There is a perpetually hungry 7 year old in my house. His favourite question is What can I eat? If I had a dollar for every time he uttered these words, I would be able to hire a personal chef.

His hobby is raiding the fridge and/or the snack cupboard. With each visit, he lowers his standards and therefore increases his options.  Much like a visit to Tinder in the dating world, I imagine.

What can I eat?  Yes he’s a growing boy. But he’s not, presumably, growing into a giant. Or a beanstalk. If you saw him eat, though, you would have your doubts.

I am also amused (in an eye-rolling kind of way, not ROFL – that’s ‘Rolling On the Floor Laughing’ for the non-texters amongst us) at this recurring situation:

He is happily creating a Lego masterpiece worthy of an architecture accolade/ watching educational and age appropriate television programs playing Score Hero on his iPad (let’s keep it real). The minute he sees me, even if I have just cleaned the house from top to bottom/ completed a 10km run cleared the dishes from lunch (still keeping it real) I hear those words:

What can I eat? It’s as if the sight of me triggers in him some kind of brain-stomach-brain message. I’ll assume it does not mean that I look like I’ve just eaten a heavy meal or that I must have easy and constant access to food, but instead understand that he sees me as his nurturer, provider of nutrition, maker of Milo, creator of school lunches. So I resist the urge to respond with Well, what can you make? and instead, make him his 42^nd snack of the day.

You know the 80s American TV show where the guy with the mullet gets out of tricky situations using only what he finds around him plus a Swiss Army Knife and duct tape? Yes, MacGyver! How did you…oh, oops, post title. Anyway, I try to apply that kind of skill to my meal preparation. Without the duct tape, of course.  Unless too many people under 5 feet start asking me when dinner will be ready.

The challenge is greater if a grocery shop is due. But the formula is tried and tested.

1. Survey the surroundings – fridge, pantry, kitchen counter, random items conveniently lying around
2. Plan the strategy (recipe)
3. Execute the MacGyver Meal under pressured conditions.

The Japanese have a word for allowing the chef to decide your menu: omakase, or ‘I’ll leave it up to you.’ Unbeknown to us all, this custom is practised every day in my kitchen. Being neither Japanese nor a real chef, the power of omakase may have unwittingly gone to my head. So If I am asked What are the choices? I very firmly say ‘Your choices are Take it or Leave it.’

But back to my 7 year old Very Hungry Beanstalk. A week before his birthday this year I asked him what he would like as his birthday meal. ‘I’ll make you anything you like,’ I said boldly, confident that he would not ask for stuffed zucchini flowers or anything that required a sous vide machine. I imagined having to Google ‘how to make sous vide chicken without a sous vide machine’ before I snapped myself out of that culinary horror. He looked at me with his big brown eyes and said:

Fish fingers.

‘Are you sure?’ I asked, a little disappointed that none of my Big Gun meals were his favourite, and also because my flamenco apron would not be required for fish finger ‘cooking’.

Yes.

Two days later I asked him again. “You know I said I would make you anything you wanted. How come you said ‘fish fingers’?’

He looked up from his Pokemon cards to say: Because it’s easy to make.

And then I knew. He is growing at an alarming rate. Into a kind and considerate human being. I had no choice but to make the best damn fish fingers the boy had ever tasted.

©2017 Seetha Dodd