Tonight my friends I shall be eating a nice lamb casserole, I’m sure it will be delicious, in fact I expect it to be so. The smells emanating from yonder kitchen are mouth watering.
The thing is, amongst the scent of fresh lamb and the rich aroma of freshly cooked tomatoes, another whiff is wafting so to speak, something that many would find abominable, however, and this is the crux of the story, a new fragrance previously maligned now whets my appetite moreso than the rest. Something has changed, and I like it.
It all started last year, a mere handful of weeks ago. I too was one of the haters. The vegetable of the season was on my blacklist, off limits, proscribed. Indeed; those squishy little green cabbages, the bringers of flatulence and folic acid to millions of care homes around the world were the fruit of the devil in my eyes. Brassica oleracea my dear? Someone would enquire, brassica off I would retort with a wink, an example of my razor sharp wit at its best.
However, and as far out of the blue as you could get, as if destiny herself had recently had an audit and decreed it anew, along came Christmas, the dinner was laid out, and my perceptions were thrown into a tailspin. I tentatively stabbed one of those bitter little green orbs with my festive fork and closing my eyes, took a bite. Instead of the foul weed I had expected, lord of the vegetables is what I found! By golly, I liked it!
So my friends that what I savour, the heady sulphuric odor of the humble Brussels Sprout. To me that little vegetable is now the telltale sign of a great dinner, and if I can change, so can you. Go on, give them another chance, you know it makes sense.
