29 September 2007


Earlier this evening, I attempted to make fried rice.  Well, it came out just fine, with the exception of the added vegetables.  sigh.  Against my better judgment, I added canned peas, corn, and carrots as I didn't have the frozen veg-mix on hand.  Now it is debatable just how long I've had the cans in the cupboard since I don't like and/or use canned veggies.  Except this time.  Yeah, there is ALWAYS an exception to prove the friggen rule.

I don't like english peas, or some call them sweet peas, or green peas, or just plain ol peas.  I thought of the lil green boogers as "peas" until I moved to the south.  Here in the south, there are many other sorts of stuffs called peas too, like field peas, black-eyed peas, crowder peas, etc.  Those peas, I like.  Usually.

Anyway, I shouldn't have added the peas, not even a pod of peas, let alone half a can of peas.  Cuz it totally ruined a perfectly palatable dish.  And my guy and I snickered because I told him that was a grand way for me to get him to order out pizza.  Add peas to the menu and neither of us will eat it.  I didn't know he didn't like peas, and that's most likely cuz I don't cook with peas.  Usually.

All that brought to mind the p-sludge incident.  When I was a kid, my mother allowed us to serve ourselves.  And whatever you took, you ate.  No problem, I just didn't take any peas.  Yes problem cuz if mom saw that you didn't take something, she'd scoop a big ol heaping spoon of it on your plate (she said that she thought you forgot.  yeah, right, mom).

There was a no-argue clause that came with my contract to be a child.  So I thought I had a fool-proof plan to take care of the pea-problem mom had served me.  Now for some reason, I didn't realize that chewing peas kept the taste and prolonged the pea-experience.  Why I didn't realize that you could just shovel em in, gulp em down unchewed is beyond me.

So what did I do?  I would take a huge mouthful of peas, chew em, smoosh em up, and then spit them into my glass of milk when I "took a drink".  Often I would gag as I did this so I am sure it was not a smooth transition of peas in the mouth to peas in the milk.

Mom was smarter than myself, even then.  She figured out why there was a mass of pea sludge in the dishwater after dinner.  Can't fool the mom.  Remember that kids.

So one fine dinner day, mom gave me water instead of the usual milk.  But I was a mere child and failed to notice that.  So I plowed my way through an unusually large mountain of peas, with my standard mode of operations.  It had not failed me before, or so I thought.

There I sat, merrily mooshing peas into my water glass than usually held the hidden powers of milk.  And when dinner was over, mom pointed out that I was not finished.  With my peas, as the glass was half-filled with pea-sludge.  She suggested I drink it down.  In mom-speak, "suggest" means DO IT.

I discovered that cold pea-sludge is far worse than peas.  Canned or not.  Ironically, there are times when I crave pea-soup.  Shudder.


  1. I hate peas and I hate milk....so I would have heaved had I been forced to drink that!  YUCK!!


  2. OH yeah. I had a mom who insisted that everyone try a tablespoon full of whatever.  I preferred to serve my own tablespoon full.  Yuck.  

  3. When I was a kid my dread was Mashed Potatoes. My grandmother used to make us sit for hours until we cleaned up our plates. In some incidents if you didn't eat every thing on your plate within an alotted time. She ended up serving that same plate to you for Breakfast. I soon learned it paid off to just get it over with. (Hugs) Indigo


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