Picky Dish

The Picky Dish, or is it Pickie, perhaps in this internet era - Pick-'e'.

I am not really sure of its origin or derivation but it has been an integral and characteristic feature of lunchtime and tea time meals in our family for decades.

It seems to be a term just peculiar to the Thomson household, specifically the former Hessle, East Yorkshire branch now resident in the leafy shade of the huge horse chestnut trees of Pearson Park, Hull.

In my own childhood and formative years a Picky Dish would be frowned upon.

In those days you ate what you were given and if you didn't like what was served up then you went hungry. Many a time the refusal to eat would result in a reminder from an attendant grown-up that there were famine stricken children in the world who would welcome a filling meal. I used to imagine the Postal Services in many an African nation being swamped with gravy infused packages from Western children taking the suggestion from their seniors to the extreme.

This discipline of not squandering food came from previous generations where austerity and frugality were the key ingredients in any domestic budget allocation for food.

Of course, another influencing factor in the past was the limited actual choice for consumers. If it wasn't available in the shops then you would have to grow it yourself in a very functional back garden with fruit bushes and vegetable plot or down on a Municipal allotment. There was a well defined seasonality for produce especially where of British origin-winter root crops, spring lamb, summer salad and autumn fruits.

This is so much in contrast to the supermarket shelves today where imported and factory-scale operations ensure a continuous flow and on an all year round basis.

In such an economic paradise the picky dish is in its element.

So what is it?

Well, when our three children were little, although the picky dish ethos persists even now they are all over 20 years old, they all wanted something different at mealtimes. I know, I know we should, as parents have been stronger and more insistent on a standard fare. You would think that with only 5 years span from eldest to youngest there would be some common dietary likes and dislikes. You would think!

Under the pressures exerted on two working parents including a new business start up a bout of wrestling with infants over the lunch and tea table was best avoided.

The Picky Dish could be purchased in its individual constituents easily enough on the journey back from respective places of employment.

The shopping list would typically comprise, from the fresh produce aisles- carrots for grating, granny smith apples for cubing, seedless grapes to inadvertently roll under the kitchen units , celery for slicing, whole pickled beetroot to check that the children were regular (ahem), water cress if not growing out of cotton wool on a bedroom window cill, sweet potato and shredded lettuce.

In the meat and related goods section common acquisitions included mackerel fillets (with or without a dressing), fish sticks or whatever abomination they actually are, pork pies of size to be readily sub-divided, chicken pieces or roast portions, cold cuts of corned beef, wafer thin ham or haslet.

Baked items were next with sesame topped buns, breadcakes or exotic ciabatta and mediterranean pitta followed by cream crackers, bread sticks and mini-cheddars.

Crisps were a good filler with just about every flavour you could imagine but my ultimate favourite, Marmite Twiglets was a standing order on any shopping list.

If towards the end of a long month and still a few days to pay-day there tended to be a less flamboyant offering on the children's plates. Baked Spuds with a variety of fillings could be dressed so as to give the appearance of above average combined income for the household.

I did confess to our eldest daughter just today that if the bank balance was a bit stretched then a Picky Dish could be as easily provided by a creative clearance of the dodgy stuff at back of the fridge,  a measured guess about what was in a very old pantry shelf tin can lacking a label and an enforced defrost of those long forgotten, half opened sachets that had become firmly embedded in a glacial like conglomeration in the freezer compartment.

I think that I got away with that confession and that the fond recollections of the Picky Dish are still strong amongst the Thomson Offspring.