I am not alone in my hatred of sprouts. They’re the Simon Cowell of the vegetable world; nobody (except a few misguided souls) likes them, and yet they come back year after year, thanks to tradition in the one case, and impressive marketing in the other.
Why do we insist on perpetuating the reign of these tiny, rancid cabbages? Even the most ardent Brussels sprout fan can’t deny that the tradition of eating sprouts at Christmas was clearly the result of a poor harvest and a savvy farmer, followed by years of blind acceptence of the flatulent consequences.
Well, I’m standing up to the tyranny of the Brussels sprout. This Christmas, I had peas, carrots and proper cabbage with my turkey, and I urge the rest of the downtrodden masses to do the same. And if you’re one of the
freaks unique individuals who actually likes sprouts, I wish you well. In fact, you can have my helping.