Last Sunday, after two weeks of Singin' in the Rain training at the Holly Theater, Senia Mae announced, "My friend Sadie is a vegetarian. I think we should be, too." I knew this was coming. She is my daughter and watched me stand up for the things I am passionate about, so of course she is going to do the same. In health class last year the school showed the movie, Diet For a New America, which showcases the food industry's mistreatment of animals used for human consumption. When I was in chiropractic school we watched that same film. Learning the truth about factory farming and the inhumane treatment of living creatures was appalling to me and the following day I vowed to not eat meat, which I did continue for the next twelve years until I became iron deficient in pregnancy. How could I expect my daughter to react differently? I am going to support her and help in any way I can. The problem? She's not a huge fan of vegetables. "Senia Mae," I said. "You can't be a vegetarian and not eat vegetables." She's okay with cucumbers and broccoli sometimes, but spinach is a hard pass. Asparagus, no way, and don't even come near her with any tofu or vegetarian meat replacements. "Mama, those things are just disgusting. They don't taste like hamburger," she said. I realize this and try to explain that meatless alternatives are not going to taste the same because they are not the same. I try to explain the importance of good nutrition and protein and iron for her developing twelve year old body. I'm pretty sure her ears hear me saying : Rah rah rah rah rah. She is going to continue to consume dairy products and seafood, which I'm thankful for. In all honesty, I feel like I was a more creative cook when I was vegetarian. I ate a more complete diet, but in general was healthier. I think having the convenience of having meat available in fast food or as a quick fix has made me more lazy in the kitchen. So, I'm kind of excited about this new adventure. 

I consider myself a food purist. When I eat grape leaves I want them to be authentic Greek, when I eat shrimp and grits I want it to be Southern home cooking not served up at a Mexican restaurant, and when I eat pizza I expect it to be Italian. For years I fussed over traditional pizzerias around the metro Boston area becoming "Greek" pizza places. The crust is thicker and a little more greasy, the sauce has a sweet flavor to it, and the cheese gives me hives (at least it did when I was in the 7th grade.) I love Greek food but I want my pizza to be Italian.

As parents, we all want our children to remember us in some special way. It may be that super ability to make the hurt spot feel better with just a little kiss or being the protector from the scary monsters during the darkest of nights. I show my love in the kitchen and would love my daughter to remember the food I made for her as a labor of love and devotion, one that provides happiness and comfort, like being wrapped up in a warm fuzzy blanket. More often than I would like to admit, my labors of love feel unappreciated because Senia Mae is a picky eater. Sometimes I make things especially for her, using ingredients I know she likes, and still my vittles can go untouched. I try not to take it personally, she is only seven.