Saddened to learn that green beans are finally out of season here in newly cold California, I bought some brussels sprouts. At home during dinner prep, my five year old Vi saw me julienning the sprouts for a quick sautee and said: “I hate brussels sprouts.” I asked her why. She said: “because they taste like raw, slimy, worm broccoli.”
Soon after, Desi, in his full-blown 2 year old curiosity demanded a taste of the olive oil I was decanting from a 5 liter can. I told him he could have a taste off a spoon. He demanded a sip from a cup. I obliged. He drank it and then immediately declared: “It’s spicy!” and quaffed a good pint of water from his sippy cup.
Be warned. There are perils to going to the farmer’s market without your family. This weekend I went to the market solo and almost got in trouble at my favorite stall over the celeriac display. A female customer was chatting with the woman working the display about what she might cook with the celery root. Excited by our recent successes with celeriac at home, I suggested that she could make a celeriac puree or a remoulade in the traditional french style with an aioli. Standing next to her was her husband who said: “Hey, you shouldn’t be asking him that stuff. You should be asking me! He said “remoulade” and “aioli” in the same sentence. That’s food flirting!” We all had a good laugh and then avoided each other at the nearby mango display.