January 21, 2003

Ode to a Sprout

My fragmented friend Fred opened a floodgate of memories tonight with this posting. A writing assignment:

Is there a food or dish that you detested as a child that you like as an adult? Can you pinpoint the moment when you gave that food a second chance? How, in general, has your sense of taste changed? Think about the kinds of words that we use to describe taste -- sweet, sour, tangy, spicy.

My contribution:

Brussel Spouts.

Tried to hide them under the mashed potatoes...but it just ruined the potatoes. Dropped them into my milk glass...but that fouled the milk. Slid them down my sleeves, tucked them into the cuffs of my jeans (Yes Virginia, we cuffed our jeans back in ought-six)pushed them between the cracks in the seat cushions. Nothing fooled my Gran. It all came out in the wash.

Peppy, my faithful cocker, sensible creature that he was, refused to participate in the charade. Oh, he could be bought off, but not with sprouts. Liver was his vice.

I was stuck...hung out to dry with the Sproutage.

"Eat your sprouts, don't fiddle with your food." Gran said.

"But I don't like them" I whined, sliding my elbow to splay myself across the table looking utterly pathetic...projecting my best shot:How can I be expected to eat Brussel sprouts when you can see I am in such mental anguish!

"Sit up, don't whine, eat your sprouts, they are good for you. Some day you will thank me for making you eat vegetables." She replied as she tidied up the kitchen. Then she played her ace-in-the-hole: "You will not be excused from the table until your plate is clean."

EGADS! that meant no TV...soon I would miss my alloted half hour of TV time. NO!

I squenched up my eyes (ever notice how things appear less theatening when seen through slitted eyelids)... stabbing the loathsome globules with a fork. There! Take that! Sprout of Brussels!! I stuffed them into my cheeks, washed them down with a river of milk, still they came...sprout after sprout..a neverending green army of sprouts marching across my plate. (I was very taken with the Sorcerer's Apprentice at the time)

I gagged. I turned. I twisted. I capitulated, throwing myself on her mercy. "Please Gran, I can't, they taste awful...I'll do extra chores, eat two slices of liver next time...Oh Pahleeeze!"

"E-yeah...suppose they aren't so tasty when you let them get cold. Maybe next time we won't have so much drama and they will be eaten when they are served. Eat. Your. Sprouts." She was unbending.

Gah! I ate them...all. I did not watch TV. I was sent to bed for being a pill.

I don't know exactly when the conversion occurred...perhaps we aren't meant to recall certain events too clearly. I adore Brussel sprouts. I revel in Brussel Sprouts. I would sing the praises of a well steamed Brussel sprout, glistening with sweet cream butter and a grind of black pepper...if I could carry a tune.

Oh, yeah.

Thanks Gran.

Posted by feste at January 21, 2003 07:51 PM

"I revel in Brussel Sprouts."

Me, too. And I buy the King Size

bottle of BEANO at WalMart.




Posted by: jaspar at January 21, 2003 08:37 PM

Oh I'm glad you posted this. If you didn't, I was gonna. Do more like this. You promised us a few weeks ago, remember? I can get you a permalink if necessary. Don't make me get legal and such.

Brussel sprouts have a similar chemistry to asparagus, about which I am in the middle of writing about. Tune in later today...

Posted by: fredf at January 22, 2003 05:13 AM

I hated the the little bastards!

Hated them with a passion, I tell you!

Spinach, too!

But, now, all is forgiven.

Wassup with that? :-)

Oh, and can you please shrink the size of this comment window thingie, if possible?

You have no idea the contortions I have to go thru to post something. :-)

Posted by: Kiril at January 22, 2003 09:07 AM

Really Kiril if you insist on using a bicycle powered PC there are trade-offs. *G*

I set the font and window size for we old timers...so's it would be easier to read.

Posted by: feste at January 22, 2003 09:33 AM
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