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Chef Tyler Kord discusses what happens when he tries to cook for his child



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			<span class= Illustration by Ross MacDonald

I can pretty much take any ingredient that you can throw at me, and when I pick it up from the ground, because I'm not good at it in, to catch things, I can do something delicious.

I do not have to search online for the ingredients for a Chicken Potpie, a Chicken Cordon Bleu or even a Chicken Cordon Bleu Potpie. If you had challenged me to a soufflé, I would have to look at a recipe, but I would not necessarily follow the letter and it would still be a pretty good soufflé.

I'm a good cook who could transform me a bit – as if it were a tomato souffle, I might add a dash of elderflower syrup to surprise you in a sweet and comfortable way that might make you say to my daughter "Wow, Barbara, you're so lucky to have a father like Tyler cook for you."

"No," said 22-month-old Barbara.

And here is my challenge: to feed my child while trying not to feed my ego. Barbara is a toddler who can only say a word, but loves a wide variety of foods, from blueberries to cheeses to anything salty or crispy or just put in my mouth. She loves it especially when her mother gives her cooked noodles nothing. What could be more delicious than dried noodles cooked in water, cooled to room temperature and served with a glass of water?

I am sure that they are even tastier when their father, who has spent the last 20 years there His life, dedicated to the pursuit of a relatively high culinary level, stands ready and watches as his daughter does Handfuls of shells are shoved into his mouth as he watches Coco for the 64th time.

I'm trying I take her beloved pasta and I add cheese and milk and some flaxseed flour that thickens the sauce to a velvety consistency, turns cheese and organic milk into chic Velveeta, and she'll take a bite What I'm going to put up FaceTime on my phone to show my wife what an incredible Chefdad I am. Barbara will take advantage of my lack of attention and throw the rest of the pasta on the floor.

"Bon Appétit named my restaurant one of the best new restaurants in 2009, and I pull cat hair from the noodle and consider still feeding I'm yelling at a toddler who says I'm a terrible cook, but also, that my exclamations are weird.

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Recently I boiled yours Broccoli – and yes, I understand that kids do not like broccoli, and that's absolutely my fault, but I gently caramelized it with a touch of olive oil to give it the magical roasted broccoli flavor, and then carefully poached in garlic – chicken broth who is emulsified with more butter than my wife, would like to feed with our daughter, and Barbara would not even taste it.

My broccoli was mentioned in The New York Times and she pointed to a box of wholegrain bunny crackers, because I think she can not read The New York time s .

My friends ask if she likes broccoli, because it's somehow my business, and they're kidding, but I'm claiming that something else caught my attention.

I cooked Jasmine rice in a combination of milk and chicken broth With a few small pieces of carrot and some butter, and after it was cooked, I stirred a very mild, torn mozzarella. It was a bunch of stuff she liked, fortified with some protein and fiber, but in a way that even a child could love, and of course she tried to knock it off the table, shouting, "You've never been nominated for a James Beard Award for cooking! "And I quietly told my little girl that I at least got a scriptwriting and put her to bed and drank vodka while eating cheesy rice.

And honestly, it's fine. I'm just going to take the road, as my wife and parents do, and hold on to the frustration so that years later I can throw them back into the faces of the people I love most.

Actually, I'm really looking forward to teaching my daughter how to cook. At the moment, though, I have to be patient – a truth I've found that links cook well and educate well.

One day I imagine we're going to make a simple soup, one of the first things I've learned, and chop vegetables together, sweat gently in butter, add some broth and simmer. I let her spice up the soup and make sure she tastes the way she wants. We set the table and sit like a family and I will try not to spit the soup all over the floor.


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