Thursday, February 5, 2015

Veggie-Tales.

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I have been seduced by Pinterest.

After months of pictures of things you can do with Cauliflower that does not involve elbowing it off your plate and into you brothers lap, I thought, I could do it.

They had cauliflower pizza, bread sticks, casseroles, barbequed, white chocolate breads, nachos, cheese melt sandwiches . . and more.   I was disappointed not to find a candy cauliflower stick like a candy apple only healthier.   All of the recipes  were clearly much better ways to get people to eat cauliflower than the one dimensional effort of parents to programme your feelings.  You know, "Now Aria, hate is not a word we use, is it?  Besides,  you didn't actually HATE cauliflower it is just your imagination.  You think you hate cauliflower but you don't.  Just eat it and you will see."  I would hold out as long as I could, until they followed that effort with the two dimensional one of hand on butt, with great force.  Repeat.  Often.

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I ate my cauliflower, my imagination fully intact, along with my sanity . . . all of us were in agreement ... we hated cauliflower.

They tried to pour goopy cheese sauce on it sometimes.  There was not enough cheese in all of the moon to counteract the cauliflower. 

But I grew up and I had survived so much.  I was going to do it.  I was going to cook with Cauliflower.

Mostly I was doing it because lately, whenever I was out at dinner everyone was talking about their "wheat grass and goji berry" this and "kale and quinoa" that.  We had to talk about lactose and gluten and brag about our intolerances.  Well ... when I say "we" I am taking liberties with the actual meaning of the word in that they were "we-ing" and I was doing my usual "me-ing" . . . while trying to elbow my steak off my plate and into my purse.  Vegans are so judgemental.   Even if you assure them the cow was completely blind and wanted to end its life and you were just trying to make the death meaningful.
Truth is I wanted to talk with the cool kids after years of just sitting at their table.  I thought maybe someone might remember my name then.  Like maybe my own sister?  Even with a name tag she still keeps calling me  "Arielle" or "Karia" or "I'm sorry who are you again?"

Anyway I read and read ... mastered the prep of making the cauliflower stinky "rice" and put it in a jar in the fridge.  I had to keep checking it.  Once you have developed a deep mistrust of a vegetable it is hard to let go.

So I went for jalapeno cheddar muffins.

I made them, no-one died in the process.  They were actually quite good.  Hubby liked them.  I was high fiving myself and my hubby so often he declared anything above the chest as a no-fly zone for hands.  I eventually had to respect his wishes because high fiving a hand that is being hidden down the side of the couch protected by a dude who works out almost daily and is getting cranky does not seem to release the endorphins quite the same way as the real deal.

I had consulted with hubby about doing them in the first place because he has gout and cauliflower is on the list of no-no's.  I thought perhaps not just boiling the stuff, would produce a different result and as he loves veggies, he was game.  Plus ... if you add jalapenos to anything he is pretty much on board to eat it.

He really liked them and he ate 1, 2, 3 and 4. Then night time came and we went to bed.  And then the middle of the night was upon us and he was up moaning with pain, heading off down the hall, banging around the kitchen and taking all his gout medicine. 

Raging, out of control gout. 

THAT fast. 

NOTHING has ever worked that fast.  Everything else takes a day or so.  This was clearly super cauliflower.  He was in so much pain I wondered if death by gout was going to be on his death certificate and I would be sending my regrets that I would not be able to attend the funeral on account of I would be in jail. 

I immediately threw out the rest of the muffins.

To hide the evidence of course.

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And spent 3 days apologizing.  He didn't mind that he almost died as much as the fact I ruined his golf plans.  I am lucky I am still alive to tell you about this.  Now all the other golfers know about it because it is a rule that if a man has to miss golf because of his wife, that misery has to be shared with everyone.  I will never be sitting at the popular table ever again, and not just because I don't make crepe suzettes with cauliflower.  Their husbands have forbidden them to speak my name.  My sister always wins.


I would just like to say that Pinterest should be sued or at least have to post a warning regarding the toxic nature of their pretty pictures.  And cauliflower ... you still suck.  Here at my little table, alone in the corner, we are a "no cauliflower" zone ...


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