In front of me is a plate. But not just any plate. It’s a square plate. But not just any square plate. It is (presently serving as) a platter. A platter for what, you ask? Oh, you’re… you’re not actually asking, are you? K, fine, I’ll carry on with this conversation myself. On this makeshift platter, there happens to be nothing but the best that the fresh produce section has to offer my ignorant consumer mind.

That is to say, I’m just starting out. I don’t really know any better than to buy and consume the staples my parents tried to raise me on: peppers, celery, broccoli, cauliflower, carrots and tomatoes. The thing is, I pretty much despise the taste of vegetables. I can’t help it. They just straight up do not taste appetizing to me, though I wish they did.

I’m forcing myself to acquire a much belated taste for them. Turns out, though, that my roommates and I have recently procured an abundance of perishable veggie matter from more than just the grocery store. In fact, fair amount of it will likely go bad. That is, unless I get over myself and pound back as much as I can over the course of the next few days.

I have been doing well so far, but I can’t help but notice that I cheat. I use salad dressings and/or salt and butter which, by the way, tends to involve frying (low heat, but still). Also, when I am eating them raw, I have to cut their flavor with something, usually cheese (in this case, Havarti. I splurged a little).

In discussing it with my girlfriend, it turns out that we have very, very different levels of fondness in our special taste bud areas for vegetables, mainly due to the fact that she is completely warped and demented in her love for raw and unadulterated greens and such, and that I am a perfectly sensible human being who knows when some things are just plain gross.

Or, more likely, this is my blog, so I can get away with passing along as much biased information as I damn well please and conveniently ignore the the fact that she’s awesome and I’m probably just jealous. Maybe. Anyways, I’d like to reach a point where veggies are like Buckley’s to me. Tastes awful, but they work/are good for me. You’d think, based on what I’ve been saying up to this point that that’s already where I’m at in terms of my relationship with the disgusting-tasting goodness, but not so. Here’s a weird fact about me: I actually like the taste of Buckley’s. I mean, yeah, I think it’s strong af, but it’s not actually awful to me. I kinda dig it.

I want that to eventually be my attitude with vegetables. In addition to that, I’m also hoping that a day may soon come where I gleefully look forward perusing through the produce isles and trying out loads (/reasonable amounts) of new gross flavours each and every week. Wouldn’t that be great.