You have to add salt, she said.
And butter.
Then it tastes like salt and butter.
I nodded.
But I wasn’t convinced.
It tastes like salt and butter and bitter mash.
We were talking about eating peas.
I am not a fan.
She said she was.
But her “recipe” for preparation sounded more like making a new dish than actually eating peas.
Mash them with a fork, add lots of butter, add lots of salt.
I told her I’d rather mash a potato.
She said I needed to broaden my horizons.
Which was close to true.
But if broadening horizons means making one thing taste like something else, are you really getting a bigger view?
Or just dressing it up with so much familiar that it’s not really all that new?
We ate peas growing up.
They were fresh from a garden, hand picked and hand shelled while sitting on a sofa with Mamaw watching Lawrence Welk, or Dance Fever or The Disney Sunday Night Movie.
They were still bitter when she made them, though hers always had a generous dash of pepper in the salt and butter.
Which tells me something.
I’m not a fan of peas.
I’m okay with it.
I can live with the fact that I won’t choose to eat peas for the rest of my life.
Though I know in reality, the rest of my life will not be pea free.
They get mixed in stir fry, and I eat that a lot.
They get added to some salads, and I eat that too.
In this day and in this age, it is hard to live a pea free existence.
They populate the globe in unexpected places.
It would be no easy feat to avoid a plague of peas.
So better to be prepared for the occasions when it happens.
Since I can’t go around armed with salt, pepper, and butter all the time, I was asking for suggestions.
Hot sauce, she said.
Which burns my tongue and kills my taste buds.
A very worthy substitute, except I wouldn’t be able to taste anything else.
And while food is fuel, it is also a taste sensation.
When done right.
I asked for more suggestions.
Hers was not the answer I wanted.
“I’m craving peas now,” she said. “All this talk has given me a taste for it.”
I didn’t point out that she brought it up, that this was a craving of her own making.
I also didn’t want to experiment with one of the world’s worst foods to find out which additional flavor combination would make me tolerate it better.
So I made a declaration.
I’ll never eat peas on purpose again.
Which got me a smirk, and a trip to the store to buy peas and butter to add to that night’s dinner.
We had salt in the cabinet.
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Hate to tell you but I like peas. Not the mushy canned kind, but the fresh from the garden or frozen kind. Or, better yet, pea pods! Yummy! Just as is.