I started working with preschoolers a few years ago, not long after I quit my office job. These days, I help out in a pre-k classroom at a school downtown, close to Rincon Center. The boys are obsessed with Star Wars, even the original movies, and the girls sport headbands like Lynda Carter-era Wonder Women. Some of their families call San Francisco home; many live in Marin, south of San Francisco, or in the suburbs of Oakland. A lot of them eat catered school lunches; others lug boxes and bags inevitably embellished with culturally significant images -- Yoda, Tinkerbell, Dora -- and stocked with kid-friendly things: string cheese sticks, raisins, fruit, lunch meat, hummus, and miniature yogurt cups and juice boxes from Trader Joe's and Costco.

Our relationships with food begin when we're very young. We're shaped by what our parents give us. We like what we learn to like. Foods in fun packages -- like pigs-in-a-blanket and eggs-in-a-basket -- are universally appealing. Foods we associate with good times -- like Popsicles -- are as well. Childhood memories are powerful things, our therapists tell us. Chefs know this too. That's why Grant Achatz of the esteemed Alinea in Chicago served, on his restaurant's opening night, a whimsical riff on an American lunch-box staple: one peeled grape, warmed, still on its stem, dipped in a peanut puree and wrapped in brioche -- the mad scientist's peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich.

Every Tuesday morning, the class visits the Ferry Building. We teachers gently prod our shifty little charges into the loose winding semblance of a line and lead them, meandering along the sidewalks, dashing through crosswalks. "Smells gross," a boy once sniffed as we passed Yank Sing, the damp, slightly acrid scent of vapor hissing from steamers inside. "That's only the best dim sum in San Francisco," I almost blurted out incredulously. I remembered, of course, that I was walking with under-sized humans who still cried for their mommies and wet their pants on occasion. They'd never pecked a tiny hole in the soft translucent skin of a perfect Shanghai dumpling and slurped -- with greedy, Dracula-like precision -- the sweet, concentrated broth within. Divorced from that experience, the smell was, in fact, a little icky. An iron grate covers a patch of pavement directly outside of Boulevard, on the Mission St. side. The kids like to jump on it as they pass because it clangs noisily. A waiter inside polishing glasses -- readying for the lunch hour rush -- inevitably chuckles. Their small heads bob just barely into view with every leap.

I wonder if marching into the Ferry Building farmer's market flanked by a posse of adorable 4-year-olds isn't a bit like rolling into a club with a bunch of professional basketball players. You receive a lot of attention but it's all purely by association. Beaming retirees and fanny-pack-toting tourists -- this scene's coterie of doting fans and relentless paparazzi -- hover, stare, cluck, and coo. When cameras come out, teachers act swiftly, more like security personnel than hangers-on. "No photos, please," we say firmly. "They're minors." Once, a very old woman wheeling her husband -- a man in much less robust health -- sidled up to me winking, her face as round, wrinkled, and fuzzy as an over-ripe apricot: "Do any of them need a Jewish grandma?" she practically pleaded. "Yes," I responded. "Doesn't everyone?"

"Potato," by Reese, age 4. She drew a potato and started to scrawl the word, but decided to write "green bean" instead.

For the kids, a Tuesday trip to the Ferry Building is an overwhelming assault of sensory delights. They grab at anything within reach. They swivel their heads as they walk, twirling constantly to see what's happening behind them, mindful that they're always missing something. Things fall apart; the line cannot hold. The other day, we were leaving the farmer's market, heading for the lobster tanks inside, when a girl prone to dawdling dawdled. I asked her to catch up. She stared up at me and offered a retort for which I had no rote teacher-ly rejoinder "I'm just looking at the world." At that moment, Incanto chef, Boccalone owner, and Food Network presence Chris Cosentino glided by, pushing a produce-stacked cart. A small blond boy sat on top of the cart, giggling. "Weeeee," said the kid. I thought of Old Mcdonald's Farm -- the mooing cows, quacking ducks, and oinking pigs, and what Chris Cosentino would do with them if he had the chance.

This week, we checked out the mushroom mini-farms at Far West Fungi. "Eeek, blech," said a girl, scrunching her eyes and nose, tilting her head to properly appraise the craggy shitake caps poking out from what looked like a wizened loaf of pumpernickel. "You don't like mushrooms?" I asked. "I like mushrooms, but not ones with yucky shells," she explained, cackling, waving her hands at me as if I were a dunce and she was making perfect sense. She noticed a poster of wild mushrooms hanging outside the store. "I like this one," she said, pointing to a particular 'shroom. "That is a shitake," I said. "It's just like the ones on the log you said were yucky." Three hours later, she woke up from a nap and grabbed my leg as I walked past her mat. "Actually, I only like two kinds of mushrooms," she said, as if to clear up a misunderstanding. "I like the big ones and the little round ones." "Okay," I responded. 'The rest are yucky," she added, sighing conclusively as she rolled over to fall back asleep.

As part of the weekly ritual, we pick out vegetables and fruits for the kids to enjoy for a pre-playground snack after nap. The kids make choices, which is good for them to do. We try to present attractive options: produce to provoke curiosity and wonder -- like lemon cucumbers, sweet gnarled bell peppers sporting psychedelic hues, little damson plums, and baby carrots in leafy bunches etc. At snack-time, they're excited but picky -- especially when it comes to vegetables which, unlike most fruits, aren't usually sweet and, on some level, candy-like.

"Green Bean," by Stella, age 4. She drew a green bean and then turned it into an airplane.

I am reminded of a story my mother once told me. She had a nasty 3rd grade teacher with a favorite adage -- "you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink" -- and she took pleasure in invoking it whenever students dozed, doodled, or clowned through her class. The saying has drifted through my mind at snack-time, though in this case, it expresses patience, not exasperation. To rope in another livestock platitude, the vegetables kids adamantly refuse -- no matter how sustainable, delicious, and healthy they may be -- are not pearls cast before proverbial swine. You can't force much with kids and food. You can lead them to water, and while you can't make them drink, you can drink yourself, in front of them, and tell them how good it is. If you're funny and sincere enough, sooner or later, they'll get thirsty. Breathlessly extolling their virtues between bites, I practically wore out my molars chomping purple peppers before a boy took pity on me, kind of shaking his head as he reached out a small pudgy paw for his own sliver.

4-year-olds don't know that much yet. They also have a pretty limited vocabulary. Yet they're -- like George -- endlessly curious, and constantly -- unlike George -- growing and honing new tools for comprehension and conversation. As a result, they're very good at asking obvious, simple questions that actually require difficult, complex answers. On Tuesday, halfway through the afternoon, two children, a boy and a girl, argued. The boy yelped imperiously, "Did you know that if dinosaurs were alive now, they would eat us?" The girl guffawed in disbelief. "Eat us?" she snorted, probably, for once, not on purpose. "No way! Why would they eat us? We're not food." The boy nodded solemnly, closing his eyes as his head swung up and down. "They would. Do you know why? Because we have meat in our bodies." The girl started to say something, then paused, her eyes wandering down to the arms hanging at her sides. She lifted her left arm with her right hand and let it flop down, limp. She picked it up again and squeezed it slowly and deliberately, feeling bone and muscle, her fingers crawling all the way up to her tiny shoulder. You could tell her brain was working hard. She was thinking about meat -- what she knew of it, where she thought it came from, what it looked like, what it tasted like. Grilled chicken. Pepperoni on pizza. Ham sandwiches. Shrimp. She yelled at me from halfway across the room: "Do we have meat in our bodies for real?"

I tried to pretend I hadn't heard. She yelled again. I took a deep breath. I walked over and knelt down on the carpet. I didn't mind talking about it; I just wasn't sure where to begin.

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs -- a movie based on the children's book of the same name by Judi and Ron Barrett -- might very well be the next Ratatouille for mini foodies and their parents.

I don't think they'll be calling in Thomas Keller for a culinary consult, but I do know that Cloudy... is one of my husband's favorite childhood books, and I think a movie treatment is genius. I was initially a little nervous to hear the movie wasn't coming from Pixar. However, after watching the Sony trailer, my nerves are totally dispelled, and I can't wait to see it.

Clearly, it won't be exactly like the book. In fact, it appears the writers used the book more as a jumping off point rather than copying it verbatim, which makes sense because the book is really just a grandfather regaling his grandchildren with stories about a town that would easily beat out San Francisco and New York for best eating.

The movie takes this concept a step further by inventing individual characters, like Flint Lockwood -- the inventor who is responsible for turning his town into a culinary mecca with all sorts of foodstuffs falling from the sky -- and other townspeople, who get caught up in the euphoria and insanity of experiencing manna in a non-biblical sense.

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs is due out September 18th, but in the meantime, all this talk of meatballs has gotten me hungry, so here's a roundup of my five favorite meatballs in the Bay Area. You might want to think about dining at one or all before seeing the movie to combat any meatball envy you're sure to experience during the movie. Better yet, see if you can sneak some meatball action into the theatre with you.

A16
Meatballs available only on Mondays.

2355 Chestnut Street
San Francisco, CA

Mayfield Cafe and Bakery
Wood-oven baked meatballs available from the lunch menu.

Town & Country Village
855 El Camino Real
Palo Alto, CA

Pizzeria Delfina
Neapoletan meatballs in sugo only at their California Street location.

2406 California Street
San Francisco, CA

Beretta
Meatballs in a spicy tomato sauce available from their antipasti menu.

1199 Valencia Street
San Francisco, CA

Saigon Sandwich
The vietnamese meatball sandwich -- bánh mì -- is a perfect storm of flavors.

560 Larkin St
San Francisco, CA

If you want to make your own meatballs, I've found that the recipe Simply Recipes adapted from A16's original to be quite wonderful.

Finally, no piece about meatballs could go by without this little delight:

My mother never wanted to be taken out on Mother's Day. "Don't you dare," she'd say, half-joking but half-serious. Mostly, she disliked the obligatory part of it, the thought of being surrounded by, as she said, "all those people who probably never talk to each other the rest of the year, having to be nice to the old bat because it's her day." Not us, of course, but still she had no interest in getting hauled out for overpriced mimosas and underdone eggs Benedict.

What she did like was a homemade breakfast, wobbled up the stairs as soon as the oldest of her three girls was able to carry a tray. We didn't make anything particularly fancy, but just putting together eggs, toast, and coffee can be a challenge when you're four, seven and eight, even with Dad on deck. Partly, I think, she enjoyed the simple luxury of a morning off, but it also reassured her that we'd picked up the basics of what she did to feed us, day in and day out.

As she attests in her lavishly illustrated and user-friendly new book, Williams-Sonoma Family Meals: Creating Traditions in the Kitchen, cookbook author and former PlumpJack Cafe chef Maria Helm Sinskey feels the same way. Kids should know where their food comes from, whether it means picking out carrots at the market or helping Dad fry shrimp.

This isn't a kids' cookbook; instead, it's a cooking-together kind of book, full of dishes and menus that a whole family can make and enjoy together.

Helm Sinskey, her husband (acclaimed organic winemaker Robert Sinskey) and their two girls are adorable, the styling is charming, the recipes look both tasty and accessible, and alright, I'll admit it: by page 50, I was envious (those chickens! that lavender! those sweet dirty carrots!), and by page 260, I was downright suspicious. Who were these preternaturally well-behaved children daintily cutting out star shapes from their very own homemade marshmallows? As they frolic in the meadows around the Sinskeys' gorgeous wine-country house while stuffing handfuls of fresh vegetables into their mouths and saying things like "Mommy, you make the best vanilla ice cream ever!" the whole package can seem almost too rustically perfect.

Then again, it's a Williams-Sonoma book, not real life. And dinner with the Sinskeys sure looks like fun. In a time when some kids live on juice boxes and Cheerios, and other parents treat a single cupcake like a gateway drug to a lifetime sugar binge, Helm Sinskey's approach is refreshingly down to earth.

Her family seems to make the most of that old standby, the varied and balanced diet. Fresh fruits and vegetables are treated as a joy and a treat, not like pills that have to be gooped with brownie batter before they'll go down. As a smart mom and chef, she advocates for sustainable, responsible eating, providing helpful lists of recommended seafood, for example, or the differences between grass- and grain-fed beef. But she also doesn't flinch from serving reasonable amounts of butter, cream, steak, and yes, marshmallows. She can wax rhapsodic about red lentils and yellow split peas while also giving step-by-step instructions for making your own bacon.

In fact, the rainy-day projects interspersed throughout the book, like rolling pasta and pizza dough, simmering chicken stock, and making homemade jam and ricotta cheese, really make this two books in one.

The everyday recipes are good enough for company but generally simple enough to get on the table for a family meal, especially if some little hands help shell the peas, shuck the corn, or peel the shrimp.

The projects are part science (how does yeast grow? why does milk curdle?) part kitchen technique, and part educational messy fun. Who needs a Game Boy when you can be making real, honest-to-Pete home-cured bacon? OK, that last one might take a little convincing. But a kid who can make her own bacon is a kid well-prepared for adulthood. Thank Maria Helm Sinskey for that.

Wine tasting is usually not a preferred outing with small children. I don’t regularly take my kids to tasting rooms and don’t necessarily recommend that you take your own kids to Napa and Sonoma for a weekend winery tour. That said, after stumbling upon a few wineries while on family vacations, I have found that, in some places, wine tasting with kids in tow can actually be fun for everyone. It has been my experience that vineyards in out-of-the way places are pretty accepting of kids being part of the experience, and, in some cases, quite welcoming. Many wineries off the beaten track don’t seem to mind if your kids frolic though the gardens and vines as long as you are respectful of the property. This is especially true if you purchase a few bottles of wine before you hightail it out of there. Of course, you have to make doubly sure you don’t sip too much before getting behind the wheel, particularly when you’re about to drive on a bumpy Hawaiian road that leads part-way up to a volcano (but more about that in a bit).

I’ve always loved visiting vineyards, especially with my husband who is a wine enthusiast. I also have always relished spending a little time at a vineyard. The lush green landscapes filled with grape vines surrounded by roses and wisteria really appeals to my inner-world fantasy of going back in time and living as a member of the landed gentry. Before our daughters were born, we would occasionally go to Sonoma or Napa, and have since made journeys up there without kids. I had never actually gone wine tasting with our kids until recently, however, and all of our previous visits were planned events. Before we had kids, we took some typical France and Spain vacations with visits to tasting rooms in old cobblestone buildings full of boisterous German tourists -- one group’s fashion ensembles were so eclectic that we weren’t sure if we were a bit dizzy from too much wine or too much plaid mixed with stripes -- but these outings were specifically made to find vineyards and taste wine.

I’ve found, however, that although it’s fun to plan out your visits to the wine country, discovering wineries in unexpected locations can be even more fun. We had two such experiences in the last year. One was at Tedeschi Vineyards, a pineapple winery we found in Maui, and the second Navarro Vineyards in Mendocino County. Although we should have expected to find wine in the latter location, as it’s in the Anderson Valley, we were camping at the time and looking for a fun place to play in the river. We were therefore surprised when we rounded a bend and came face to face with a vineyard whose wines we had enjoyed in the past at a friend’s house.

While we were in Maui last year, we heard about Tadeschi Vineyards on the way to Mount Haleakala. As we had missed the sunrise, were too early for the sunset, and the drive up the volcano was two hours each way, we decided to do a little wine tasting instead. Tadeschi Vineyards is near the end of the main winding highway on the inner part of Maui. I think the road once went through to Hana, but when we were there, the extended road was closed. Although it’s quite close -- as the crow flies -- to Kihei and Wailea, it’s about an hour’s drive to both. So we made our way down to the vineyard, and if our kids hadn’t been moaning about how they were missing a day at the beach the whole time, the drive would have been lovely.

When we got to the vineyard, I was surprised that it was fairly crowded. The wine tasting area is set up to do a brisk business, and there were retired people and families everywhere, buying up pineapple dishtowels, candles, jams and, of course, wine. They make wine made from both pineapples and grapes, and I have to say I liked neither, but we bought a couple of bottles of the pineapple stuff anyway and had them shipped to our house for curiosity’s sake. Although the drive took a while and the wine wasn’t great, I loved visiting Tadeschi Vineyards. The winery itself is beautiful and, once we left the bustle of the shop full of kitsch, we were able to roam around and enjoy the grounds while our kids explored the property.

Even closer is Navarro Vineyards. Although this fairly well-known winery is located in the heart of the Anderson Valley, we were in the area to camp and so weren’t really expecting go wine tasting the first time we happened upon them. There are a few really great things about Navarro Vineyards. In addition to it being near the Navarro River, which is fun to play in, they make every attempt to be a sustainable working farm, avoiding insecticides and herbicides, banding the area with lots of cover crops to keep the beneficial insect population in business, and using chickens and goats to weed and fertilize the grounds. They also utilize solar panels to help power their operation. Navarro also makes really great grape juice, and the tasting room staff is happy to pour some for your kids so they can enjoy something to drink and feel included in the experience while you swirl your Pinot Noir. Finally, they also make some very nice wines which are, for the most part, only available via mail order or in their shop. So, stopping by on your way to raft in the Navarro River has its advantages. Other great wineries are also in the area, such as Scharffenberger Cellars just down the road in Philo.

As I’m always on the lookout for mixing outings with wine tastings, I’d love to hear about any wineries you’ve stumbled upon during your own travels, and if you found them to be kid friendly. Although my budget will not guarantee that I will get to them all, I can always dream.

Ever since Jessica Seinfeld’s book “Deceptively Delicious” was a hit last year, I’ve been contemplating why people feel the need to hide vegetables in their children's meals. I need to say up front that the idea of hiding vegetables in food has always made me cringe. Although I would like to think my dislike for being "deceptive" is due to my belief that parents should always be honest with their children, I must admit my sensibility as a true vegetable lover is offended as well.

I am also confused as to why this book was such a big hit. I realize that the author is Jerry Seinfeld's wife, and that the exposure she received from her publisher is pretty impressive, but is there more to the story (other than another cookbook author suing both Seinfelds for plagiarism)? My question is: why has the vegetable become persona non grata at the family dinner table?

I can think of many reasons why parents should avoid hiding vegetables in their kids' food. For one thing, if the veggies are hidden, kids have no idea they’re actually eating them. Although this may seem to be the point of masquerading them in the first place, it sets up a scenario where children grow up thinking they can live vegetable-free lives. Okay, maybe not vegetable free entirely, but if vegetables aren't a part of a child's regular daily food consumption, she (or he) won't acquire a taste for them and so won't necessarily want to eat them as an adult. Stealth recipes, as Ms. Seinfeld calls them, can eventually backfire. The trick of pureeing and chopping up vegetables so children don't notice them will only work for so long. At some point, those little smarties will figure it out and when they do, they'll get the message that vegetables are "gross" and inedible, worthy only of being smashed to bits and hidden in meat, pasta or cheese. I realize that many parents themselves aren't vegetables lovers, but instead of throwing in the towel and passing on an aversion to an essential food group, I suggest exploring new and different ways of eating and preparing vegetables with the kids.

With this in mind, here are some suggestions for serving vegetables in an open and honest way with your family. They may not all work for you, but the chances that one or two of these suggestions could make even a small impact is worth a try.

1. Take your children with you to the store or farmer’s market to pick out the vegetables themselves. Show them the variety of vegetables available, as well as the vibrant colors and different textures. When you get home, your kids will be more excited about the vegetables they've chosen for the family dinner table and more likely to eat them.

2. Take your child to the farmer’s market and speak with the farmer or sales person about the vegetables that are currently in season. This will help your children to build a curiosity about where their food comes from.

3. Grow your own vegetables if you have a yard. And, even if you don't, try growing some small container plants like cherry tomatoes or peppers. After growing a vegetable for weeks to months, your child will be excited to get to pick it her or himself and, more importantly, eat it.

Note: Gardening doesn't have to be labor intensive. If you want to spend a lot of time in your yard, you can have a beautiful garden, but this isn't necessary. Just pick a few plants to grow and be sure to water them every couple of days.

4. Ask your child to help you cook. They can help you wash the vegetables, peel them, chop with supervision, and actually do some of the cooking. If your child feels a sense of pride about the meal your family is eating, he or she is more likely to want to eat it.

Idea: One way to do this, now that it's almost Spring, is to buy fresh English peas in the pod and spend time with your kids shelling them. This is a fun hands-on experience that my daughters love. Oh, and be sure to let them taste them raw.

5. Make vegetables fun by purchasing them in a new way.

Idea: Try buying purple potatoes or different colored carrots to spark your child's interest. In the Fall, you can also buy Brussels sprouts on the stalk. When my daughters were about four, they weren't thrilled with sprouts until we bought them this way; but, after an afternoon of plucking them off the stem and then pretending the stem was a scepter, they loved them. I now try to buy the sprouts on the stalk as often as I can. Buying Brussels sprouts has become an event instead of a hated side dish (I don't have a picture of Brussels sprouts on the stem here as they’re not in season, but check out those purple carrots!).

6. Respect that your child will not love every vegetable and allow them to name one or two that they prefer not to eat. Then ask them which vegetables they love and make a point to eat one of them that evening.

7. Try serving some vegetables raw with dip as part of your meal or as a snack. Great vegetables to use are carrots, peppers, cucumbers, snap peas, green beans, broccoli, and fennel.

8. Try cooking vegetables in a different way. Sometimes a child's aversion may be to the texture or preparation of a dish, rather than the vegetable itself.

Idea: Instead of steaming cauliflower, try chopping it up into small florets and roasting it with olive oil and butter topped with some fresh bread crumbs.

9. Serve vegetables every day so they become a natural part of the meal.

10. Be sure to eat your own plate of vegetables in front of your child so they see you enjoying them yourself. In this case, actions really do speak far louder than words.