gastrokid

The Gastrokid Story So Far

Back in 2006 Hugh Garvey and Matthew Yeomans launched Gastrokid a food blog dedicated to healthy, tasty meals for all the family. In 2009 that blog became a book, The Gastrokid Cookbook, published by Wiley and now in its second printing.

Along with the blog we have a dedicated Facebook group and a Twitter feed. Take a moment to learn more about the book and search our recipe archive for the finest in family friendly and slightly foodie recipes.

Gastrokid column on Williams-Sonoma

The latest Gastrokid column for Williams-Sonoma kids is now live.

We're playing with kiddie cocktails for Spring.

Check it out.

- Matthew

A Gastrokid Book and Update

Just in case you've been wondering why blogging life seems to have been a little slack here at Gastrokid....well, there's lots of interesting stuff going on that now, finally, we can share with you.

First, we have a book deal with Wiley Publishing to write the Gastrokid cookbook. Hugh and I are very excited....and very busy trying to juggle work, home, the Gastrokid blog and hitting our book deadline!

Then there's a fun new Gastrokid column that I am writing for the new Williams-Sonoma kids website. Check it out and let us know what you think.

Finally, a note about the Gastrokid social network. Yes, as we often do, we dived into the Gastrokid community with a lot of enthusiasm but not a lot of extra time to make it a success.

So for all of you who have joined the community so far and been a little underwhelmed we apologize. Here's how we intend to make amends.

Starting next week, we're going to put our community at the front and centre of Gastrokid.com by making the network our home page. You'll still be able to read all our blog posts on that main page but hopefully, by highlighting the contributions of you the members of the Gastrokid community, we'll attract new Gastroparents to the site and start building a truly collaborative site where we can all trade recipes, tips on picky eaters and ideas for great Gastrokid-friendly restaurants.

So get involved and tell your friends about Gastrokid. After 18 months, Hugh and I are enjoying Gastrokid more than ever. And we want you to enjoy it as much as we do.

- Matthew

Gastrokid: Putting the Gas in Gastronomy

So, about the name Gastrokid. Do we need to explain it? Does any word with “gas” in it make you titter? Okay, admittedly it does have an, ahem, air of flatulence about it to the juvenile mindset. Let us not forget that in certain cultures, a bit of gastric action is considered the highest compliment at the table (or floor, or carpet). But that’s neither here nor there, for the tradtion we’re coming from is a bit more Brittanic.

See, gastrokid also happens to be a riff on the term gastropub, the trend that has swept the UK resto scene (Gastropubs are homey little pubs that are as serious about serving amazing food as pouring a good pint. Among the more famous gastropubs stateside: the Spotted Pig in NY and in L.A. at Ford’s Filling Station).

And gastropub is (obvious to anyone with even a primitive grasp of latin roots [or is it greek?]) a riff on the term gastronomy, which has something to do with the elevated study of cuisine, or something like that.

And let’s not squeamishly avoid the fact that gastronomy (that gassy root again!) is an elaborate, joyful, wonderfully human elaboration on the simple fact of sustainance and all that goes with that (gastrointestinal and otherwise).

So budding Gastrokids:

You are what you eat.

And you're likely to be reminded of it soon afterwards....

- Hugh

London Restaurants Serve Gastrokids

Just when you think that New York has cornered the market on gastro-cuisine for kids, along comes London to up the ante.

And in the form of Tom Aikens, no less - Michelin-starred chef celebre of London's fab crowd.

The London Evening Standard has a story about Aiken's plans to open a restaurant that considers kids a good addition to the ambience rather than a reason to ask for the check.

Says the story

"Think back to when you were eight and eating at the family table, secure and happy - that's the epitome of comfort food," says Aikens. "My aim is to take that moment and translate it into a restaurant. It will be called Tom's Kitchen.

Details are scarce on the new venture but the Standard does supply a handy list of other London kid-friendly restaurants.

- Parties at the Blue Kangaroo

Here they are with links.

Inn on the Park - Signature Dish: the Poor Knights of Windsor (that's eggy bread says the Standard)

Blue Kangaroo - Less a family eating experience than a place to eat in peace while your kids work up an appetite in the playroom downstairs.

Babes 'n Burgers we like'd the sound of this joint right away....and then we had the concept properly explained to us. Oh well, apparently the kids love it as well.

- Matthew

Knife Skills for Baby

The kids were in the kitchen and giving me a heck of a time while I was trying to prep some summer squash to sautee up (along with some fresh thyme, some garlic, salt and pepper; I overbought at the market and thought I could cook it off to use it to sauce pasta later in the week, maybe put on some bruschetta.).

I looked at the pile of squash. I looked at the kids. I got an idea: I got a couple of kiddie stools, a couple of knives (a plastic one for the lad, a table knife for his sister, and put them to work.

Check out sis's knife skills. I swear I did not doctor this photo or set it up. She, just by watching, imitated my technique. Her brother, by watching his big sister, adopted hers.

What they produced in the end was not quite a brunoise, heck, not even a rough chop. But small enough to put in your mouth. I cooked it all up and it tasted just as good as if a culinary student had done the prep. Correction: even better.

Palm Pilot

Interior: Kitchen-Morning
I'm dutifully cutting up a toaster waffle, into vertical strips, as requested by my daughter for at least a full two weeks. It's the last waffle in the box.

Inquisitive Daughter: Can you make me a cool shape?

I’m groggy. Uncaffeinated. The convenience food has suddenly become inconvenient.

I look out the window. It being California there are just a few options. Inspired by the scenery, here's what I made.

Who Has Time to Measure?

Plus, a recipe for steak to feed a discerning family of carnivores

Honestly. When it comes to cooking, what parent has time to measure? Your arrive home at, what, 5:53 if you’re lucky? More likely something like 6:38. Or later. Everyone has their own touch down time. No matter what they are, those are tough numbers with the kids waiting.

Then: cook dinner. It could be a microwaved something or other at High for 2 minutes.

Or, it could be a recipe that lists 12 ingredients. 5 of which you have. Or 5 ingredients. 2 of which you have. One of them being water.

And then it’s on to 1/4s, 1/2s, cups, Ts, tablespoons.

I’ve never liked math and never will. I don’t like measuring (okay weekend bakers: I know, you have to measure. Granted. Meanwhile, we’ve got a week of meals to cook).

In a newspaper profile of a chef I read a while back (I’m blanking on who it was), the chef said something that resonated with this exhuasted father. The reporter asked him how much of some ingredient he’d put in his dish. The chef answered: “A tablespoon? A half tablespoon? I have no idea. I don’t live my life that way and I certainly don’t cook that way.” I instantly thought: that guy must be a dad.

Any parent knows that even the most important measures (age, IQ, grades) mere suggestions or innacurate relfections of what actuall is, and that life doesn’t pour itself into these measures with precision or predictability. Sure, an exact recipe can be a refuge. But try telling that to someone who walks in the door to see hungry kids in need of food that makes them happy. Helps them grow. Then, try feeding them AND the parents too. In one meal. That’s the dream, isn’t it? It’s mine.

Wouldn't you rather go from a list of suggestions, going with your eyes, your hand, your gut, learning how to cook intuitively? You've freed yourself from your hourly consultations of the baby manual. Now it's time to do the same with the cookbook. Try it with this recipe. No precise measurements required.

A No Measure Meal to Feed a Family of Four (or a happy loving couple for two days; and a single person for three days)
I know from experience that people of the following ages LOVE this meal (and these are the last numbers you’ll see in this recipe): 2, 5, 35, 36.

Granted, this is much much more verbose than your usual recipe, but it gets at the ambition to be free from measures, gets at the meaning behind the moves. I beg your indulgence for the next three and half precious minutes.

A big juicy steak, big enough to feed your family (porterhouse, rib eye, new york all sound pretty good. you can also go flatiron, or a couple of skirts). Salt and pepper the heck out of it. Grill it. Or sear it over high heat in an olive oiled pan. Or broil it. Whatever your method, do it until it’s crusty on the outside and medium rare on the outside. Achieve this by not a roaring, blasting heat. No, what you want is a confident, steady, moderate but forcefull heat. Enough heat to crust it up, but not scorch it. Medium rare for the kids you ask? Yep. For the kids too. Don’t let them become those weird people who like their steak medium. They can handle it. Whatever the cut, slice it into... uh... slices.

Some juicy tomatoes, sliced up, or diced, if that’s how you’re kids like ‘em (for adults only I’d just slice ‘em).

A huge pile of arugula. Rinsed and dried. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Dress with olive oil and lemon juice. Toss (why? because you want them all coated with a little flavor to egg them along, right?)

a few pieces crusty white bread (rustic, not factory; white, not wheat, not sour dough, which are both too strong and incompatable with the other great flavors), grilled off or toasted in the toaster or broiler. You want them a little tan. A little crustier. A little more intense in flavor. But not so crunchy it's hard for the kiddies to eat.

Some parmesan (the Italian stuff, aka parmigianno reggiano), shaved. The parents love this stuff. The kids love this stuff.

Now that you’ve done all that, assemble it thus:

On a big platter, lay down the arugula, then the tomatoes on top, then the sliced beef. Serve with the bread.

Daters and childless: you’ve got the time to think of how to make it pretty. Figure it out.

Mini Me Mixology

Not every child who puffed on a candy cigarette grew up to be a smoker. Not every boy who donned his sister’s tutu turned into a cross dresser. Nor will every kid who drinks a virgin cocktail promptly at 5:30 on weeknights while listening to some downtempo and relaxing music grow up to be an alcoholic.

Okay, while kiddie cocktail hour is not a daily occurrence in my household, on occasion my daughter has asked for a cocktail while Mom and Dad have indulged in a gin and tonic, a prosecco and campari, or something or other with that helpful post-work, pre-bath time kick.

On occassion I’ve poured her a plastic Ikea lowball full of ice and water with a twist of lemon and that’s made her feel part of the moment. That little zip of lemon oil on chilled water in an open cup was a revelation to her. The smile that crossed her face was broader than any I’ve ever seen following a slice of cake or pizza. The tonic and soda have been a little too tickly for her palate, so it’s just water and that’s just as it should be (and a hell of a lot better for her than a treacly “juice”; how can anyone think that’s a good idea?). That’s fine enough for now and I’m not about to go any further encouraging a little lounge lizard, though I have considered other virgin cocktails of a more elaborate mixological bent. Among them:

Bloody Mary Poppins
Tomato juice, worchestershire sauce, and a celery stick garnish on the rocks. Could be a way to get them to eat vegetables.

Weegroni
Grenadine on ice with an orange twist. A negroni without the gin, the camapari, or the sweet vermouth. Not very nutritious, but there is that orange and it’s trace roughage and vitamin C.

Top Ten Toddler Salty Snacks (continued)

to pick up where we left off...

6. freshly-fried tortilla chips and quacamole at the nearest Mexican dive
7. trader joe's peanut butter filled pretzels (though, in this hyper-allergic era, they're rapidly reaching hazmat status)
8. marcona almonds (tamari almonds a close, cheaper second)
9. shaved parmesan cheese (an expensive habit with all four members of the family noshing)
10. The inevitable bowl of Ruffles potato chips at the neighborhood potluck at which my kids and seven other stand eating until all that remains is just a fine saline, oil, and processed potato sand.