Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Give Peas a Chance
There are few things I hate more in this world than canned peas. In fact, I can only think of three things that I hate more than canned peas: Hitler, roaches and Ray Romano. I started ruminating about canned peas when I was eating fresh stir-fry from my work cafeteria. In my stir-fry was a handful of fresh peas. With wonderful flavor and texture, fresh peas are one of my favorite vegetables. Canned peas on the other hand taste like rotten garbage. This leads me to an important point - I believe that there is no greater difference between any fresh and canned product than there is between that of peas. For example, I enjoy the crispiness of fresh green beans, but also enjoy the somewhat mushy texture of canned green beans. Canned corn is ok with me. Same with canned spinach, mushrooms and carrots. Peas are a whole different story. For some reason, the process of canning the peas has stripped these once vibrant balls of flavor into lifeless, wrinkly, pungent funk. Someone needs to get on those Del Monte execs and tell them that the status quo is unacceptable. We cannot allow one more can to infect the palate of our youth. We must put a stop to this immediately. I need your help.
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2 comments:
I don't really eat too many vegetables, so I can't adequately speak to your pea problem. I do like canned green beans though. Also, I think the Green Giant frozen corn nibblets in butter are fantastic. I like those almost as fresh corn on the cob ... almost.
I hate Everybody Loves Raymond, but not necessarily Ray Romano. What makes me even angrier is the title of the show. Clearly, everybody does not love Raymond. In fact, most people I know don't even like Raymond, as illustrated by Sinoway classifying him with Hitler.
Also, I capitalized the title of your post to conform with the rest of the postings here on NegativeMode. While I am a staunch supporter of the free exchange of ideas, I cannot, in good conscious, let blog titles go un capitalized. There are some things in this world that are sacred.
Finally, where are you BrownBear? Do they have you burried in some pile of boxes and documents over there on the West side?
I want chicken, I want liver, meow mix meow mix please deliver . . .
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