Perhaps the most fraught area parents face in raising their kids are meal times, when children bemoan their misfortune at not being cast in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and parents resort to the kind of plea bargaining that would raise the eyebrow of even the most seasoned judge.

"C'mon Johnnie, just eat your broccoli and we'll take you to Disneyland."

It's war out there and neither side is taking prisoners.

A fair bit of the fight is not really about the flavour or texture of food, rather, it's about control. Think about it, young people, especially those under, say, ten, don't experience much sense of control over their environment, but soon discover that what they are eating is of great importance to their parents or carers along with the sense of power which stems from that.

Rarely is it that they find this or that vegetable repulsive, but that there is so much more to gain in refusing a food that is of no consequence to them if they eat it or not.

In our house with a nine year old, dinner time is often an exercise in absolute power and as parents, we have to find different strategies to overcome our dinner plate dictator.

Playing with textures is one way to handle the situation, shredding, mashing and pureeing often times gets the job done. But just lately, we have discovered a new, somewhat shameful, method.

Deceit.

Yep, we tell bald faced lies to our own flesh and blood and I'm becoming increasingly worried that it's all going to come and bite me on the bum one day.

Our dilemma is this. M has discovered that some forms of meat come from rather young, okay, let's say baby animals and in a kindly display of empathy, is now refusing to eat veal or lamb or anything that suspiciously could be mistaken for such, which just about covers all forms of meat.

The one meat that she does love however, is chicken, so magically, just about everything she eats now is chicken - only it's not.

Lamb cutlet...chicken on a stick, veal shank, why that's just an overblown drumstick, cubed pork becomes chicken pieces, though both happily and sadly, M knows exactly how good crackling is!

My problem is this, it cannot go on forever; one day she'll be able to recognize all the various cuts, M must be absorbing something from all those regular trips to the butcher's shop.

When that happens, I'm sure I'm going to hear something like this...

"Dad, you don't even know what a bloody chicken is, are you sure you really know how to cook?"

I'm practicing my shamefaced look.

In today's Herald Sun, Gordon Ramsey claims the real reason he apologised about insulting and demeaning remarks he made towards Channel 9's Tracy Grimshaw, was that he received a 'bollocking' from his mum on the phone.

His alleged mother denies making any such call to her son, leading to the conclusion, that in fact, Ramsey has another mother, hidden away somewhere.

There are whispers that her mouth and temper are much worse than her famous celebrity son's, which could go a long way to explaining why her existence has never before been revealed; there simply isn't enough oxygen to fuel the both of them at the same time, without either one passing out.

In another stunning revelation, Miss Piggy has alleged that Gordon is the father of her new born off-spring and a photo has been circulating of the apparent love child.



Readers are invited to make up their own mind.

Miss Piggy, however, was completely distraught as the latest scandal unfolded.

"Why can't Tracy Grimshaw just butt out, I was there long before her. The way he picked me up was just amazing, he called me an ugly old pig and I just melted. I can't believe he wasted those words on that woman, he gets all the pork he needs from me."

The two lucky people to get a ticket to the Good Food Show and cheese masterclass are lexrial and Cindy. Could you email me with your postal details, my contact button is in the right hand side column.