She fed us on a regular basis and tried hard to introduce new and healthy foods.
I was a trial for her.
She often lamented that I wouldn't try anything new.
I feel bad for her now, now that I am grown and see the same sort of distress in my husband when he puts together a tasty new dish that I don't love.
And now that we're in retirement, he has to come up with the meals every other day so sometimes he's stressed.
He searches Pinterest and pays attention to new food ideas in the paper and at friends' homes.
He is willing to try out the InstaPot and invest in strange new spices for the cupboard.
I start to worry when I smell lots of garlic and onion. I won't let him experiment with saffron or such.
He only has a tiny bit of wiggle room in his work.
And some dishes succeed.
I've learned to like several Chinese and Asian dishes that include broccoli and onions and Golden Mushroom soup and stir-fry vegetables like water chestnuts and those little things that look like baby corn.
Plus, if I'm home, I can have a piece of toast after dinner if I'm still hungry.
But when I was a child, I often just didn't eat whatever strange thing we were having.
I preferred to starve much to my mother's disay.
I understand her situation more now that I've raised six children and am trying to find things for various grandchildren to eat.
I have one who is always worried about what we're having and another who needs to see how the dish is made so nothing gets sneaked in.
I totally understand when one of them chooses to hide her uneaten food or dump her plate before anyone can inspect what's left.
(I had all kinds of tricks for the lunch ladies in elementary school so I could get out of the lunchroom without eating my canned peas or stewed tomatoes.)
I also understand my mother's lament as she tried to come up with something for dinner.
Her options were indeed few.
My favorite was when she'd cry: "Do we have to eat EVERY day?"
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