If I could only eat one vegetable for the rest of my life
I think it would be peas
But not your everyday out-of-the-freezer-bag peas
I'm talking fighting your way through too-closely packed rows of twined-up vines
Listening to those swollen pods rattle
And the squeeeak as you nip them off with green-stained thumb and finger
To add them to their brothers in the basket
(Although many mysteriously find their way to the mouth instead)
And then the POP and RIIIP of those cocoons
As they relinquish their close-guarded treasures
Green globes cascading into Tupperware
And into laps when attention wavers
All leading up to that proud presentation at the dinner table:
Our heroes -- slightly chilled of course
Having never known the sacrilege of the cooking pot
Ready to explode stored sunshine with every bite...
Ah, I think that I shall never see
A veggie lovely as a pea
Unless you count those firm, crisp new carrots there
The was written a few years ago in a moment of pure silliness. I think, though, that it still has a little bit of something to say about the transience of satisfaction.
Either that, or it's a hint at the absolute relief that finally having fresh veggies again can give a person who lives in a country with a fairly short growing season...