Power Dining for Preschoolers : ...

If you’re the sort of person who likes to foster lively debate at dinner parties, forget about Mario Cuomo, trade restrictions or Operation Rescue’s upcoming spring assault. They’re for rhetorical pantywaists. To guarantee conversational fireworks, just ask your guests: What should children eat, and how should parents go about getting them to eat it?

At about the age of 6 months, give or take, an infant opens that bird-like mouth in the hope that something other than milk will be put into it. He’s a perfectly blank little slate, digestively speaking--a tabulita rasa-- and mom and dad are in the powerful position (or so they think) of being able to define his gustatory vocabulary.

Does he become a receptacle for all the things his parents eat, the good, the bad and the ugly? Or does he represent a cosmic second chance, an opportunity for his parents to do penance for decades of Snickers and TV dinners by making sure that he only eats healthfully?

And by the way: Given the vast numbers of working couples, who’s supposed to find the time to administer the food policy, whatever it is?

As baby boomers have their babies, cookbook authors are lining up for the chance to show these ambitious parents the best path. They fall, for the most part, into two camps: the aggressors, the ones who believe that little Johnny or Jane can be hoodwinked into eating the spinach that they’d throw on the floor if it was served up plain, and the acceptors, the ones who take whim as a given and try to work around it.

In the first category, the hands-down winner is Jenifer Lang, author of “Jenifer Lang Cooks for Kids,” whose credentials as a mother (a gloriously healthy and happy little boy named Simon, pictured in his mother’s arms, is on the cover of her book) are small potatoes compared to her resume as a cook. Lang is the author of “Tastings,” editor of “Larousse Gastronomique” and managing director of New York’s Cafe des Artistes, which is run by her husband, George Lang.

She is not a nutritional hard-liner--her desserts have sugar in them--but she is determined that Simon consume as balanced a diet as her kitchen wizardry will allow. Lang will not give in to Simon’s food moods. If, on a given morning, he isn’t interested in breakfast, she whips up a shake from milk, milk ice cubes, banana, peanut butter and honey for him to guzzle on his way to school. She makes muffin-sized meals for him because he likes the individual portion--and recommends them to parents who are having trouble getting salmon, scallops or sweet potatoes off the plate and into the mouth.

It’s easy to visualize Lang in her kitchen, surrounded by a bevy of best intentions, coming up with yet another special meal for her son. Working parents, however, will probably have to stick to her freezable microwave recipes, save their culinary efforts for the weekend and/or learn to love the same food they’re serving their children.

Speaking of which: If you’re tempted to become a Langian, do so at the outset. Our 2-year-old will eat almost anything--but she already has expectations that get in the way. Lang’s sweet-potato-custard muffins, for instance, were quite delicious--I ended up eating them all--but they didn’t look like muffins. Sarah stared dubiously at the hockey-puck-shaped offering.

“No my muffin,” she said. “No like it.”

Given that response, I couldn’t bring myself to try the “jelly building blocks”--chilled cubes that include anything from carrots and carrot juice to orange juice and avocado chunks. It’s not that they didn’t sound smart. It’s that you have to introduce them early enough to get your child to believe that a cold, wiggly orange blob qualifies as real food.

And while the new crop of laissez-faire experts would hardly endorse the approach used by Lang’s friend, who gets his child to finish dinner by telling a story in installments--which only begin after the child has eaten a bit more--Lang’s anecdotal asides are so sincere that it’s hard to fault her. Perhaps her only sin is being overzealous; a pardonable offense, since she manages to pull it off without ever seeming to hover or nag.

While Lang finds the notion of structure stifling, the authors of “A Healthy Head Start”--dietitian Mary Hess, home economist Anne Hunt and recipe developer Barbara Stone--believe that a little predictability helps the toddler eater. Although they give a nod to the demands of the workplace and the need for a flexible schedule, they endorse the dying art of the family dinner, including a Wednesday-means-pasta schedule, and suggest that one of the best ways to breed a happy eater is to sit down and eat with him.

Unfortunately, this is like telling working people to take six months off when their child is born. Some of us can’t help staggering in from the office at 7 p.m.

They also recommend that most daunting of domestic aids, the weekly menu plan, which is great if you’re compulsively organized. But what if you’re the sort who wakes up on Tuesday with a craving for fish, only to realize that you’re preordained to eat Reina’s Grandma’s pretty neat sloppy Joes?

Whatever the schedule, the authors do offer one piece of sage advice, sort of the Acceptor’s Credo: Parents can only determine what gets served and how it’s prepared. Children decide how much, and whether, they’re going to eat.

Stone is responsible for the recipes, the nutritional content of which has been blessed by her co-authors. There are a dozen sections--the largest being “sweets and snacks,” because that’s the category where it’s easiest to commit a food felony. These recipes, for what Stone calls “justifiable sweets,” provide some less-sugary alternatives to traditional dishes, but the other sections offer rather standard fare.

A reader could find more and better recipes, however, in “Jane Brody’s Good Food Book,” the New York Times’ columnist’s far more comprehensive--and often more imaginative--collection of healthful recipes. And Stone fails to include basic recipes for ingredients she requires, such as chicken or beef stock, which leaves the tyro cook at a loss. Nobody who’s prepared to cook for a 6-month-old should have to consult a second cookbook to get started.

“Kitchen Fun for Kids,” by Michael Jacobson and Laura Hill, is brought to you by the Center for Science in the Public Interest, whose point of view is quite clear: Children learn too much about food from television, which is why they grown up craving high-salt, high-fat fast food at McDonald’s; sugar-laden breakfast cereals; candy and the twin villains of nitrates and fat, dressed up as luncheon meats. Jacobson and Hill are interventionists, aggressive enough to make Lang look like a wallflower. This book is an attempt to win back the hearts of 7- to 12-year-olds before those hearts become as clogged as the cartoon arteries that are among the book’s illustrations.

It’s a snappy, clever little book, designed to involve the preteen cook in the process--in the clear hope that along the way, pride of ownership will lead a young chef to eat a hummus sandwich instead of a Big Mac. The only problem is that it’s a slender book (only nine recipes for dinner entrees), with a lot of recipes that are essentially healthful renditions of junk-food favorites. The motive is obvious; perhaps the best way to get a kid to switch to a better diet is to make it resemble his old one. But will homemade chicken nuggets replace the devil fast-food equivalent, or merely complement it?

And what will mom and dad eat while junior is popping chicken bits? Child-care experts--Great Britain’s Penelope Leach, for instance, the Barbara Wodehouse of the nursery--suggest that what toddlers like to do is mimic their parents. Our in-house expert echoes that sentiment: If Sarah gets something different from what we have on our plates, she may just commandeer the closest adult serving and say, “This mine. That . . . “--she gestures dismissively at the sectioned child’s plate--” . . . that for you.” She has been known to stuff a handful of lettuce, which she does not like, into her mouth, chew it and swallow it, just to prove that she’s one of the gang.

So: Are you prepared to eat jelly cubes and call them aspic? Consume a deep-sea casserole that tastes suspiciously like Aunt Dot’s tuna surprise? Eat a flour tortilla stuffed with avocado, cheese, carrot, spinach, mayonnaise and (yes) grape jam? These books imply that parents will be happy sharing some, if not all, of the dishes, and if you find one you like, more collective power to the members of your family.

If you don’t, don’t despair. Don’t slink about the kitchen, waiting to be arrested by the parent police. There is a third alternative, not represented here because it doesn’t require a cookbook of its own.

I think of it as the food truce: Give your child what you eat, within reason. More often than not, tailoring your food to a toddler’s taste is merely a matter of degree--you can add the red pepper flakes to the pasta after you’ve cordoned off a junior portion, or slather the chicken with garlic mustard and then remove the skin for your child. You’re having tuna, seared and served quiveringly pink? Overcook one corner, cut it up, and ignore the experts who say that most children don’t care for fish until they’re four. Your child hasn’t read that chapter yet.

If you’ve reviewed your standard diet and found nothing that can be down-scaled for your kid--and granted, there’s probably no way to transform steak with Bearnaise sauce--then you might as well start thinking right now about imaginative answers to the following question: Mom/Dad, if all the stuff you eat is so bad that I can’t eat it, how come you do? A little accommodation goes a long way toward eliminating the double standard and getting you out of the kitchen.

True, those of us who grew up on whole milk and grilled American cheese sandwiches find certain habits hard to give up. If you think your regimen is nutritionally deficient, add special dishes to it--but don’t take it personally if your child turns the offering down. You can lead a child to a cantaloupe low-fat smoothie, but you can’t make him drink.

Recipes are from “A Healthy Head Start” by Mary Abbott Hess, Anne Elise Hunt and Barbara Motenko Stone.

The colors make this dish visually appealing. You can also prepare it the night before and serve cold for breakfast with a glass of milk.

SPAGHETTI WITH COTTAGE CHEESE AND STRAWBERRIES

1/2 cup cooked spaghetti, green or white (about 1 ounce uncooked)

1 teaspoon olive oil

1/4 cup creamed cottage cheese

4 strawberries, diced

Mix spaghetti with olive oil in medium bowl. Stir in cottage cheese. Stir strawberries into spaghetti mixture and serve. Or chill and serve cold. Makes 1 serving.

Each serving contains about:

216 calories; 214 mg sodium; 8 mg cholesterol; 8 grams fat; 27 grams carbohydrates; 10 grams protein; 0.52 grams fiber; 31% calories from fat.

This recipe has a texture similar to traditional creamed pasta dishes without all the fat and cholesterol. It is very quick and easy to make.

FUSILLI WITH CREAMY MUSHROOM-ZUCCHINI SAUCE

1 teaspoon olive oil

1/2 cup thin 1-inch long zucchini strips

1/2 cup finely sliced mushrooms

1/4 cup evaporated milk

2/3 cup cooked fusilli, penne, bows, wheels (red pasta is very pretty with dish)

3 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese

Heat olive oil in small skillet. Add zucchini and mushrooms. Stir-fry over medium-high heat for 2 minutes. Reduce heat to low. Stir-fry another minute, until vegetables begin to brown. Add evaporated milk. Cook 30 seconds. Add pasta. Stir to mix and heat through. Sprinkle cheese on top before serving. Makes 1 cup.

Each serving contains about:

179 calories; 206 mg sodium; 16 mg cholesterol; 8 grams fat; 18 grams carbohydrates; 9 grams protein; 0.32 grams fiber; 39% calories from fat.

The President may not like broccoli, but two of our cover models count it among their favorite foods. These child-size burgers laced with broccoli are good served on miniature whole-grain rolls.

BROCCOLI BURGERS

1/4 pound ground round steak

2 tablespoons finely chopped cooked broccoli (or other vegetable)

1/4 teaspoon dried thyme

2 thin slices Swiss, Cheddar or other favorite cheese

Combine beef, broccoli and thyme in bowl. Mix well and shape into 2 small patties. Grill or broil to desired doneness. Place cheese on top of meat patties just before done. Cook 30 seconds more or until cheese melts. Makes 2 burgers.

Each serving contains about:

209 calories; 81 mg sodium; 56 mg cholesterol; 16 grams fat; 1 gram carbohydrates; 15 grams protein; 0.14 grams fiber; 68% calories from fat.

Orange French Toast is delicious for breakfast--or lunch or a light supper.

ORANGE FRENCH TOAST

1 egg

1/4 cup orange juice

1 tablespoon milk

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

2 slices whole-grain bread

2 teaspoons butter or margarine

1 tablespoon powdered sugar

Beat egg in medium bowl. Add orange juice, milk, vanilla and cinnamon. Beat well. Add bread and soak 5 minutes, turning once. Heat butter in medium skillet. Saute bread until browned, about 1 to 2 minutes. Turn and brown other side. Cool slightly before serving. Sprinkle with powdered sugar. Makes 2 slices.

Each serving contains about:

172 calories; 223 mg sodium; 118 mg cholesterol; 7 grams fat; 22 grams carbohydrates; 6 grams protein; 0.45 grams fiber; 39% calories from fat.