped straight into his mouth, preferably by his own hand. The easiest way to feed him was to take him to the garden and let him graze, like a small, opinionated herbivore.
Tomatoes, on the other hand, were an absolute no unless they were transformed into sauce. If onions weren’t chopped into minute pieces, he’d pick them out and pile them on the side of his plate, like prosecutorial evidence.
The biggest scratch-my-head no-go involved lettuce. He liked his lettuce plain, with no dressing, but I wasn’t allowed to call it lettuce. It had to be called “salad.”
I couldn’t tell if this was a four-dimensional chess game move or him simply being stubborn, and I wasn’t sure it mattered. I played along, then upped the ante. I started to call all drinks—beverages. Milk was a beverage. So was water and juice. No exceptions.
I reasoned this would give him a leg up the first time he flew on an airplane. When the flight attendant announced, “Beverage Service,” he’d know what was coming. Also, the word ‘beverage’ was multi-syllabic, which I felt was good for any child’s vocabulary development.
He argued with me several times, then relented. I took that as a win. I still say beverage with him, and he doesn’t roll his eyes. He’s also discovered that he likes Caesar dressing. On his lettuce salad. Which feels like real progress.
— Anne
About Anne
Anne is the grandmother behind At the Garden Table. She helped build Midheaven Garden from the soil up and still works in the garden, along with her grandchildren and son, Joe. Around her table, children learn to harvest, cook, taste, and try again - because good food is meant to be shared from one generation to the next.