The 6-year-old — we often call him an “old soul” because so many of his views on life seem to be those of a wise old man instead of the dinosaur-loving, prank-playing little rake he is (as when he joked around with Uncle Brendan at the pool) — believes kids menus ought to be banned outright.
Possibly echoing what many a dog has thought while begging for human food at his owner’s knee, Jack says the food on the kids menu simply doesn’t pass muster. So he prefers to order from the adult menu.
Kate and I got a hint of this when we took the lad out for his birthday dinner a couple of months back. As I’ve recounted previously, he not only ordered the adult steak with all the trimmings but also asked the waitress to bring him a gigantic gooey chocolate dessert and polished off most of that, too.
The thought recurred, though, the other night, when we were out celebrating his mom’s and my birthdays.
The budding connoisseur, it seems, has such a developed palate that he is selective when he’s in a mood for fish. Melissa asked the waitress what fish was featured in the fish and chips menu item. When the answer was cod, she allowed as how that probably wouldn’t be up to snuff for somebody who used to find tilapia tasty but recently pronounced it blasé.
So she instructed the waitress to deliver an order of the mahi to her son, although she stipulated that it need not be a full adult portion.
All eyes turned to Jack as he tasted the grilled fish (it looked like a full adult portion, BTW), awaiting his verdict with baited breath. (I know that should be bated, but hey, this is a fish story.)
“How is it?” someone asked breathlessly, baitedly.
He pondered the answer before pronouncing: “It’s good, but it needs a pinch of salt.”
OMG, who does he think he is? Julia’s child? James Beard? A Top Chef candidate?
There I was, eating one of my faves, a BLT on rye toast, happy as a clam, and he’s quibbling over a few grains of salt. Obviously, I don’t know jack when it comes to food.
However, I must acknowledge Jack’s practical, thrifty side. His 8-year-old brother, Vincent, had eaten only half of his cheeseburger, so Jack polished that off as well. That’s my kind of kid: cleaning the plate, his or not.
Speaking of Top Chef and Jack’s culinary acumen reminds me of one of my most embarrassing moments as a parent. Back when my oldest, Annie, was 7 or 8, we went to a mid-range family restaurant named Mr. Steak or something like that.
I never had eaten a steak there, despite the eatery’s name, because I was raised a poor drycleaner’s son who was steered toward burgers instead of the more expensive cuts of the steer. So, as per usual, I ordered a burger, perhaps splurging for a slice of cheese.
Came Annie’s turn, and she ordered, without flinching — a steak!
I was stunned, and my childhood deprivation took over as I literally foamed at the mouth that she would DARE order such an extravagant item (I think it was all of $5.95). I caused such a scene that Annie was bawling and had trouble enjoying the steak.
Only later did I realize how innocent her choice had been: She was used to going out to dinner with her grandparents, and Ambrose and Jeanette routinely had let her order whatever she wanted, which usually was steak.
And believe you mean, Ambrose was a packinghouse worker who knew his steaks, and ordered the best. I bet she’d never had one as lame as the piece of beef I raised the stink over.
The experience scarred both of us for life, as I’m still embarrassed about the day I acted like a bull in a china closet in a family restaurant, and my kids occasionally remind me about what a horse’s ass I was in throwing that tantrum.
So why does the Top Chef aspect remind me of that day? Well, Annie’s a film editor these days, and Bravo’s “Top Chef” and “Top Chef Masters” are two of the shows she’s worked on.
Twixt her and Jack, I’m surrounded by Top Chefs.
As for Jack, I think should inform him, as he searches for the perfect dish that doesn’t need even a pinch of salt, that even the late, great Julia Child muffed a few recipes, as Meryl Streep channeled last year in “Julie & Julia.”
Julia Child had quite a sense of humor, too:
And with that, I’ll sign off with a Bon Appetit!
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