“What would it take for you to join a farm?” asked my editor. I raised my eyebrow as if the answer wasn’t obvious.
Who wouldn’t want to drop everything and become a farmer? Spending the day working outdoors, in the dirt, under the sun, and out of an anemic cubicle? Long hours? No problem. Fresh air? Yes, please. Growing food with your own two hands? Sign me up. (more…)
Two dozen elementary-school kids watched intently as Linton Hopkins, an award-winning chef with the white coat and expensive knives to prove it, lit a burner under a frying pan, drizzled in olive oil and honey, sliced an orange and squeezed it, tasted the mixture and sprinkled in some salt, and then tossed in double-handfuls of raw broccoli leaves—leaves that had been growing 10 feet away 15 minutes ago, until the kids fanned out across the school garden and picked them.
Hopkins tipped the warm salad into a giant metal bowl, beckoned the kids off their benches, and showed them the result. “Salad’s done,” he said. “Who wants a taste?” ...
Julian Scheer’s classic picture book, Rain Makes Applesauce, is a rollicking nonsense poem, with the title as refrain: “The stars are made of lemon juice,/and rain makes applesauce./I wear my shoes inside out,/and rain makes applesauce.”
“Oh, you’re just talking silly talk,” an unseen critic periodically puts in. It’s a delightful children’s read, but these days it’s a little worrisome, too. The fact is that many American kids today—if not quite convinced that rain makes applesauce—come pretty close. (more…)
When my son took his preschool application intelligence test (yes, seriously), the test administrator said, “He cooks with you, so he will likely score higher than other children.”
Turns out, intelligence tests incorporate examples of everyday objects that many kids no longer see—whisks, measuring cups, loose buttons, sewing needles, spools of thread. Necessary items for tasks done by hand.