The Day of the Living Vegetable Horror

At many points in life, we need to overcome our fears in order to grow as individuals and move on to achieve our goals.  Sometimes, this process is painful and can take months, if not years.  Before some can face their fears, they first need to hit rock bottom—have nothing left to lose—before the pain of facing their fears is not as severe as their everyday baseline of pain.

I was one of those people.  My health in general—and my digestive system in specific—had reached a low point.  I just didn't like vegetables other than potatoes, so I didn't eat them.

One particularly-painful day, I resolved that I would never be a slave to Immodium again.  That very afternoon, I ate my first raw carrot.  It was delicious in taste and satisfying in texture; sweet, flavorful and crunchy.  I was a new man.

From there, I branched out to green beans, jicama and broccoli.  Peas and corn were next.  Then, the wonders of succotash; even lima beans, though not technically vegetables, crossed my lips to wide acclaim from all stakeholders from my tongue to my colon.  Then, the more-exotic cauliflower, eggplant, cucumber (actually a fruit, but who knew?) cabbage and a wide array of lettuces.

My taste buds were in heaven.  My duodenum had never known such joy.  General sad pains in my abdomen were replaced with general happy rumblings and no one was more-pleased than I.

But, the final challenge still awaited.  I knew that I could not refer to myself as a true vegetable lover until the ultimate vegetable contender had been tasted, chewed, swallowed and enjoyed.  I of course am referring to The Brussels Sprout.  No other vegetable has such negative power over the human soul.  My theory is that it evolved to taste like refuse and look like a decayed animal body part so that we humans would find it too improbable to eat.  Yet, many had done so with great passion.  Who was I to question their success?  But, unlike the other vegetables I had tried, the appearance of Brussels Sprouts was so off-putting that I could not bring myself to indulge.

I mentioned earlier that fear often holds us back.  In my fight against fear, I had often enlisted education as the main weapon in my arsenal.  The Battle of the Brussels Sprout would be no exception.  I decided to research their history, taxonomy and cultivation in an effort to warm my heart to their charms.

What I discovered was so horrifying, so unexpected, so wrong that I nearly lost faith in the gastronomical arts.  The photo, above, is of a Brussels Sprout plant.  It is clearly not of this world.  No other plant on Earth resembles it and it was clearly the inspiration for "Day of the Triffids."  I could not and would not eat one.

So, now I tell you my woeful story as a defeated man.  Despite the continued success of my other vegetable forays, a Brussels Sprout shall never cross my lips.  And in this one respect, I believe that defeat makes me a better person.