Vegan. Keto. Paleo. The diets at my dinner table make meal planning a nightmare

Vegan(ˈvēgən). Keto(kēdō). Paleo(pēlēō). The diets at my dinner(ˈdinər) table make meal(mēl) planning(ˈplaniNG) a nightmare(ˈnītˌme(ə)r)

By Judy(ˈjo͞odē) Pollard(ˈpälərd) Smith

Whatever happened to family dinners? Those who gather around my own table have forced me into the position of trying to plan around what I call the New Non-Eating.

My default position about big meals has forever been a hearty(ˈhärdē) casserole(ˈkasəˌrōl) of scalloped(ˈskal-,ˈskäləp) potatoes(pəˈtādō). How could that be wrong? Slice(slīs) ‘em in thin(THin) wedges(wej), add(ad) the salt(sôlt), a grind(grīnd) or six of black pepper(ˈpepər), a good chunk(CHəNGk) of butter(ˈbədər). (Yes. Butter.) Pour(pôr) on the milk, top it off with a bit of grated(grāt) cheddar(ˈCHedər) and toss(täs,tôs) it in the oven(ˈəvən) at 350 F for however long it takes. Smells good. Tastes(tāst) even better. And then there’s meatloaf(ˈmēt ˌlōf) to go with the potatoes: minced(mins) beef(bēf), egg and a bit of oatmeal(ˈōtˌmēl) to bind it, a few diced(dīs) tomatoes(təˈmādō), a bit of barbecue(ˈbärbəˌkyo͞o) sauce(sôs) to liven it up, chopped(CHäp) onions(ˈənyən), diced green peppers. Those two dishes(diSH) made an easy base for a hearty(ˈhärdē) meal. Add a side of corn(kôrn) niblets(ˈniblit), a bit of salad(ˈsaləd) and Bob’s your Uncle, as they say.

So, what was wrong with that? I ask. Quite(kwīt) a bit, I’m told. And it pains me that even as I complain about the new diets around my table, I know there are too many people in my own city who would cherish(ˈCHeriSH) the opportunity to sit down to a wholesome home-cooked meal. It’s a heartbreaking thought.

Two offspring are vegans, which means no milk, plus no cheese(CHēz), and that means no scalloped potatoes. …

The other four adults are on the keto diet. So that means yes to meat but no to the pasta(ˈpastə,ˈpästə), which would make a great alternative(ôlˈtərnədiv) to the scalloped potatoes for the vegans. …

Our little lambs(lam), as I call our grandchildren, like to mix(miks) things up a bit. The six-year-old lives on air and eats nothing. That I can cook. …

When our other two little people arrive, the five-year-old eats pretty(ˈpridē) much everything, the works, which is happy-making for grandmothers everywhere. …

And then there is me, the host, who fills this dinner(ˈdinər) table. I eat every single item that is put in front of me, just as I was taught(tôt), which is bad in its own particular way.

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