Ah yes. Dub Be Good To Me. Thank you former Housemartin Mr Zoe Ball.
It didn't seem that sunny yesterday, but today at work those of us who had taken part in the dragon boat race could be identified by the deep red colour of our skin. It's been itching all day. This is the reason I almost never wear shorts (apart from the obvious effect revealing my gorgeous pins has on anybody) - the back of my legs have been itching all day. Arrgh!
Anyhoo, that got me to thinking - I haven't had beetroot in ages. I couldn't actually tell you what it tastes like now. I wonder if I would like it? I can't recall if I liked it when I was younger, but I'm always surprised by how your tastes change over the years. Half the battle seems to be psychological - Seuss was on to something with that Green Eggs and Ham lark. No wonder he got to be a doctor. (Haven't decided whether the cartoon that link takes you to is cheesily amusing or soul destroying. But it was either that or Barack Obama reading it so this is what you get).
I couldn't tell you when it was but I still recall the occasion of my discovering that sandwich pickle, rather than being the hideous brown atrocity it appears to be was actually pretty darn tasty on a cheese butty (although you can't top an unadorned cheshire cheese sandwich. On crusty white bread when the cheese is nice and tangy. I love that. But that's not what he said. He distinctly said 'To blave' and as we all know, to blave means to bluff, heh? So you were probably playing cards, and he cheated -). I was on a Class 158 unit on the Hope Valley line between Manchester and Sheffield and I was absolutely starving. There was a trolley on board and the least offensive sandwich available was the cheese and pickle number. I bought it thinking it would be some survivalist endurance test, forced down out of necessity. Ah, heck, I've already given away the ending. I've really got to work on my plot structure. Yes, we already know that it was a lot nicer than I was expecting. That's not the point. The point is... what in the world can that be! (points over reader's shoulder (two Princess Bride references in one paragraph. Surely that redeems that anecdote? No? Oh, please yourselves)).
Nostalgia sometimes gets the better of you. I revisited this scenario recently while picnicking on Tower Hill during my erstwhile wife's conquest of the London Marathon. I was in charge of the offspring and come feeding time the only sandwich I could find that came near to no1 son's very specific dietary preferences was filled (I say 'filled'. This was a London butty shop - the filling to bread ratio was heavily weighted in favour of the bread) with cheese and pickle. 'You'll be surprised how delicious it is,' I told him, warmly recalling my own Branstonian Epiphany. He then proceeded to take about an hour and a half to consume just one sandwich all the while making gagging and retching noises. He's a man of principle - I admire that.
My last encounter with beetroot, however, was during a big family dinner at a posh restaurant in Manchester. The vegetarian option (remember: meat is murder, kids) was a beetroot risotto. I didn't even have the opportunity to fill up on bread. This being a big family get-together and me now apparently being a grown up I duly ordered without complaint and was rewarded with something that looked like a small pink brain with some garnish.
(That's another thing. I can't see the point of cookery. If it takes longer to make than it does to eat, what's the point? Haven't you people heard of tins? Of microwave ready meals? Except...) I very gingerly put a forkful in my mouth.
Guess what? (you won't have seen this coming) - it tasted amazing.
I suppose that's really the exact same story just told twice, isn't it? Three times if you include Green Eggs and Ham. I think we've all learned something here.
Tomato and cucumber are still evil, though. Never trust fruit trying to pass itself off as veg.
More soonliest.
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