Ode to Brussels Sprouts

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???