Tears of Meat Envy

We made it home. There was, natch, a bit of travelling vomit, but only from one child, and it all made it into a sick bag, so nothing too revoltingly remarkable. The culprit was our six  - !! – year old. The one whose birthday it was two days before, but who wasn’t told about it until a day later (keep up...).  We did our usual birthday tradition of sneaking into the pre-dawn bedroom, and rousing the pretending-to-sleep child with a hearty rendition of Happy Birthday, complete with candles,  a Swedish flag, presents, cards, and something not suitable for breakfast consumption.

Actually I’d argue that Orios are not suitable for consumption by the Boy at any stage, because they’re clearly laced with something. The evil counterpart of pixie-dust.  Demon dust perhaps?  Whatever, instead of making the Boy fly and smile, he turns into a horror.  And so his birthday morning came to pass with tantrums and sulks and tears.  But!  Then we remembered we were in Bali, and dragged him down to the (poo-strewn) beach, attached him to a board, and threw him at the mercy of the waves.  It was nothing short of miraculous.  (Boogie boarding – the antidote to long-life preservative-ridden cookies.) And then came the piece-de-birthday-resistance.

When he was born I vowed that my children would grow up not eating meat, respecting animals, and understanding all the reasons for not eating them (namely, because we don’t have to.) However, I made the great liberal gesture that at age 6 they could choose for themselves. The reasoning being that by then I would have made such a great impression on my offspring with my wonderful parenting – and persuasive - skills that they would, of course, choose to respect all of God’s baby animals.

So here’s the Boy at his birthday (“birthday”) lunch. 

See the look of glee?  It’s directly correlated to the tastiness (in his mind) of the meatball en route to his mouth. (Unfortunately I didn’t think to take a photo of the Girl at the same time, sitting there, as my friend J put it, with “tears of meat envy running down her face”.  So much for respecting God’s baby animals.)

On that note, here’s my new favourite thing to eat, which is vegetarian (if not vegan) friendly.  It’s a rip off of our favourite brunchy dish at a beach-club we sometimes go to here.  (If that sounds smug – yes, I know it does, esp if you’re being pelted by sleet in Europe somewhere  – take some solace from that fact that (a) a glass of yoghurt there costs £8, and (b) if you raise your eyes slightly above your swimming children, you’re confronted with the sight of several dozen filthy spewing oil tankers trundling by.  Nothing quite says Singapore like the sight of kids and puppies splashing about beside the world’s busiest shipping lanes. )

Yoghurt Layery Thing

This is so ridiculously easy that it doesn’t actually merit being called a recipe. It’s more of an assembly.  Also, the restaurant’s original uses fresh raspberries and strawberries, while I improvised – at no loss to taste - with jam.  There are three fundamental tricks to making it a thing of fabulousness:

• Serve it in a glass
• Heat up the jam first (in a microwave in the glass, so no mess! Or, if you’re making more than one, in a jug.)
• Crumble a digestive biscuit on top.  (Now is not the time to be beating yourself up about giving the kids biscuits for breakfast.  Just trust me on this.)

You need – per person:

• A glass
• A large tablespoon of jam
• A few dollops of natural yoghurt
• A couple of tablespoons of soft fruit (I used bananas, berries; mangoes, stone fruits are good too)
• One digestive biscuit
• Some squirty honey
• Anything else you think might go well – nuts, seeds. A dollop of shipping fuel.

Dollop the jam in the bottom of the glass and stick it in the microwave for about 15 seconds.

Put a couple of spoons of yoghurt on top, the fruit, more yoghurt, biscuit, then honey.  As much or as little of everything, as you prefer. 

If you’re making it in advance (like I do, because as we know I am a domestic and maternal goddess) add the biscuit and honey just before eating.

Serve to your carnivorous offspring, ignoring requests for added meatballs.