When I was a kid, I remember my dad would eat anything. If there was something no one else would eat, he'd eat it. If there was a variety of things available, and if someone asked him which one he wanted, he would say, "Just give me the one that no one else wants." There were also some specific things I remember that he liked, that I thought were either weird or gross. Specifically, if he would eat an apple, he would do it with a salt shaker and shake a little bit of salt on the apple before taking a bite. I've never tried it, so I guess I shouldn't knock it, but it seems gross. He also was always (along with my Grandpa Hall) interested in eating gizzards (like they two of them would specifically order a bucket of them from KFC and chow down together!), pickled pig's feet, and cow's tongue. That's right. I'm pretty sure those don't even count as foods. At that point, they're just random animal parts that aren't meant for human consumption. He would eat anything. It's like that old phrase "Human garbage disposal". If there was some toast that one of the rest of us accidentally burned, instead of letting us throw it away, he would volunteer to eat it. "It's perfectly good toast!", he would say. He was seemingly omnivorous, and I always kind of admired that about him. But... there was one exception. One very notable exception. Even a man who would happily eat a cow's tongue or a pig's foot apparently has his limits. And that limit was Brussels sprouts. It's literally the only thing I know of that he will not eat. Now, perhaps there are more, or maybe he's developed a more refined palate in later years, but for the rest of my life, whenever I think of Brussels sprouts, I'll think of them as the one thing my dad won't eat.
Because of that, we didn't have them growing up. So the first time I had them in my life was when Meghan made them for us. I was not a fan. She's made them a couple more times since then, and they're just not good. Some people say they're good if you make them with maple syrup and bacon or massive amounts of cheese, but I'm not sure that counts, because you're just overriding the grossness with enough goodness that you can't taste the grossness anymore. But recently Meghan found a new recipe that she wanted to try. I'm trying to cook at least on rare occasions, and tonight happened to be one of those times. So I made them, but I'm not taking credit, because all I did was not mess up the recipe. But they were good! It's a relatively light recipe, which is good, but that's why it's all the more surprising that it was tasty. So we now have a go-to recipe for Brussels sprouts. But like Reading Rainbow, you don't have to take my word for it (although Meghan also really liked them and would vouch for them). You can take the word of a super-picky two-year-old. Little Hannah, who's approved food list isn't much more than chicken nuggets and ice cream, approved of them. And as proof, here's a picture of Hannah eating an entire sprout, asking for another bite after each one she eats. I'm not sure I'd go so far as to say my dad would like them, because I'm not sure how extreme his distaste of them is, but they are definitely now an acceptable vegetable in our family, so long as they're prepared the way we had them tonight.
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