My name is Keith and I need to confess something: I really don't care for sprouts.
I know that the raw food restaurant down the street, Grass Roots, is printing up a most wanted poster with my face on it as I type. (As an aside, how LUCKY are we in Tampa to have such a place, especially in such an economically challenged neighborhood!) But there's just something about sprouts that evokes this feeling: MEH!
I think my first experience with sprouts was at a vegetarian-friendly restaurant my parents would bring me to when I was very young. It was called "East India" and it was in the really ritzy part of Orlando, Winter Park. East India had all sorts of great veggie meals and my parents would invariably order me something drenched in alfalfa sprouts. It was like pulling aside a mohair veil from your food, one that you'd have to eat eventually if you wanted some of East India's awesome homemade ice cream.
Throughout my high school years, my mom and dad homeschooled me. During this time, my mom rediscovered her love for vegetarian, vegan, raw, and macrobiotic cooking. She also discovered her love for sprouting. If it could be sprouted, I think we ate it, sprinkled in salads, put on tacos, cooked into innumerable dishes.
It was like some Nightmare on Elm Street sequel, every time I thought the sprouts had gone away to their grave, they'd reemerge to taunt me.
Now that I'm 30, I'm past my finicky stage of eating and I can actually appreciate the crisp, watery, nutrient-filled bite of every type of sprout -- and, really, what is phad thai without an inordinate amount of mung bean sprouts? But, still, I have to sit back in wonder at the fervor of sprouters across the globe. Even Lance, my love, more often than not, has a jar sitting on an upside-down angle in the kitchen, filled with little culinary contrarians to grace my every bowl of chili, scrambled tofu, curry, and so on and so on.
Even when I'm out, they show up. I don't think anything can be labeled "Californian" without a sad little avocado slice and half a pound of sprouts on top. Just like my tempeh hoagie friend up there from Mellow Mushroom (hold the pesto mayo!).
Sprouts are the cousins that will never leave after Christmas. I am destined to share my life with them...I better get used to it!
4 comments:
Sprouts freak me out too. I think it's because they have that weird, powdery/gritty texture. It's a bummer, because they are totally little nutrient powerhouses.
I'm not a fan of sprouts, either. I always think about the potential bacteria they carry from restaurants not washing them well enough.
...that, and they taste like dirt. Yeah.
I like most sprouts but my guy doesn't care for them much. I sneak them in from time to time.
I love sprouts, always have. Andy hates them, though he can eat the mung bean sprouts when they have been cooked.
Post a Comment