To quote a beloved author, “It was the wettest of springs, it was the coldest of springs.” This observation perfectly encapsulates my gardening journey this year. Delaying my planting until the end of June, I envisioned a bountiful fall harvest. Little did I know that my venture into cool-weather crops, particularly broccoli and cauliflower, would lead to an unexpected culinary escapade.
The cauliflower proved satisfactory, yielding small but delicious heads. However, it was the broccoli that stole the show, growing into magnificent three-foot-tall plants adorned with vibrant green florets that seemed almost too good to be true.
My husband, Jerry, exclaimed, “You’ve truly outdone yourself this year! It looks good enough to eat straight off the plant.” Little did we know how prophetic those words would be.
After harvesting my first batch of broccoli, I diligently cleaned the vegetables, well aware of the green worms that often lurk within the intricate stalks. Despite my efforts—rinsing, soaking in saltwater, and thorough sprayer rinses—it turned out that some of these persistent creatures eluded my cleaning prowess.
Proudly serving a dinner featuring organic delights from my garden, the revelation came when Jerry, mid-bite, exclaimed, “Ecchh!” Spitting out a forkful of broccoli, a look of horror crossed his face. “There’s something moving on my plate!”
Investigating, I discovered a green worm wiggling near the broccoli. Despite my thorough cleaning, one resilient critter had survived the steam bath. My husband, a bit garbled from hastily gulping water, confessed, “I think I swallowed at least one of them.”
Discarding my beautiful broccoli down the drain, I marveled at the worm’s tenacity—surviving a steam bath is no small feat!
Subsequent attempts to salvage my broccoli crop proved futile, as the lingering memory of unexpected guests in our dinner was too much to bear. The last batch went to a neighbor, with my husband offering a cryptic recommendation, “It’s delicious. You’ll love it. It has a unique quality that I can’t quite describe.”
While I refrained from sharing the true nature of that “unique quality,” one thing became abundantly clear—my culinary escapade had inadvertently transformed my homegrown bounty into a tale of triumph, tragedy, and the perils of sharing a dinner table with uninvited garden guests. ❖
About the Author: Elizabeth Dreier is a wife, mom, “Mimi,” retired teacher, and lover of gardening. She writes from Poland, Ohio, where she resides with her husband, Jerry, who is not a lover of gardening but who possesses other stellar qualities.
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