What Makes Me A Foodie Baby

Urban Dictionary (www.urbandictionary.com) defines a Foodie as:

“A person that spends a keen amount of attention and energy on knowing the ingredients of food, the proper preparation of food, and finds great enjoyment in top-notch ingredients and exemplary preparation.
A foodie is not necessarily a food snob, only enjoying delicacies and/or food items difficult to obtain and/or expensive foods; though, that is a variety of foodie.”
Since I am only 16 months old, you may wonder how I got to be a foodie. You may even have a hard time believing I am a foodie. I assure you, I am. And I think my parents have a lot to do with it.
To start, before I was even born, my mom continued to eat lots of different things. She didn’t really give up too many foods. She did limit some things she was told might not be good for me. However, she often made the argument that French women probably don’t stop eating brie and Greek women don’t eliminate feta and Japanese women probably continue to eat sushi so she decided that nearly everything would be okay in moderation. And then, once I was born, she ate all the things she enjoyed and didn’t concern herself with how I might react to the flavors. We were out to lunch one day and she order extra tzatziki with her chicken souvlaki. One of her friends asked if I liked garlic. I believe her response was something along the lines of: she will. And I do.
And so, I think I was destined to be a foodie from the start. And this is how it started.
Within a mere day or two after Dad and Mom brought me home from the hospital, my Grandma took us all out for sushi. I think Mom was really excited because although she hadn’t given up sushi altogether, she hadn’t eaten a lot of it while pregnant and there were some types she didn’t eat all. I don’t really remember that dinner, but we went to one of Mom and Dad’s favorite sushi restaurants in Fells Point (Asahi Sushi – BYOB!) and everything was delicious and I behaved myself by just snuggling with anyone who wanted to hold me.
And that was the beginning. My mom and dad continued to go out and do things, especially go to their favorite restaurants, and they brought me with them so I could learn how to behave in a restaurant.
In October of last year, when I was about four months old, Mom and Dad left me for the first time. They went to New York City to celebrate my Aunt Lindsey’s birthday (I won’t reveal how old she is, it’s just not polite) and I stayed with Nonna and Nonno. Don’t be sad for me though, I had already made my first trip to NYC in August (when I also saw my first Mets game. I was told I needed to learn early the heartache of being a Mets fan – it’s so true.) On Sunday morning, before coming home, Mom and Dad wandered through Chelsea. They had breakfast at Murray’s (mmm… bagels) and then did some shopping in Chelsea Market. They bought me a wonderful book: Foodie Babies Wear Bibs (http://tinyurl.com/4xtdv8q.) That was probably the true start to it all. It was the first time anyone thought of me as a foodie.
Of course, my diet wasn’t varying much yet. I got all the flavors of Mom’s food, but it was always in the same form. I longed to try my hand at something new. My chance would come, I was sure.

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