Tag Archives: cauliflower

1932. Abhorrence for brassicas

Vernon had an abhorrence for any form of brassica, be it cabbage, cauliflower, Brussels spout, broccoli, or whatever. Cole slaw was particularly detestable. It was a difficult situation, because if a possible host enquired about “What do you and don’t you like?” Vernon would say that he would eat any and everything. If he said he had a detestation of brassicas he would have left the host in a quandary of having to choose a side dish from a rather more limited list of options.

Don’t get me wrong. If Vernon was invited to dine and the host served, say, sauerkraut, he’d eat it. Why a host would be serving sauerkraut to guests is beyond comprehension. But you get the drift… Vernon did not like brassicas, and he would stop the car after dining out on brassicas and spew.

Vernon’s wife, Wendy, loved brassicas. In fact, when Vernon went away on a business trip, Wendy would stay at home and pig out on cabbage. As Vernon would say upon his return, “Well, I guess it’s better than smoking.” It was mainly the smell of cabbage cooking that put Vernon off eating cabbage altogether. He would begin with a mild retch and before long he’d be out in the garden leaning over the delphiniums and herbing his guts out.

One day, while Vernon was at work, Wendy (with all the windows and doors wide open to create a draught) cooked up cabbage soup with lots of bacon bones. After removing the bones, she pureed the mixture. The soup was devoured that evening along with some freshly baked buns and a hard-boiled egg. Vernon loved it.

That’s because Wendy called it “Smoked Bacon Soup” and didn’t mention the cabbage. Oh the whimsicalities of likes and dislikes!

1476. Weeds and a cauliflower

It’s happened before and it’ll happen again, believe me, said the proud cauliflower to the surrounding weeds.

The little weed seeds had just begun to germinate in Farmer McGregor’s vegetable garden; right next to the proud cauliflower.

Last time, said the proud cauliflower, Farmer McGregor came along and pulled out all your weedy forebears and threw them over the fence. I alone was left to survey my lovely weedless kingdom. One prickly thistle, two deep-rooted docks, and a dandelion; to say nothing of all the other countless unnamed weeds that had become too familiar with me in my garden. As I say, it’s happened before and it’ll happen again, believe me.

Farmer McGregor is just waiting for you to grow a little bigger and then he will come along, yank you out, and toss you worthless lot over the fence. Unlike you, I’m permanent. It’s not half obvious that I’m the one in charge.

Here comes Farmer McGregor’s wife, Miranda, now. She’s carrying a long knife. Hee hee hee. She sometimes exterminates young weeds with the carving knife. You watch. You’ll see just how right I…