Cooking and Baking With Your Kids

I derive such absolute pleasure from seeing the look on my daughter's face when I tell her she can help me cook or bake.  Her interest in food is quite impressive.
She loves to sit and watch cooking shows with me, especially if they involve contests and judging.  She has a very keen opinion on who should win and why.  I must say, quite often, I am with her on her choice and reasoning.
My little chef-in-training is all of 4 3/4 years old.  Yes, 4 3/4.  She has very strong likes and dislikes; some based on textural preference, some on flavor.  While she used to love spicy food as a baby, she changed once she started day care.  Suddenly she preferred chicken nuggets over turkey chili.  I guess I knew there was a chance of that happening, but I thought it would happen much later.  The good news is she is still often open to trying new foods, but only on her own terms.  I hope and pray her taste matures again and she decides it's okay to try chicken feet or tripe.  She is one of the only children I know who likes Korean blood sausage and boudin noir.  I was pleasantly shocked that she tried either and loved both.
Cooking with my sweet girl is such a blast.  I get to teach her about measurements and ratios in a fun way - in a way that she can grasp at this tender age.  She loves to season meatballs and chicken and sauces and she really gets a hoot when I let her form the meatballs.  I can't possibly get away with making a cake or cookie batter on my own.  She always HAS to stir the batter, mix in the chips or raisins or nuts, flatten the cookies on the tray, sprinkle on sugar or sprinkles.

I have the best little helper ever.  When she was just a tiny little two year old she actually pressed the crust into tart pans for Thanksgiving pecan pies.  I was testing a raw crust recipe made with dates, pecans, flax seeds and coconut oil.  It was such a lovely crust and it had a really nice texture. I watched, adoringly, as her tiny little pudgy hands worked so deftly at pressing that crust so carefully into the pan.  I absolutely melted inside.

This was definitely my girl.  No question.  She would look at me and grin after every few pats and I saw pure joy in her eyes. I see that same joy every time I ask her if she wants to help me in the kitchen.
I think that such a deep bond is formed when you bring your kids into the kitchen to cook with you.  The kitchen is a warm place, a room filled with good memories for many.  I think that my happiest childhood experiences involved cooking and the kitchen.  It seemed to be the only place I could earn some form of approval from my parents.  I baked some delicious devil's food cakes, cheesecakes and cookies, and my father always loved it when I chopped the salad because the veggies were always evenly chopped into a tiny dice.  My knife skills were actually pretty good for a teenager.  When I was about 12 years old, it was my job every Tuesday night to make spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.  It became a family favorite.  It actually was also one of my baby's favorites and she had it for dinner on her first birthday.  Notice, saucy mouth open and waiting for more!

I hope that my daughter remembers her time with me in the kitchen and looks back on it fondly.  I truly wish for her to cultivate her love of food, of cooking, of judging, and - quite possibly - of writing about it all.