We had roasted stuffed trout for dinner. Iris was very interested in this. Yesterday when I mentioned it, she said, “And will the trout get very, very big when you stuff it?” Today she demanded to help stuff. And help she did, shoveling orange-scented fennel and red onion into the belly of the fish. Then she was disappointed that I didn’t let her help put the bacon into the hot fish after it came out of the oven (a step suggested by Cook’s Illustrated on the grounds that the bacon becomes too chewy if you cook it inside the fish).

Stuffed trout is easier to make than it is to eat, because you want to just cut off a hunk with stuffing sandwiched between two pieces of boneless fish, but there are many bones in the way of this noble intention. For this reason and because Iris is frequently more enthusiastic about cooking than eating, I figured she would forget about the trout by the time it hit the table and concentrate on the hash browns I served with it.

Wrong. Iris ate the fish, the bacon, the vegetables, the potatoes, and even…well…

To say that she was undeterred by the fact that the fish’s head was there on the platter would be an understatement. “There’s the head!” she pointed out. I found a piece of cheek meat and ate it, and Iris said, “I want to eat some cheek.”

I said okay and rooted around for another piece.

> **Iris:** There’s some cheek.

> **Me:** No, that’s the eyeball.

> **Iris:** I want to eat the eyeball.

> **Me:** Seriously?

> **Iris:** Yes. [eats the eyeball] It’s gooey! Why is it gooey?

> **Laurie:** Eyeballs are just like that.

> **Iris:** [eats another bite of eyeball]

Great, now Iris is officially a more adventurous eater than I am. She’ll be taking over this blog tomorrow. Except she can’t type! In your face, eyeball-phage!