Broccoli, apparently, is good for you. The greener and crisper the better. It’s a message that has been handed down from generation to generation since the magical vegetable was invented. And I actually like it. I can even eat it raw without ranch. How’s that for healthy?
But there’s a problem: bugs. I don’t mind the occasional critter that might have needed a ride to the grocery store. And I might even be able to forgive a broccoli-colored worm that might stroll from the florets after I take it from the fridge. (True story.) It makes sense given the fact that broccoli comes from the ground and all.
However, a recent go-round with a head of broccoli was, perhaps, the most traumatic experience involving food in my life ever. (Followed in a close second by numerous attempts at white fish that end miserably with a pile of overcooked mush on a plate.) At the sink, I washed what I considered to be thoroughly, each little tree. I ran my thumb each one under the water, believing that I had removed all traces of dirt, grime, and random insect in case there happened to be one. And there was one. I caught it scurrying down the stem and smashed it. There went that floret.
And then I took a closer look.
That dirt and grime I thought I saw wasn’t actually dirt and grime. It was a cluster of bugs. Stupid things sitting there waiting to be eaten. I looked at the ones I had already washed. More bugs. A lot more. Clusters of little critters gathered in mini kingdoms replete with a king, queen and little servant bugs all reproducing on top of one another. I picked up another floret and I saw more little kingdoms. Millions upon millions of insects ready to gain entry into my digestive system so they could feast on my internal organs. In a span of 75 seconds, I examined each and every floret that came in the bunch. They were everywhere, invisible to an untrained eye, basking in their green glory.
I was pissed. I envisioned a scenario wherein I’d retrieve the receipt from the trash, put the bug-infested broccoli back in its tainted plastic bag, drive to the grocery store and give the produce manager a piece of my mind after making him handle my produce with bare hands. I would demand an exchange for un-bugged broccoli and remind him that he has a duty to his customers to ensure a bug-free nutrients. (And I don’t care if bugs are protein.)
But I didn’t do that. I tossed it in the trash outside so I wouldn’t wake up to a bug farm in the morning and swore off broccoli for a week. It’s hard being healthy.
Writing Humbuggery 