The Gourmet Peasant: Mom's Black Bean Burgers

The title Stay at home mom does not convey in entirety the job that it is presumes to represent. Before I actually was one, SAHM (for this purpose lets just call it mom) sounded like a one note job such as working on a factory line or answering phones. I had no idea just how complex being the caretaker of a fragile young thing could be. On a regular day, being a mom requires one to be a bodyguard, a personal assistant , an occupational therapist, and even a pillow. Yes, a pillow! On a bad day, it is essential that you be a nurse, a referee, and to be endowed with the infinite wisdom of the Dali Lama himself. The briskness with which you must change these hats, and the ability to match the appropriate role to each circumstance has left me more tired then chasing my very active 13 month old around the playground. The one role that I am surprised to say, brings out the most doubts in my ability, is the role of personal chef.

When my daughter first started eating solids, I was so excited to introduce her to all the flavors and textures that the world had to offer. I made her the most exciting purees; sweet potato with citrus, ginger and sage, pureed peas with mint, and roasted carrots with garlic and cumin. She literally ate it up. She was such a complicit little foodie that I had no idea what was just around the corner. Of course people warned me; They told me how their baby had been a good eater, once, before toddlerhood left them surviving solely on PBandJ and plain pasta. It was hard to imagine my pickled herring eating little girl turning her nose up to anything. Then one day it happened, the tongue trust. It's heartbreaking seeing your child spitting out food you worked so hard to cook, but it is something I would get used too. Most green vegetables were a no-go. Broccoli was abhorred. She'd happily eat something one day, then turn her nose up to it the next. Then, one day, she refused to be fed from a spoon and purees were a thing of the past.

Being my daughter's personal chef, and her my critic, has been a true learning experience, and a humbling one at that. Every time I step into the kitchen to make her lunch, or dinner, or breakfast, I have no idea what is going to happen, and how much of it will end up on the floor. It is like my very own cooking challenge only, there are no TV cameras, and it is not a reality show. Sometimes, she wolfs the food down, and others she is much happier smushing it between her fingers or smearing it across her high chair tray. What I have learned, is to not take it so personally, to not give up (I finally got her to eat broccoli hidden under a cheesy quinoa casserole), that ketchup is not evil, and that, in the end, I'd rather not be my daughter's warden. In every other role that I play for my daughter, I do my best to step back and let her discover the world in what way works for her. Do I let her play with matches, of course not! When she falls, I do my best to catch her, and when she throws her lunch on the freshly moped floor, I take a deep breath and with that wisdom I was talking about, I free her from her high chair so she can play. She will of course, be hungry later. Especially when I've made these oh so delicious, toddler friendly, and vegetable laden black bean burgers.