Ode to the organic veggie

Oh, organic veggie. You misshapen bundle of pure, healthy joy.

Never mind that you aren’t perfect. Sure, you’ll never make a freeway billboard advertising for Byerly’s, all shined, waxed and seamless. But you are SO fun!

Carrot Man!

Thank you for your prolific tendencies, which enable me to enjoy you, while you give yourself freely to other creatures..

Slug Massacre

Black Swallowtail Takeover

Oh sure, you aren’t always faithful. Your shameless flirting attracts all sorts of other creatures, who do not like to share you with me, and do their best to keep me away. Even the bumblebee, who I thought was my friend, wants you all to himself:

I got my ass whooped by a bee.

And you do have a dirty, dirty mind, with your porn-star potatoes and boobie tomatoes...

And frankly, you’re getting a little cocky with the whole “over-sized-enter-me-in-the-fair” zucchini giants:

But you smother my windowsill with beauty, each and every year.

You produce colors so vivid, I can hardly stand it. It practically makes me cry.

I know we fight sometimes. Like when I’m trying to lose weight and yet you are there, taunting me, inspiring me to create food that is so good, it not only doesn’t help me lose weight, it actually makes me gain it, because you are just so tasty, I can’t, simply CAN’T, stop eating you!!!

Grilled Vegetable Pasta

Garden Veggie Scramble with White Beans

Then I’m all mad at you, stepping on the scale the next day and thinking that if you weren’t so sweet, so convincing, so damn good with a glass of cabernet, none of this would have happened. I know, I know. I need to take responsibility for my own excess and indulgence. Blah, blah, the vegetable is always right, blah, blah.

But in the end, I am filled with admiration. Gratitude. Awe.

You tolerate my selfishness, when I relax in the hot tub, knowing that you really need more watering, but not feeling like giving you the attention. You don’t punish me, and the next day, there you are, with your red tomatoes, gorgeous butternut squash and juicy peppers.

You don’t complain when the wind blows down your inadequate cages. You don’t remind us that we promised last year to build something stronger. You simply lay down on the landscape fabric (we did that for you, you know) and ripen, honored to become a scrumptious San Marzano sauce.

You are simply you. Warty, blistered, and amazing.

You found your way into my grilled cheese. And you found you way into my heart.