User:Diamondskies83/be bold

A time when I learned to like something
When I was a young girl, I had as strong dislike of many vegetables, most notably, asparagus. I despised asparagus. My father had always talked about how he hated asparagus, and the little girl in me that looked up to her Daddy, never gave asparagus a chance. Those nasty green spears would show up on my dinner plate, and I would look at them with disgust. My mouth would lock shut, and there was just no way I was even going to give them a taste. There were plenty of vegetable that I liked, corn, peas and Lima beans for example, but oh asparagus, how I hated that vegetable. If my Daddy wasn't going to eat it, I certainly wasn't. After all, he was experienced with life, and the vegetables in it, and I could absolutely trust him.

As I grew older, and eventually moved away from home, I learned, as we all do eventually, that independence comes with a price: having to feed yourself. Meal planning was not something that came naturally to me, but I knew there were supposed to be certain things in each meal. A balanced meal requires protein, grains, dairy and vegetables. For so many years I avoided certain ones, asparagus was at the top of the list of "Vegetables to be avoided at all costs".

Eventually I married and amazing man, one that could cook! He suggested one night that we have asparagus with the meal he was making. He laughed at the look of disgust that washed over my face at the mere mention of the ever avoided asparagus. As so many do when we suggest we don't like a food or beverage, he remarked that perhaps I had never had it cooked well. I had to be honest, I told him I had not ever had it cooked right, I knew for a fact because I had never had it. I always refused to even try it. Love can make us do crazy things, and so it was in this case. He convinced me it would be okay, that it wouldn't hurt to give asparagus a try, just a taste. So he went to work. Some dicing off ends, a bit of olive oil, garlic powder and salt, and to finish it off, a sprinkle of Parmesan cheese. It smelled alright, it didn't even look so bad. Finally the time came, and cautiously, I raised the asparagus spear to my mouth. I held on to the expectation that there was bound to be something hideous about this dreaded veggie. It was delicious! I chewed, I swallowed, I waited for some sort of aftertaste to prove that my father was justified in his hatred of asparagus, a hatred I had firmly latched onto as a child. None ever came. I found I loved asparagus, so much in fact that I now request it on occasion. I have tried to cook it myself several times, leading to utter disappointment, so my husband is in charge of asparagus in our house.