In case I haven't made this clear, I'm not a big fan of cauliflower. In fact, I'm such a hater of this Brassica oleracea species that I named my blog after it. (Obviously not in an admirable way: "cauliflower" + "socks" = unappetizing). But don't go thinkin' I'm some kind of picky-eater just because I cringe at the thought of those albino florets. I have a true admiration for a lot of other cruciferous vegetables: kale, broccoli, and brussels sprouts, to name a few. However, for as long as I can remember, cauliflower has been on my terse "Do Not Eat" list. I've been known to say that cauliflower tastes like sweaty socks. "Ick!" you're thinking. That's generally the reaction I get from my dining companions, too. So, I apologize to anyone who's had their appetite disrupted by my big mouth, but it's the truth! Socks! Ick!
Years ago, my dear sister told me I must be some kind of "super-taster" for feeling so strongly about a vegetable that is considered quite tasteless by many people. I don't think I quite deserve the honorable title, though it is true that I have never met anybody who feels as strongly about cauliflower as I do. I hear most cauliflower-averse folks don't care for its lack of flavor. Then there's me who, inexplicably, think it tastes like sweaty socks.
I ate some cauliflower last week. I was at a gathering of my book club, and our gracious host had made, among other delicious edibles, cauliflower casserole. I ate some. It tasted like cheese. And cauliflower, of the just-finished a 5-mile run variety. I didn't have seconds, but with a bunch of cheese, that stuff's not so bad. And though I did admit to all present that I don't like cauliflower, I didn't get into the whole "socks" bit!
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