I am really, really trying to work up the motivation to write this post, but frankly, green beans, string beans, haricots verts, whatever the fuck you’re officially called, I’m a bit flummoxed. I don’t know what it is. I don’t like you. I think you taste rubbery and feel wormy, and vice versa. I don’t like the way you droop when you’re heated and I don’t like the way your dirty bits curl around on both ends when you’re raw. I don’t like the smug look you have all bundled in a package, and I don’t like the waxy greasy way you shine when you flop out of the Birds Eye bag. Honestly, when I start to think about vegetables I never liked, you’re pretty close to the ur-example.
But I dunno, when it comes to hating you, I just don’t see the point. You’re so bland and wimpy. It feels like stepping on one of those little brown sparrowy-type birds you see in the city - hard to achieve, nowhere near as satisfying as kicking a pigeon, and it just makes me look like the bad guy.
See? I said too much, didn’t I?
Fuck you, green beans. Fuck all your stringy asses. And the almondines you rode in on.
image via MattySC at en.wikipedia