Kiwi Smoothies — The First Spoon, and the Drinks We Make to Celebrate It

Spring is fighting its way into Milwaukee. Forty-five degrees on Wednesday. The yard is thawing. Gerald II the groundhog has been spotted, which means six more weeks of — no, wait, that's February. Gerald II doesn't follow the Punxsutawney rules. Gerald II follows the Bay View rules, which is "come out when you feel like it and eat whatever's in the garden."

Tommy is five months old and he's starting to eat solid food — if "eat" is the right word. More accurately, he's starting to wear solid food. Rice cereal on his face. Sweet potato on his bib. Banana in his hair. The high chair is a Jackson Pollock painting after every meal. I photograph the aftermath because someday I will show these photos to his prom date.

I made his first food from scratch. Not the rice cereal — that came from a box. But the sweet potato puree was homemade: one sweet potato, roasted, mashed, thinned with breast milk. Simple. Pure. The first thing my son has eaten that I cooked. The first link in the chain. Babcia to me to Tommy. The food passes down. It starts here, with a spoon of sweet potato and a baby who is more interested in smearing it on the tray than eating it.

At the brewery, the rhubarb sour is in development — the first of the seasonal series. Tart, pink, bright. Rhubarb from a farm in Waukesha. The tartness of the rhubarb mirrors the tartness of the wild yeast and together they create something that is both familiar and new. Like parenthood. Like everything.

The small Polish-American heritage is the small kitchen-identity. The small pierogi-recipe-cards from Babcia Helen (Jake’s grandmother who passed in 2018, who had lived two blocks from the small Bay-View family-house) is the small monthly-Saturday-tradition. The small kielbasa-and-sauerkraut. The small bigos. The small recipes that came over from the small Krakow-region in the small 1910s.

The small Milwaukee-winter is the small six-month-condition. The small cold-weather-comfort-food rotation runs October through April. The small soups, the small stews, the small braises, the small heavy-baked-goods. The small Midwestern-comfort-vocabulary is the small kitchen-language.

Megan and Jake married in June 2024. The small newlywed-rhythm is in its small second year. The small two-bedroom rental on the small east-side of Milwaukee continues to be the small first-home. The small thirty-year-mortgage-eventually-someday is the small five-year-goal. The small marriage is the small foundation the small life is being built on.

Megan and Jake married in June 2024. The small newlywed-rhythm is in its small second year. The small two-bedroom rental on the small east-side of Milwaukee continues to be the small first-home. The small thirty-year-mortgage-eventually-someday is the small five-year-goal. The small marriage is the small foundation the small life is being built on.

The small Lakefront Brewery shift-work continues to be the small steady-paycheck. The small forty-hour-week brewery-floor job pays the small twenty-two-an-hour rate that the small Milwaukee-blue-collar-economy supports. The small benefits are the small union-decent. The small ten-year-tenure-target is the small career-anchor.

The small Polish-American heritage is the small kitchen-identity. The small pierogi-recipe-cards from Babcia Helen (Jake’s grandmother who passed in 2018, who had lived two blocks from the small Bay-View family-house) is the small monthly-Saturday-tradition. The small kielbasa-and-sauerkraut. The small bigos. The small recipes that came over from the small Krakow-region in the small 1910s.

Megan is from a small Irish-Catholic Milwaukee-suburban family. The small Sunday-dinners at her small parents’ house rotate with the small Sunday-dinners at Jake’s parents’ house. The small in-laws on both sides have been the small welcoming-presence. The small two-family-network is the small extended-support the small newlywed-life rests on.

The small Milwaukee-winter is the small six-month-condition. The small cold-weather-comfort-food rotation runs October through April. The small soups, the small stews, the small braises, the small heavy-baked-goods. The small Midwestern-comfort-vocabulary is the small kitchen-language.

The small future-kid-conversations have begun. Megan teaches small fourth-grade at a small public school in Wauwatosa. The small adoption-vs-biological conversation is in the small early-discussion stage. The small five-year-plan includes the small kid-or-kids in some form. The small kitchen is the small place where the small future is being practiced.

Tommy’s sweet potato puree was the first thing I cooked for my son — one ingredient, roasted, mashed, passed down the chain. There’s something about that simplicity that stuck with me all week. So when I wanted to make something for myself to mark the moment, I kept the same philosophy: fresh, bright, barely any effort, nothing hiding behind it. A kiwi smoothie felt exactly right — the color of early spring, tart like that rhubarb sour fermenting at the brewery, and simple enough that the ingredient is the whole point. Babcia to me to Tommy. And now this, humming in the blender while the high chair dries in the dish rack.

Kiwi Smoothies

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 5 minutes | Servings: 2

Ingredients

• 4 ripe kiwis, peeled and roughly chopped
• 1 medium banana, sliced and frozen
• 1 cup plain whole-milk yogurt (or dairy-free alternative)
• 1/2 cup fresh orange juice
• 1 tablespoon honey (optional, to taste)
• 1/2 cup ice cubes
• Fresh kiwi slices, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

1. Prep the fruit. Peel and chop the kiwis. If your banana isn’t already frozen, fresh works — the smoothie will just be a little thinner. Slice it up regardless.
2. Load the blender. Add the kiwi, frozen banana, yogurt, and orange juice to your blender. Add honey if you’d like a touch more sweetness — ripe kiwis may not need it.
3. Blend until smooth. Start on low and increase to high. Blend for 45–60 seconds until completely smooth and creamy. Add ice and blend for another 20 seconds to chill.
4. Taste and adjust. Give it a sip. Add a splash more OJ if it’s too thick, or another handful of ice if you want it colder. More honey if it needs it.
5. Pour and serve. Divide between two glasses. Garnish with a fresh kiwi slice on the rim if you’re feeling like it matters — sometimes it does. Drink immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 210 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 3g | Carbs: 42g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 55mg