Q:

On the scale of terrible life events, this probably rates less than a 1, but I’d appreciate some guidance nonetheless, because, honestly, my last nerve is shot. My 17-year-old daughter has recently embraced “clean eating.” This not being my first rodeo, I went along with it. In fact, if I do say so myself, I’ve been quite the trouper, giving her free rein in the kitchen and even considering remortgaging the house to pay for her organic products.

But I’m struggling with hearing my cooking defamed. Telling my other children that the food I’m serving is poison and filled with toxins is crossing a line. Just so you understand the magnitude of the issue — we went from needing a full 9×13 of potato kugel on Erev Shabbos to a mini loaf pan for my husband, who has remained steadfast and loyal to me (and my kugel).

How do I respect her deeply held beliefs while maintaining my dignity and the dignity of my food?

A:

Years ago I had a wise supervisor who used to refer to difficult situations and failures as RLE’s: Rich Learning Experiences. I believe your dilemma is one such example of an RLE. Hashem has provided you a rich opportunity to teach your daughter and the rest of your children about the proper way to disagree.

You can teach them about respectful dialogue, about discussing ideas without being disparaging, about the relative value of objects and ideas, and that few things in life are black-and-white. Your kitchen has become a lab in which to study the art of mutual respect even as we hold certain ideas dear. This is a chance to talk about gratitude, to explain that we can  appreciate what we have and what people do for us even when things are not exactly as we wish.

It sounds like it’s time for a conversation about mutual respect. It might surprise her to hear that you don’t necessarily think “clean eating” is the be-all and end-all, but that you’re supporting her because it’s important to her. Let her know that you would like that respect in return, as your house is one that is run on respect.

And if all that fails, hand her the apron and tell her she is welcome to cook all meals for the family from here on in, while you quietly sip your Slurpee on the deck.