prior to our august vacation to michigan, i had never eaten a radish. Not One. Ever. i’d thought i had expunged myself of all those things i learned from my parents that i probably wouldn’t like … including, but not limited to, grapefruits, cauliflower, artichokes, spinach, pretty much all raw vegetables - and radishes. once i realized during high school that my parents abhorred trying new foods, i set out to try (and like) them all, which i pretty much do - except lima beans and peas, both of which my dad loves and – strangely – B is allergic to so i don’t ever have to eat.
i don’t mean to insult my parents because they didn’t expose me to the joy of spicy freshness that is embodied in a radish – i understand that most americans are content with pre-packaged or fast food. that’s fine. my point with all this is to highlight how completely parents can decide that their children’s world view will be limited – politically, socially, economically, culinary-ily … to think my parents had the ability to keep me away from radishes. it's shocking.
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