The Barefoot Investor for Families

by Scott Pape

  Not you. Not your kids.

  Of course, your kids are still going to pester you for some things. (It’s in their job description.)

  However, with this Money Meal (and the ones you’ve done over the past few weeks) you’re beginning to break the brainwashing.

  Flogglebox will teach your kids to be sceptical about the media (and they should be!).

  And there’s nothing like a bit of second-hand ‘trash and treasure’ to change the way they think about stuff.

  Besides, if they really, really want something—they can buy it out of their own jam jars! And if they buy something they end up regretting, that’s another valuable lesson right there.

  Next up, we’re going to get the kids in the kitchen to host a Money Meal that you’re going to love.

  ‘Our kids have learned to be conscious consumers’

  Lauren and Simon Finger, Yannathan, VIC

  Over the years we have accumulated lots of stuff.

  Our three children—aged 9, 8 and 6—have many ‘wants’, and love to compare to what they see other children get.

  Yet I started to feel like I was drowning in it all . . . excess furniture, toys, baby things, books, kitchen gadgets I didn’t use. It all has to be stored and maintained, and tidying the house felt entirely unachievable!

  Well, I decided to get serious in reducing the clutter.

  We held our own ‘Family Treasure Hunt’—and got the kids to find things to sell that no longer brought them joy.

  Matthew sold a toy truck and bulldozer, and Claire and Rachael sold their vintage double school desk that was too small. Because they were in good condition, they got nearly two-thirds of the value of what they would be worth new!

  Of course, seeing it go to another home and not to waste is the primary motivation, but the cash is a (surprisingly big) bonus. What’s more, our daughter Claire was able to turn an ‘impossible’ $300 target to buy a loft bed into a much more achievable $100 by buying second-hand from e-Bay. She was very happy with the result!

  But best of all, it’s given us the opportunity to have great conversations about whether ‘stuff’ actually makes you any happier—or whether it just makes you want more stuff.

  I really believe the experience has taught our kids to be conscious consumers—to think about whether they really need or want things, or whether the money would be better saved for the future.

  The Grandparents’ Dinner Party

  I have friends who take photos of their home-cooked creations and upload them to Instagram (#nokids).

  Yet let’s be honest for a second: if you’ve got kids, sometimes dinner . . . is a shiitake show.

  Well, in this chapter we’ll chop up a way to not only get your kids to cook you dinner . . . but have them actually enjoy the process.

  You know that TV show Survivor?

  We’re going to play our own reality game: your kids will be dispatched with $30 and sent off to the supermarket to get supplies, so they can survive in the wilds of suburbia. It’s the ultimate survival strategy for departing teens.

  You know that show The Bachelor?

  Bugger the rose ceremony, I’ll teach your kids how to become marriage material (including the recipe that won over my wife).

  Oh, and because I’m more finance than foodie, I’ve passed the potato peeler to one of the best cooks I know, who’ll stop by to teach your kids two simple recipes.

  By the time you’ve finished this chapter, your kids will have ‘learned to cook at least two low-cost, delicious, nutritious meals from scratch’, which is the third challenge of the Barefoot Ten.

  For now, though, let me tell you about the hidden cost of Uber Eats.

  The hidden cost of Uber Eats

  When I was growing up my mum did a ‘big shop’ once a fortnight.

  My sister and I would perch ourselves on the kitchen bench and eagerly watch Mum pull groceries out of the shopping bags like she was some supermarket Santa.

  Yet, excited as we were, we knew we couldn’t immediately scoff all the Scotch Fingers, because it would be two looooong weeks before Santa came again.

  Back then, supermarket shopping was a total haemorrhoid: there were no 24/7 supermarkets, no Sunday trading, and takeaway was really only for Friday or Saturday night—if we were lucky. (And restaurants were reserved for special occasions, like birthdays with zeroes on the end of them.)

  And that’s why Mum made each meal stretch:

  Monday: Lamb roast (and, as we’ve discussed, she’d recycle the fat).

  Tuesday: Lamb sangers in my lunchbox.

  Wednesday: Cold lamb and three veg for dinner.

  Today that’s all changed.

  We can now sit on the couch, thumb through Uber Eats, order our single serve, and track it all the way to the door.

  It’s only $25 a serve (with delivery).

  And we’re doing it more than ever—online takeaway food sales increased more than 50 per cent in 2017.

  Australians spent $2.6 billion last year just on companies such as Uber Eats, Menulog and Deliveroo —around $1590 a year per person, according to Finder.

  So, who’s buying?

  Kids under 30 account for almost half of all fast food purchases, and a third of restaurant trade.

  True story: a mate of mine has four teenage kids, and he complained that the other night they all ordered separate single meals from Uber Eats!

  Another true story: I work with a guy who’s a multi-millionaire . . . and always arrives at the office with a cheese sandwich he made himself. ‘No point in wasting money eating out,’ he says.

  Different mindset.

  The millionaire mindset: leftover lunches

  Thing is, if you’re eating takeaway, it also means that there are no leftovers the next day (so that’ll be another $15 on lunch . . . call it $20 with a coffee).

  When you become conditioned to swiping an app, you don’t see the money coming out of your wallet and you get in the habit of eating prepared food rather than cooking.

  In short, if your kids don’t learn how to cook before they move out, they’ll waste a heap of money.

  Besides, cooking has other advantages . . .

  On my first date with Liz, I was very nervous. Yet I didn’t take her out to some swanky restaurant. Instead, I invited her over to my place for a candlelit dinner (minus the candles), and pulled out the big guns: Scott’s Famous Pasta (more on this a little later).

  Liz was clearly impressed with my culinary skills.

  I know that because she told me so, and because every day since that evening she’s been by my side.

  Though, with victory mine, it was only later she discovered that it was pretty much the only meal I could pull off.

  So this Money Meal is about teaching your kids (mainly your teens) to shop for, and cook, at least two low-cost, delicious, nutritious meals from scratch.

  Yet I know what you’re thinking.

  Here’s you: Mate, you don’t know anything about cooking.

  Here’s me: I do not disagree with you.

  Case in point, back when Liz was in her final trimester with our third child.

  You can just picture it: it’s January, so she’s hot, hormonal, cankled and cranky.

  It’s my job to keep the boys amused (and out of trouble) for the day.

  Anyway, driving home after a surprisingly successful daddy day, I overhear the boys whispering to one another.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I ask.

  ‘Mummy buys us ice-cream when we’ve been good,’ says my oldest.

  I’m being played, of course, but it’s a hot day and I feel like ice-cream myself, so we stop at the ice-cream shop.

  ‘How many scoops do you usually have?’ I naively ask my two-year-old.

  ‘Four’, he says, holding up three fingers.

  Hmmm.

  I study the pimply faced teenage ice-cream ‘artist’ for confirmation that this is indeed an acceptable serving size for a toddler. He simply shrugs his shou
lders, heaps four mounds of creamy sugar into a bowl, douses it with thick syrupy chocolate, and pumps hundreds-and-thousands on top for good measure.

  My two-year-old excitedly snatches the bowl out of my hands, while the ice-cream teen racks up another bowl for the five-year-old. After I pay, I notice that my younger one has already inhaled the ice-cream and is wearing his bowl as a hat.

  Five minutes later, the sugar rush is coursing through their veins.

  The two-year-old, now strapped into his car seat, is jerking uncontrollably, screaming a Wiggles song at the top of his lungs.

  As we return home, they turn to each other and start fighting like WWE wrestlers.

  My wife opens the door looking bloated and bothered, clutching her tummy like she’s attempting to stop the baby from dropping.

  She takes one look at the boys and then glares at me.

  Then the five-year-old dobs me in: ‘Daddy let us have four scoops of ice-cream!’

  And then vomits on the carpet.

  ‘You’re supposed to be the adult! The parent! The one in control!’ she thunders.

  All very good points.

  And that is also why I have outsourced the actual cooking part of this chapter to a woman who would never (intentionally) let her kids overdose on sugar: my mum.

  I’ll also be adding my own recipe to the mix—the one that won over Liz on our first date.

  RECIPES

  Scott’s Famous Pasta

  Serves 4

  frozen home-brand garlic bread in tin foil (banned in my house since Liz and I got married)

  250 g of free-range chicken breast, diced

  1 tub of pesto sauce (for flavour)

  4 decent-sized mushrooms (I like mushrooms)

  1 spring onion, chopped (for colour)

  1 tub of semi-dried tomatoes (a throwback to my deli boy days)

  1 tub of olives (and again)

  half a packet of dried pasta (the spaghetti you’ve had in the cupboard since 1992 is perfect)

  Parmesan cheese (cheese is the ultimate garnish; however, Liz now limits my intake)

  Method

  Fill a large pot with water and put it on the stove. Turn the oven on and throw in the frozen garlic bread.

  Cut the chicken into pieces the size of half your little finger (careful!). Then toss the chicken into a frying pan with a little olive oil, and cook until brown. Add the pesto sauce.

  Cut the mushrooms into chunks and throw them into the frying pan. Same with the spring onion, semi-dried tomatoes and olives.

  Shoot! You’re so busy prancing around like Matt Preston you forgot the pot of boiling water, didn’t you, you drongo! So turn the stove down, clean up the mess and then add the pasta. After 5 minutes, scoop a bit of the pasta from the pot. When it’s done say something pompous, like ‘al dente’.

  Strain the pasta, add it to the stuff in the frying pan, and mix it around a bit. Serve with plenty of parmesan.

  (Three hours later your smoke alarm will remind you that you still have garlic bread in the oven.)

  A little help from Mum

  with Joan Pape

  Hi everyone,

  When Scott was growing up he actually did do a bit of cooking, but only when it suited him, of course. But I did manage to teach him how to make a few basic meals.

  And when he left home, he continued cooking. I remember when he was first working at the Stock Exchange in Sydney, he cooked us a wonderful meal when we came to visit (from memory it was spaghetti bolognaise).

  Now Scott has asked me to come up with some very easy meals that your kids can cook themselves.

  I hope they like them!

  Joan’s Veggie Slice

  This is a great recipe for kids to cook. You can use any veggies you like: try chopped broccoli or grated sweet potato, and add some parsley or other herbs.

  Serves 4–6 Preparation time: 20 minutes Cooking time: 30 minutes You’ll need a 25-centimetre square tin

  1 small onion

  1 medium carrot (about ½ cup, grated)

  450 g zucchini (about 3 cups, grated)

  3 tablespoons grated tasty cheese

  3 eggs

  ½ cup vegetable oil

  1 cup self-raising flour

  salt and pepper, to taste

  Step 1: Get ready

  Preheat the oven to 180 degrees.

  Lightly grease the tin with a little bit of butter and line it with baking paper.

  Step 2: Chop and grate

  Finely chop the onion. Grate the carrot and zucchini. Grate the cheese.

  Step 3: Mix

  In a bowl, beat together eggs and oil until thick and creamy. Use a whisk or hand beaters. Add the onion, carrot, zucchini and cheese. Sift the flour over the top. Mix well together.

  Step 4: Bake

  Place mixture in the lined tin and bake in the oven for 25–30 minutes. It needs to be lightly browned.

  Step 5: Serve

  Serve this hot or cold with veggies or a salad. If you’re serving it hot, let it sit for about 10 minutes, then cut into squares.

  Barefoot Burgers

  Back in my day we called burgers ‘rissoles’. No matter what you call them, my kids (and grandkids) love these, and yours will too. (Scott is very cheeky but there are no fat drippings in this recipe—it’s been updated over the years. And there were no dill pickles back in Ouyen.)

  Serves 4 Preparation time: 20 minutes (plus optional 30 minutes chilling time) Cooking time: 20 minutes

  600 g beef mince

  1 onion, grated

  1 egg, beaten

  ½ cup (35 g) fresh or ¼ cup (15 g) dried breadcrumbs

  ⅓ cup (25 g) grated parmesan cheese (optional)

  1 teaspoon Dijon mustard (optional)

  salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

  1 tablespoon olive oil

  4 slices Swiss cheese

  1 onion, extra, thinly sliced

  4 soft burger buns (choose wholegrain buns for a healthier option)

  mayonnaise, sliced dill pickles, shredded lettuce and thinly sliced tomato, to serve

  Step 1: Make the burgers

  Put the beef mince, onion, egg, breadcrumbs, parmesan and mustard in a bowl. Add salt and pepper to taste. Wet your hands (so they won’t stick) and make the mixture into four burgers.

  If you chill them in the fridge for 30 minutes, they’ll hold together better. You could use this time to get the table ready.

  Step 2: Cook the burgers

  Heat the oil in a heavy-based frying pan over medium-high heat. When hot, add the burgers and flatten them slightly. Fry them for 8–10 minutes (turning occasionally) until well crusted and browned.

  Put a slice of Swiss cheese on top of each burger and cook for 1 minute until the cheese starts to melt. Transfer the burgers to a plate and cover with foil to keep warm.

  Step 3: Cook the onions

  Add the sliced onion to the pan and cook for 4–5 minutes (stirring occasionally) until tender and brown. Put them in a bowl and cover with foil to keep warm.

  Step 4: Prepare the buns

  Turn on the griller. Slice the buns in half. Lightly toast the cut side of the buns in the griller.

  Step 5: Serve and eat!

  Spread mayonnaise on the toasted side of each burger bun. On each of the four bottom buns, put some pickle, then the burger, lettuce, tomato and onions. Close the buns and serve immediately.

  Alternatively, lay the ingredients out on a platter and let the family assemble their own burgers.

  * * *

  NOTES

  •Feel free to make this recipe your own—add whatever takes your fancy, like a fried egg or crispy bacon, and don’t forget the sliced beetroot. And the tomato sauce. (Scott adds sauce to everything.)

  •This recipe is great for leftovers. You could ditch the buns and serve the burgers with steamed veggies or salad—cauliflower, broccoli, carrot, green beans, baby spinach, rocket . . .

  •Form the meat mixture into meatballs and
cook in the frying pan before adding a jar of tomato pasta sauce or a can of chopped tomatoes. Warm through and serve with spaghetti and top with grated parmesan.

  •Burgers freeze really well. Make up the full batch (or double it), wrap well with plastic wrap and store in the freezer for up to 2 months.

  If you can’t handle the heat . . .

  So, which signature dish should your kid choose?

  Well, I’d suggest that you start off with one of Mum’s recipes and then move on to ‘Scott’s Famous Pasta’. Or just get your kids to choose their own!

  Whatever they choose, though, get them to make it theirs by coming up with their own name for it—like ‘Pete’s Passionate Pasta’ or ‘Fiona’s Famous Fry-up’.

  (Okay, so if your kids are young, you might be on dinner duties for a few more years. This step of the Barefoot Ten is really aimed at tweens and especially teens. That’s not to say that little kids should be excluded, but maybe their meal is a breakfast rather than a sit-down meal.) Understand that you’re creating family memories here. And not only will you get a night off the cooking, your kids will be able to fend for themselves when they move out!

  The point of this chapter is not just to get a break from cooking now and then, or to get your kids to eat better meals, or to give them a dating advantage (though those things are important enough).

  The real lesson is that being able to cook for yourself is a bloody smart financial decision compared to blowing the same amount on eating out (or ordering in) just once.

  Think of it this way: when I was at uni, there was always that guy.

  On a Tuesday—when Austudy hit—he’d be living like a king, eating steaks and downing beers.

  Wednesday night, two-minute noodles.

  Thursday night, two-minute noodles.

  Friday night . . . you get the point.

  So next up, you’re going to get your kids to put their new signature dish into action . . . by hosting a dinner party.