Neon Ice Cream, "Dinner Eggs" + Saltfish At The Kiddie Caribbean Carnival
Lesley Enston's Cub Street Diet
Hi friends,
This month we’re thrilled to feature the Cub Street Diet of the wonderful Brooklyn-based food writer and recipe developer, Lesley Enston! Lesley spent the summer preparing for the publication of her cookbook Belly Full: a gorgeous (and delicious) exploration of Caribbean cuisine that comes out TODAY. (Check out her recipes for corn soup and cucumber chow in Bon Appétit and one for perfect macaroni pie in The New York Times.)
For our purposes, though, Lesley is the mom to 6-year-old Desalin who loved plums last week and, this week, no longer cares for them. Sound familiar? Read on for Lesley’s late-summer Cub Street Diet—and really, buy her book. No cookbook library is complete without it.
Greta + Fanny
There is a part of me that would like to preface this entry with a disclaimer: my daughter normally eats very well. She’ll try almost anything, and enjoys a lot of things other kids might not (sautéed cabbage, for instance, is high on the list of foods that will solicit a positive reaction when she hears what’s for dinner). We cook a huge variety of foods in this house, from a myriad of cultural backgrounds—most especially from her Haitian and Trinidadian heritage—and she not only enjoys all kinds of different spices and seasonings, but can identify many of them in cooked dishes. This is not at all to say she eats absolutely everything, or that it’s easy, but overall I feel pretty lucky.
However, this is about reality, and the fact is this is catching us at a weird time. It is the week just before school starts, and the lawlessness of summer has taken a toll. Any semblance of order or proper nutrition has completely left the building. I am the mother to a nearly 6-year-old, who is old enough to have all her own opinions but not old enough to make her own meals. I have, essentially, three jobs, all of which are leading up to major projects in September—including the launch of my book (which was written mostly after my child went to sleep and whose recipes she tried over and over while I developed them. And, yes, she complained). In addition, Desalin has been home most of the summer while I try to work said jobs, as I couldn’t afford eight weeks of camp in NYC. My attempts at finding things for her to entertain herself with have largely failed, and much of her time while I’m working has been spent either watching shows, telling me she’s bored, or testing exactly where it is that your face (or hands or feet or toy) will appear out of a blurred zoom background while I’m on-camera. Long story short, the shit has hit the fan and we are in survival mode. Also, as summer has gone on her appetite has waned dramatically, despite the fact that she appears to have grown three inches. I have no time to contemplate this. She isn’t eating candy for breakfast (but maybe I’d let her?) so I’ll take it as a win.
Tuesday 8/27
Somehow we have devolved into a horrible routine where she falls asleep at 11pm, I attempt to get work done, then have some revenge “me time” where I watch bad Netflix shows until it’s too late then finally go to bed. This results in her waking up absurdly late. Though I try to wake up before her to do things like yoga, or have my coffee without any “guess what-s” or “watch this-es”, I usually just take advantage and sleep in a bit myself. Today, I do wake up first, and make her the same thing I make myself: whole grain toast with honey, and some plain yogurt, hers spiked with a touch of vanilla extract and maple syrup. I give her some chunks of watermelon instead of a plum (like I’m having) because she is suddenly on an anti-plum kick. This is super awesome because I just got a two pound bag of them because she liked them last week. She finally wakes up and announces “I’m not hungry.” I abandon the kitchen to take a phone call, and when I come back see that the toast looks like a mouse tried a bite and decided against it.
I go into back-to-back meetings and she entertains herself by pulling every toy she owns out before deciding what to play with. Our apartment is small, and this means trying to get a glass of water between meetings is like navigating a minefield. I remember at some point she never ate breakfast and give her some Annie’s cheese crackers and a cup of (homemade) watermelon juice. That has nutrients, right? The juice gets drunk, the crackers seem…fewer in number? Who knows.
Lunch is a mess. I am trying to make it for her while in a zoom so I’m grasping at straws. She also claims to still not be hungry. I give her some multigrain crackers and cheese and a handful of grapes. At least this gets eaten.
I finally get off the computer, and we go meet her friend at the playground. The inevitable “Can I get a treat?” is asked. In normal life, a day of eating (or not eating) this way would result in a resounding “NO,” but summer’s almost over so YOLO. I let her pick something out at the bodega and it’s like, neon? It claims to be cotton candy ice cream. It looks highly toxic, but I have no energy to fight so I let her have it and she declares it the best day ever. She knows something is up because as we cross the street to the park she looks up at me and says “You would normally not ever, ever, EVER let me get something like that…like not in a million years not even if a dinosaur crossed the street right now…” She scrutinizes my face, “Right?” She wants to be sure that we haven’t entered a new era of awesomeness. I assure her that she is 100% correct, not in a million years, not even if a unicorn landed in front of us right now.
We hit the playground, and the ice cream, which she deemed excellent, was quickly passed off to me. She says I can eat some, which is good because I do, and I have to admit…it’s actually pretty good! I thought it was going to have the highly artificial taste of food coloring but it tastes mostly like decent vanilla ice cream and I relax into knowing that I am not totally killing my child today.
The hang goes long. Her friend has been away all summer, so when the kids ask for five more minutes both moms agree, and 5 quickly turns into another 45, then an hour…by the time we leave it’s getting dark and I realize there is no chance in hell that I am cooking. Across the street is a restaurant I’ve always wondered about, The Fly, known for their natural wines and roast chickens. Something for everyone! We usually try to get to restaurants early in the evening, when kids are still ok and you’re surrounded by families. However tonight it’s late and we definitely missed that window. We are surrounded by people on dates and single friends hanging out. I can feel the trepidation when we sit down and I want to assure everyone around us that “My kid is cool.” I then send her mental messages to just BE COOL (she is). I don’t have my usual entertain-your-kid-in-public kit (paper, markers, activity books, etc.) but she did bring a card game called “Taco, Cat, Goat, Cheese, Pizza” so we play that while we wait. Dinner is half a roast chicken, green beans and fries. The green beans are rejected because they’re too spicy and over cooked (she is an adventurous eater but her heat tolerance is slowly building and anything in the mushy category is an offense to her senses), but she is a big fan of the chicken and gives the fries a 7 out of 10 rating. She has a ginger lime soda which tastes like fresh ginger juice, lime juice and club soda. It’s not at all sweet but she loves it and insists on having it in a wine glass, so half of Bed Stuy probably thinks I let my child drink natural wine.
Wednesday 8/28
Sadly, this is another day like the last. Back-to-back meetings, trying to fit in actual work in between. I at least had the foresight to make overnight oats, but was requested to change it up from our usual (oats, tahini, dark chocolate, vanilla). I make these with cashew butter, cacao, maple syrup, oat milk and almond extract. She likes it and eats it all, along with some raspberries. There is no snack. Lunch? Was there lunch? More grapes and a Stonyfield yogurt pack. I think it has pears, mango and spinach in it so at least there’s that. Maybe we call this a hybrid. Slunch? Lnack?
We end up going to the pool near us after work to meet another friend. No one tells you having children means your social life becomes carting them around for their social life. It closes at 6:45, then she wants to play on the playground, and it’s another night when I realize we’re in trouble, having prepped nothing. I have leftovers from a Haitian recipe I’ve been testing for Bon Appétit, but on test three she is both over it, and is dubious because the first test lacked the “flair” (her word) that her dad’s has and she has assured me she won’t eat any more of it. I pick her up a kid’s cheese quesadilla from our corner Mexican place, which comes with tortilla chips, and make her a salad. She will currently only eat salad if it’s one of my two go-to dressings. One is a balsamic vinaigrette by Rick Martinez and the other, which we have today, is from my friend Lukas Volger, and is made with apple cider vinegar, lots of mustard and brown sugar. I have the leftover soup (I make her taste a bit and she admits I found the flair) and the salad.
Thursday 8/29
Today is extra nuts because I have to go into the office and she’s in dad’s care. I leave her toast with honey, yogurt again, and a plum. I feel like if I just leave it there maybe I can trick her into forgetting she decided she doesn’t like them anymore. Does she eat it? Who knows.
I suspect lunch never happens, as it usually doesn’t if I’m not there. I get home around 5 and they’re still out. I assume I don’t have much time, so I set to work making one of her favorite quick pastas: shallots, garlic, tomatoes, canned tuna, and lots of basil. At 7pm I get a call from dad telling me that they’re going to get fries because “she never really ate today.” I guess this answers my question about lunch.
She comes home and is excited that I cooked, and immediately sits to eat a plate of pasta and the sautéed kale (with balsamic vinegar) I made with it. I feel better because this is an actual meal!
Friday 8/30
I take the day off from all work because dammit Summer Vacation is Almost Over and I feel like we hardly did anything fun. I make pancakes, an act normally reserved for the weekend. I always make extra to freeze so that mid-week I have something easy that is sometimes exciting enough to convince my child to get out of bed. I am sure they’re based on an actual recipe (or a mash up of many) I saw some years ago, but now it’s muscle memory. What goes in varies, but there’s usually a hodgepodge of whatever flours I have, and today it’s spelt, almond and rye. The dairy usually varies too, and today there is buttermilk. What kind of person buys buttermilk when they barely have enough brain space to finish a text message? Apparently I do. I add the firmest blueberries I can find to her plate (see earlier mushy note). This is a regular scene: me, standing next to the sink, squeezing all the berries in the colander one by one until I find one that makes the cut. Whenever she identifies one she feels is still squishy she gives me a look that’s simultaneously accusatory and disappointed, as if she wonders who hired this lady anyway?
Today we’re going to Governor’s Island. Normally I would just get us lunch there (and what great options they have!) but in an attempt to make me feel like I’m still in control of this food situation I pack us lunches. Cut up carrots and cucumbers for both of us. I have leftover pasta and I make her what she calls “Mama’s Famous Sandwich Delight,” which is bread, mayo, ham or turkey, cheese, and shredded lettuce. She hated sandwiches (she would deconstruct them) until, out of desperation on an impromptu long playground hang, I got her one from the bodega. Not knowing what to get a sandwich hater I got her my old classic, honey turkey and cheese on a roll. Yes, with everything (except tomatoes because I am not a fool). It changed her life. And now I have to buy mayonnaise. I hate mayonnaise.
It’s a day on Governor’s Island so she also gets lemonade and a huge ice cream that looks like it’s wearing a hat.
We get home late so I make scrambled eggs with toast, and her favorite cauliflower with garlic and Trinidadian curry powder. Usually I roast them, but I need this food on the table within twenty minutes or we will both melt down (also Hi, Summer!) so I pan fry it. She also loves what she calls my “dinner eggs” which differ from my “breakfast eggs” in that they have garlic powder in them. Whatever works!
Saturday 8/31
Today is the kiddie Caribbean Carnival in Brooklyn. I have made overnight oats again, this time inspired by golden milk (turmeric, cinnamon, nutmeg, black pepper with half coconut milk and half oat milk). She takes a bite and makes a face. I admit the turmeric is strong. She says “I mean I like it, but I don’t like it.” I put one more small glug of maple syrup in and she’s sold. She has that and a plum. Yes, a plum. She eats half and admits they are good ones.
For lunch we obviously have to have food at the carnival. I get a big plate for us to share with saltfish (salted cod that’s stewed with onions, garlic, tomato, and Trinidadian seasoning peppers), spinach rice, steamed veggies and rasta pasta. It’s a mix of Trinidadian and Jamaican food. She looks at it and tries to tell me she doesn’t want it but I know she’ll love it. She takes a bite of the rice and saltfish and shouts “YUMMY!” She then announces it’s the best saltfish she’s ever had. I make this dish all the time, so I try not to be offended and just take it as a challenge. (Fast forward three days later, I make saltfish for dinner and she says “this is so good”, so take that, carnival lady.) But seriously, it’s really good stuff and we go back to tell her so.
Dinner is a mishmash of leftovers from the week because we are both so tired and all we care about is watching a movie. We make popcorn, and she takes her job as oiler and salter seriously. As we settle into the movie, I count down how many days remain until school starts…
