There was a time when I thought the only person in the world who ate spinach was Popeye. He’d scoff it down in one mouthful, head back and muscles bulging.
What a hero.
He may have been good to Olive and remains an icon of strength and loyalty, but there was no way that I cared enough about muscle tone to eat spinach myself.
And I was that kid. I had morning tea on a Doo Bee placemat and felt confused every time Jim Iliffe would tell me to go to bed at the end of his 4pm show.
Even with limited television viewing, I followed it all with great attention and incredible gullibility. (Hence the confusion over going to bed. I didn’t want to, but on the other hand, what Uncle Jim said Uncle Jim said.)
Even if I had a yen for bulging muscles, I wouldn’t have begged Mum for some spinach. Spinach, like zucchini and so many other ‘exotic’ vegetables simply weren’t in my world. The fanciest vegetable to grace my childhood plate was choko and, if spinach was anything like that, well, I was happy to for it to stay with Popeye.
Anyway, spinach for Popeye came from a can, so its association as a vegetable was further removed. The only stuff we had from cans was baked beans – and that was food punishment enough.
But my three-year-old twin grand-daughters think differently. They’ve never even seen Popeye or know about his superior strength. I’m pretty sure that spinach for them has no connotations of anything. They just like it.
They like it so much that it has become their treat food.
Where I would beg my mother (unsuccessfully) for just another teeny tiny scoop of ice cream, they beg for spinach.
And this has got to the point of obsession. My daughter is not averse to giving them their treat food of choice but is also a little exhausted by its constant preparation.
She has even quietly confided that life would be simpler if they could just beg for a tiny cube of ice cream as the crescendo of their demands peak during that busy dinner/bath/bed twilight zone.
Instead, she promises them palak paneer for dinner on Friday -not that they really know the difference between Friday and any other day of the week. In the meantime, she tells them to stop asking and eat their capsicum.
