He was so brilliant I didn't want to kill him, nor was I going to unleash him in the backyard so I dunked him in the garbage with a first grade, farewell little worm song. Then I chopped off the top of the ear, sliced off the sweet corn, bagged and froze it. Worm 2, Human 8.
The two cookie trays of tomatoes I slow roasted next didn't come with hidden friends but were purchased from an elderly man at the Petaluma farmers market who picked them the night before. He bagged each tomato one at a time as if sorry to see them depart. My heart bent imagining eating them but they smelled of sunshine, each one prettier than the next.
Instead of bagging the tomatoes whole as before, I pureed them skin and all and laid the liquidy bags efficiently flat in the freezer, which spurred the idea to make waterbeds for the girls Barbie dolls.
The last item headed for the freezer was veggie stock, also pureed and laid flat. It started with beet greens, a nosegay of sage, rosemary and thyme from the yard and nettles from my trip last week to Berkeley (thinking only good thoughts as I handled it). Garlic roasted with the tomatoes went in whole with previously abandoned but forgiving ginger and fine pencils of green onions. Carrots, cabbage and summer squash finished the pot.
The cute guy tasted it. "You can add beets if you puree it." He was licking his lips.
"Okay."
"Really, it would be okay."
"Okay."
And then I couldn't resist. "Sweetie?" He innocently turned towards me. "Did you like it?"
"Yeah. It was good." He nodded his head.
"It has beets in it."
"Ack! Ugh. Ahhhh." He spit on his sleeve, wiped his mouth wildly with his arm. "How could you do that to me? I hate beets! You know I hate beets. Agh."
I continued stirring the pot until he was done.
1 day ago
2 comments:
Ugh! You are braver then me. I no longer eat corn fresh. I can't bear to meet the worms. I still scream like a little girl when I meet them in my tomato patch. The first time I met a corn one I screamed and dropped the ear of corn and gagged. I can face them nopw without the hysterics, but I won't eat the corn. I don't care how sweet it is.
One of the local farmers at the market has a little handdrawn sign above the corn that has a picture of a worm and says "one guaranteed in every ear!" :shudder:
Ummm. Now that you mention it, I was brave. Maybe you could teach your kids to get rid of the worms for you and then you would never have to know about them! Thanks for the story.
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