Every morning for pretty much the last ten years, I’ve made a smoothie for breakfast. I first started making them because they seemed like a relatively painless way to get my daily allowance of fruit — fruit which, for whatever reason, I never seemed to get around to eating. But then I started to notice (imagine?) something: they made me feel good — or, at least, better than a big bagel or a plate of bacon and eggs. Jenny gradually became addicted, too, and the smoothie became our morning routine. The first thing she would do, upon wandering into the kitchen in her slippers on Saturday morning, was walk over to the blender on the counter and pour herself a big glass. Even when Phoebe was newly born, and Jenny was in the throes of maternity leave, the tradition marched on. Before leaving for work in the morning, I’d put a smoothie in the refrigerator, so she could have it when she woke up. As soon as Phoebe was old enough to try one, we got her hooked, too. Both our kids love smoothies now. They call them “fruit shakes” — as in, “Daddy! WHERE’S MY FRUIT SHAKE???” — and they have one almost every morning (along with their pancakes… or french toast… or challah with jam… or whatever other starchfest is is on the menu that day). They, unlike me, prefer theirs in a tiny cup. No, not the blue one, the pink one. With a bendy straw in it. The pink straw. Pink! No, light pink, not dark! Yes, daddy. Good.
Once you get into smoothie habit, you’ll want to keep it going, too. They also make good after school snacks.
Click here for the recipe.
From Dinner a Love Story