I've spoken about playdate food before. I like to think of myself as the Anthony Bourdain of the topic. My mother prefers to spend afternoons in bed watching me play out of the corner of her eye, but the few times we have made it out the door, I came home disappointed with what passes for snacks these days. I've published a little dos & don'ts list or people who aim to please.
- Try to impress. Radishes stuffed with cashew butter, pickled snow peas, gazpacho, wild honey drizzled over fermented figs stuffed with sesame paste...none of these are acceptable playdate foods as you already know but your desire to seem wordly and/or the healthiest parent on the block has clouded your judgement. You aren't catering a celebrity wedding nor are you competing on Chopped.
- Serve dishes in inappropriate tableware. Sure I'll carry around a glass of lukewarm tea because that's what the kids in your Waldorf school do but trust that I will drop it, lacerate my toe and file suit against your estate.
- Become an activist. This is a playdate, not Jamie's Oliver's Food Revolution. This isn't the time to push local arugula on a tot. Can we just have a good time? You're ruining everything. Save the speech for YouTube s'il vous plait.
- Kill yourself. Spending three hours the night before making homemade cheddar and chive triscuits is just crazy. Calm down, Katherine Heigl. Go to 711 and pick up a box of something crunchy or if you must, drive by a health store for an acceptable alternative. Acceptable alternatives will NOT have visible seeds or things. <-------
- Keep it simple. No one is asking you to prepare a spread. We're toddlers and have sworn an oath to take no more than 5 bites of anything. Save the roasted boar for another day.
- Serve familiar foods. Apples! I've seen those before! Bananas? <-- Please remove the strings.
- NOT be surprised that if after all of these demands I eat nothing. At the end of the day, I'm there to play with your kid's toys and perhaps pee pee on a decorative pillow.