Brussel Sprouts and Cauliflower

I hate brussel sprouts. By no means am I a hater of vegetables, but some vegetables should be banished and brussel sprouts are one of those vegetables. Tim insists that he makes the best brussel sprouts in the world. I contend that there is nothing anyone can do to brussel sprouts to make them taste good. The taste like used underpants that have been festering behind the washing machine, waylaid by some horrible laundry accident that involved exploding sweatsox and an old banana peel someone left in a jacket pocket. They are just plain nasty and nothing could possibly make them edible...nothing.

Cauliflower is another vegetable that should never be presented at the table, particularly boiled cauliflower. Let me relay a tale to you. One Thanksgiving dinner, gathered round the table with family and friends, a large silver pot was place in front of me. I was thinking, "mmmmm a huge pot of gravy and I'm first in line...woohoo!" When I lifted the lid the hot steam rising from the pot struck my face and in a flash my gag reflex kicked in. Oh dear...that's not gravy, is a human brain. But it wasn't brains in that pot. It was a whole, boiled, squishy, grey cauliflower head, covered in yellowish cheese sauce. "It's got cheese all over it, can't be that bad. Cheese makes everything better," I thought. Boy was I wrong. I took a large metal spoon and carved a hunk of slimy, hot, slippery boiled cauliflower from it's brain-like form and "SPLAT" dropped it on my plate.

Boy was that a big mistake. I could smell the offensive vegetable in detail, it's caustic aroma burning my nostrils, sickeningly sweetened by the gloppy cheese sauce liberally poured all over. And then I made the biggest mistake I've ever made in front of so many people. I scooped a big spoonful and slid it between my lips.

My taste buds flinched, and I felt my tongue beginning to swell in the back of my mouth. My tonsils screamed in offense, trying to prevent the swollen tongue from pushing the slimy vomit flavored mush from going what it thought was the wrong way toward my stomach. My throat contracted, refusing to admit the offal into the second part of my digestive system. And my stomach laughed at me, "I'm not letting that stuff down here, no way, no how."

I thrust my tongue to my palette, forcing what felt like a large slug past the screaming tonsils. No way I was going to introduce my teeth into this fracas. And the chunk flew down my insides, leaving a trail of misery and stench all the way down. It splash landed in the ocean of acids like a space capsule and the convulsion of muscles reminded me of my childhood bouts with strep throat and tummy troubles. I know I turned green. I know my appetite was shot. Not even a heaping forkful of turkey, gravy and mashed potatoes could calm this hurricane of disgust. And I am scarred for life. I will never, ever, as long as I am able to feed myself, eat another bite of boiled, cheese drizzled, slimy cauliflower again. Ever. Period. I feel sick just writing about it. I leave you with a look of disgust. Guess I'm not eating dinner tonight. I don't much feel like eating now.

-Jeff