As much as I love food – the eating of it, the reading about it, the pictures of it – you would think that I would be surrounded by a family of foodies as well. Instead, in what has become my own personal cross to bear, I sit down to each meal with my family and wait for the whining and cajoling to begin. Unless, of course, it's macaroni and cheese or chicken nugget night. Then it's my turn to whine.
Still, I refuse to give up. I have no problem making something that not everyone loves some nights. I am the head chef around here, after all. I try to save the really crazy stuff (like tuna salad – the horror! or pasta with salmon and pesto – what's that green stuff?!) for my own personal lunches, and offer something a little less scary at dinner, like adding some roasted red pepper to a pasta dish or a new sauce to go with the chicken.
Tonight, though, I had the audacity to serve Brussels sprouts at dinner. Oh, I wish you could have seen them. They were in our Farm Fresh bin the other day – perfect little bright green orbs, so cute I could just, well, eat them up! I pan-roasted them and sprinkled them with parmesan and they were fabulous.
We abide by the "Polite Bite" rule around here, so Elena found herself with one little leaf from one teeny Brussels sprout on her plate. She's been around long enough to know there's no getting around it, so she dutifully took her bite. The next thing we know, she's bolting for the bathroom next to the kitchen. And then we hear the retching. One bite of Brussels sprout and she's nearly tossing up the rest of her dinner. When she was done, she calmly walked back to the table and announced:
"I didn't like them."
I'm glad we have that clarified.