Cheesesticks (or what to make for those who don’t eat)

The thing about cheesesticks is, (if you are still freaking about what to make) you can put them out with the raw vegetables for those who refuse to eat anything else, and lo and behold, they’re eating cheesesticks. Not that you have to compulsively feed people who won’t eat, but the truth is, if they do eat something more than celery, they’ll be in a better mood, and the more good moods you have at a table, the easier it gets. Get your non eaters eating.

Sift 1 cup of flour with 1 teaspoon of baking powder into a bowl. Add butter, and rub the butter into the flour with your fingertips, tossing the mixture as you go. Add 1/2 cup of grated cheese and 1/2 cup of milk. Knead just to get it all together into a dough, on a floured board. Roll out with a pin to about 1/4 inch. Slice into 7 inch by 3/4 inch regtanlges. Brush with melted butter. Bake 12 to 15 minutes at 350 degrees until golden brown.

Here’s a little something to entertain you before you start to cook; I wrote it a long time ago.

At three o’clock I start to cook for my family’s dinner. Nobody eats the same thing in this house, so instead of making one meal for dinner, I make four. Four completely different meals. I’d say this has been going on since, well, since the beginning really. I never liked to eat what my husband Edmund liked to eat. Edmund likes to eat big things. A big steak with an entire box of macaroni and cheese, no vegetables and a great big piece of pie for dessert. That would be his favorite. I would get sick if I ate that. So, for myself, I make something light, like a potato with navy beans on the side and a leaf of spinach. Then the kids came along and started out eating nothing but milk and then after that, very little things, like tiny little hamburgets and vienna sausages intead of hotdogs and pizza that I made in muffin tins. It was ridiculous, but what could I do? That was the way they ate. Different things, but at the same time. Because my mother always told me, “Freida, the way to keep a family together is to eat together.” And so we do. For fifteen minutes. I’ve timed it. It’s never taken us longer than fifteen minutes. Of course we don’t do anything but eat; eat and chew. I don’t know why. I guess because we have nothing to talk about. We’re all eating different things. You can’t say “please pass the potatoes,” because if you’re eating potatoes, you’re the only one eating potatoes. You can’t say my steak’s great, how’s yours?” No one else is eating steak.
For the first few years, it made me crazy. I wanted someone to say something. Anything. All those hours alone in the kitchen cooking one meal after the other. Waiting for my family to come home and join me at the table only to hear silence? But now, now it doesn’t bother me.
Now I feel the quiet helps me digest.

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