Mom

The last time Mom cooked for us she tried to hide kale in the salad. She fooled no one.

Her health food tricks started at a young age for all of us. As the oldest, I can say I’ve experienced more of these “well-intended” ruses than anyone else. But even before I could read, I knew 365 Everyday Value Chocolate Sandwich Cremes were definitely not Oreos.

“They’re just as good,” she’d say—a favorite plea of hers, along with, “You won’t even notice a difference.” At first, I was impressed by how easily she lied to us, but now I see she actually believes that. She sincerely thinks off-brand Cheerios and organic chips are just as good. As for when her taste buds died, I can’t say.

If nothing else, growing up with a mother who tries to sneak fish oil into your bowl of cereal without you noticing makes you more alert. When our whole family sits around the table at a meal, it’s as if we’re all playing a game of iSpy. Forks comb through rice to make sure there’s no quinoa hiding in it, and knives scrape off any foreign-looking greens. It’s a comedy of cynicism and curiosity.

But I’ll let you in on a secret. The way you can tell if Mom has put anything in the food that doesn’t belong is not by looking at the food, but at her. She surreptitiously surveys our faces for a reaction while at the same time avoiding eye contact. And that’s when you know.

“What did you do, Mom?”

“It’s good for you!” Again, she doesn’t lie. But as brows furrow and noses wrinkle with the uncertainty of what we’ve consumed, she smiles like an ambivalent art thief caught by security guards. “Eat and be grateful for what you have,” she says.

And we do because we are—the taste of superfoods subsiding behind the shared joy of eating with family and the understanding that the contents on the table matter less than the people around it.

And the gleam in Mom’s eyes betrays the truth: our presence at every meal makes up for the absence of kale on our plates.