O Brussels Sprouts you taunt me as you sit there on my plate
In all the world you are the food that I do surely hate
You look like tiny cabbages but taste like dirty socks
And if I had the choice I think I'd rather eat some rocks
My mama never cooked you; She hated you like me
But Nana said, "You'll eat those up!" when I was only three
I managed to avoid you through the years til just today
Sitting at my auntie's table til you're cold and slightly gray
My aunt is not impressed, when I gag at just your smell
"Hold your nose!" she scolds me, but that doesn't work too well
It's not just that you stink and have a nasty soggy taste
It's your slimy seaweed texture sticking in my throat like paste
So I've made myself a promise: I will never dish you up
Never boil, bake or steam you; never serve you in a cup
My kids will never eat you, never have to spit you out
You're banned forever from my kitchen
Nasty stinky Brussels Sprouts.
Joining in with MamaKat's Pretty Much World Famous Writers Workshop
Writing Prompt #4: Describe a food you abhor
Brussels Sprouts. The very word makes me shudder.
Oh Brussels Sprouts how I abhor you!
I care not that Brussels Sprouts reduce the risk of breast, prostate, and colon cancers, lower cholesterol and prevent constipation.Give me prunes any day!
I will never forget sitting at my auntie's table, sixteen years old. I was away from my family, on the other side of the world in Canada facing Brussels Sprouts.
Not since the days of enforced silverbeet-and-sprout eating at my Nana's house had I stared down those mini-cabbages.
The smell alone made me want to retch. Don't blame me for gagging. Blame the Brussels Sprouts!
"Oh for goodness sake!! Stop that right now! Hold your nose! You're not leaving til you've finished them," my auntie scolded, unimpressed by my performance.
Blinking back tears I meekly pinched my nose and forced a sprout into my mouth.
The spongy floury texture filled my mouth and stuck in my throat. I couldn't help it when the gagging started again...
Finally my auntie backed down.
"Fine. Leave them. Honestly...!?!?!"
I stumbled away from the table wiping my mouth.
The battle was won. But I lost the war.
(My auntie cut short my year-long-trip and send me home to New Zealand after just three months.
Not just for my Oscar-winning performance at the dinner table. I'm sure there were other reasons...)
But from that day to this no brussels sprout has since passed my lips.
Or crossed the threshold of my home.
Nor. Ever. Shall.
What food do you hate most in all the world???