Stinging Nettles

Maybe I shouldn't have put the greens with stinging nettles in the blue bowl. They would have looked better in the orange. Or left in the pan. Maybe I should have tried to fluff them.

They made everything clump together. Until then the kale and chards with carmelized onions looked great. Edible. They were greener than hundred dollar bills. I could distinguish one green from the other.

After the nettles, they clumped. One big wad. I cut it up and combed it with a fork. Then I had a lot of little wads. That stuck together.

The cute guy looked in the bowl. "What is it?"

"Greens." I said it with confidence. "Yummmmm. The carmelized onoins are so sweet." I took another bite. "And the greens are..."

He took a little from the serving bowl, surveyed it on his fork, eyed me with distrust. "Don't laugh," I told him. He nibbled a stem. "Just try it. You'll like it." He took a bigger taste.

"Oh yeah." That's great," he said. "What's that over there," he yelled. I turned my head.

"Where?" I turned back to see his fork retreating from the bowl. Empty.

It looks like I'll be eating clumpy local greens for the next couple of days. Damn ugly but they don't taste bad.


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