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| Bacon, Spinach (the "L"), and Cherry Tomato Risotto |
As a kid, spinach was not my thing. It was that slimy stuff Popeye ate. I didn't care if he was strong. If I had to eat spinach, I didn't want to be strong. I wanted nothing that slid whole cloth out of any can.
My own first child adored spinach. By then, we'd reached the American culinary stage of gorgeous gooey-cheesy baked spinach casseroles with crispy crumbled crackers on top. Enabled by grocery store freezers filled with vegetables year-round, we chopped, mixed, added soup or cheese, and threw stuff into ovens to our heart's content. We were eating vegetables, weren't we? And we liked anything with cheese or sour cream or dried onion soup mix.
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