The truth about me and green beans.
By, Whitney Zufelt
You see them on most every dinner table come the Holidays. You know... the green bean casserole that mom/grandma/Aunt Judy made. Perhaps its toped with the magical fairy dust of culinary arts (aka bacon). Or maybe there is something crunchy and delicious on top like french fried onions. I'm sorry my friends, but I just can't stand green beans. Honest and truly I think they taste like warm grassy feet (not that I have ever tasted anything of the sort. It's just what I would imagine warm grassy feet to taste like). I just can't bring myself to like them no matter what anyone does to them. Even fresh ones can't break the spell. I suppose this hatred dates back to somewhere in the 1990s when my mom would make green beans and would make me sit at the dinner table until all my green beans were gone (sorry for telling on you mom). I literally sat there for hours until she told me that I only had to eat as many green beans as I was years old (the older I got the harder this was). I ended up taking them as a "pill". Yep, I pinched my nose and basically swollowed them whole with my milk. I guess my mom thought that my tastes would change as I got older (I no longer wear high heeled tennis shoes thank goodness) but my feelings about green beans have remained the same. I do not like them and there isn't anything anyone can do to change my mind. Because if bacon can't fix it, nothing is going to fix it.
And that's the truth about me and green beans.