As a child, I was a fairly "fussy" eater. I disliked the usual things kids dislike: okra, beets, spinach, and so on. I had a few atypical dislikes. I didn't like ham for the longest time. Once, my father used a de-icer on our car windshield with me inside. The sickly sweet smell reminded me of cherries, and for the longest time, they were on my off list.
Over the years as my palate matured, my list of food rejections grew smaller and smaller. Once I married Cat, it is practically a null category. One of the longest on the list and the latest to go is greens. Just the sight and smell of greens were enough to kill my heartiest appetite at one time. The smell was only part of the problem. Greens don't look good to me. (I am speaking of the food not the family, of course.) They look limp and soggy. Well, they are limp and soggy. That's seldom and appealing quality in food.
Cat, on the other hand, loves greens. She takes any opportunity to fix them. They were featured on our Thanksgiving table this last holiday. I gave in and tried them, and found to my considerable surprise that I liked them. I think this is attributable to a couple of things. First, Cat is a great cook. That's one of the many benefits I have gained from being married to her. I find it delightful to be in a relationship with a partner who calls our local restaurant supply outlet her "Toy Store."
As good as that is, I think that one must not overlook the power that being in love has to favor any dish. The fact that she wants to try new things for me makes me want to give what she prepares fair trial, perhaps even more than a fair trial. I am rather prejudiced in her favor. She has yet to disappoint me.
So, I feel that I can adapt the old Tin Pan Alley Song and say:
She likes Turnip Greens.
I never cared for Turnip Greens,
But she likes Turnip Greens,
And that's my weakness now.