Cooking Up Memories with My Boy

One of the things my son and I genuinely enjoy is trying something new. I’ll admit, I’m usually the one more excited about exploring a different way to enjoy a meal. He inherited the very picky palate I had as a child.

Getting my boy to eat vegetables, fruits, and all the foods I craved during pregnancy is still a battle. As much as I find joy in preparing meals as part of my love language, he rarely eats any of it. And yet, what he will eat, he refuses to try from anyone else—not another person, not a restaurant. I take that as a quiet compliment.

I trust personal evolution. I believe and am hopeful his palate will expand the way mine did as I grew older. He already has one up on me—I didn’t eat homemade hamburgers or chicken wings until I was a teenager. I used to sneak and throw away food I didn’t find appealing. I couldn’t get past the craters that heat and grease created in the patties, or the cooked veins exposed when I pulled meat from the bone. For me, it was all about visual appeal. My son, I’m not so sure. He loves hamburgers, chicken, steak, and pizza cooked any way, on any day. So yes—all the savory dishes I love and make that are not the above named, he won’t touch.

Even though his ever‑evolving nature keeps him from trying some of the best foods out there, I’ve learned that tuning in to the dishes and flavors he does enjoy creates space for special moments, memories, and opportunities to introduce something new. This week, it was hibachi. I marinated his favorites and mine, and we cooked our own version at home.

We cooked, we ate, and we bonded.

Hibachi Night