In which I eat spinach…and like it

March 9th, 2012

spinach spoken herephoto source 

When Josh and I took the kids down to visit Country Church a few weeks ago, we had dinner at the house of one of the congregation members.  It was a lovely, comfortable house on a big plot of land.  There were cows out front, rolling hills behind, and hard wood everywhere inside.

Dinner was simple but great.  Chicken, baked potatoes, broccoli, bread, and some sort of spinach frittata thing.  Uh oh.  Spinach.  I was faced with the age-old dilemma of how to pretend to enjoy something you hate so as not to appear to be an ungrateful guest.

I nervously forked a tiny piece of green stuff into my mouth.

What’s that?  It’s yummy?  How can this be?

As I packed away my second helping, I complimented our hostess and inquired about the recipe.  “Oh,” she said, “there’s bread crumbs, and some spices.  Oh yeah, and a whole stick of butter.

Yup, those are good people down there.  I love them already.

2 responses to “In which I eat spinach…and like it”

  1. Isa says:

    Ah, we are so different, you and I. Spinach just needs a good wilt. Maybe a little lemon juice. And, if I’m feeling really fancy, possibly a fork.

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