By Kerri Havnen Gordon
The Living Experiment
“Cereal: it’s not just for dinner anymore,” my husband good-naturedly announced one morning as he ate a blend of Crispix, Shredded Wheat and Raisin Bran. Mild panic set in as I realized I had abused the cereal option as a last resort for those dinners when I’ve cooked no dinner.
It all started long before we had kids. I would come home from work famished and tired. My husband and I lacked both the stamina and creativity to cook, so we began having an occasional bowl of cereal for dinner. After this got boring, we mixed the cereals and added a few bananas or raspberries.
To assuage guilt we referred to these dinners of cereal, milk and fruit as “cold pasta, light cream sauce, with a fruit garnish.” With this deceptive description, we could almost believe that we were not being lazy at all and that cereal was a logical, healthy choice for dinner. I read the side of the boxes, and each little bowl is chock-full of nutrients. Why should it only be for breakfast?
Once I was home full time with the kids, I was often frustrated that I still had insufficient time to prepare a proper evening meal. I hardly felt shame when, every once in a while at dinner time, I reached into the pantry for the familiar boxes of “cold pasta.”
Now I have always loved making breakfast. We hardly ever eat cereal then. Even on school days, my family can count on me to make pancakes, eggs, oatmeal, Belgian waffles, Cream of Wheat, French toast, biscuits and even bacon on occasion.
Unfortunately, my enthusiasm for making breakfast doesn’t extend to dinner. It’s not that I am completely bereft of cooking talent; it is just that I don’t want my whole life to be about meal preparation. These days I prepare a traditional dinner about four nights a week; OK, maybe three and this feels sufficient. A few nights a week end up being either pizza or leftovers. Once or twice a month, it’s cereal.
On those days, I figure that as long as we all sit down together, it doesn’t really matter what we eat. For variety I offer a lovely little assortment of cereal boxes, and I rarely hear complaints. The only time my family squawks is on those nights about once a month when I declare a “shift for yourself” night. Each person makes whatever sounds good - toasted French bread and peanut butter, ramen noodles, and yes, cereal. They don’t complain because of the limited menu; they complain because I am not serving them.
Making balanced dinners every night would involve dozens more hours weekly finding recipes, shopping and making dinner. Like every other mom I know, I am ridiculously busy all day long, especially during the hours traditionally reserved for meal preparation. It’s hard to pull a June Cleaver in the kitchen when I’m shuffling kids to practices and alternately hounding and helping them with their homework.
Then one morning my husband made the fateful comment that sent me searching for new dinner recipes I’d actually have time to prepare. I headed to the grocery store with a list and good intentions, but with a mind of its own my cart swerved into the cereal aisle before I abruptly stopped.
We do not need cereal, I admonished myself. What we needed were a few vegetables. It was time to return cereal to its proper place at the breakfast table. No more cold pasta/light cream sauce/fruit garnish dinners - at least until the next time I run out of time.
Gordon’s column is published the second week of the month. Send comments and suggestions to: Livingexperiment@pacbell.net.
