Here’s a phrase I’d never thought I’d write: “Man, I could sure go for some brussels sprouts right now.”
I never had brussels sprouts growing up. They were as exotic and mysterious to me as so many other staples of the average American household –casseroles, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, meals eaten without rice… all so baffling and alien. Naturally, I made it my mission to expand my horizons by seeking out these foods. Soon, casseroles were just a potluck away, PB&Js were the perfect dorm-room snack, and, hey, of course burgers and fries are a meal, it’s right there in the name: Happy Meal. Yet, brussels sprouts never made it on my menu.
So it was for some 35 years until, last winter, Ben and I were walking through Whole Foods and I saw them: brussels sprouts still on their stalks. They looked exactly like the sleigh bells one might have to play were she stuck doing auxiliary percussion during marching season in high school band. [Not that I would know that. How would I know that?]