My wife and I recently discovered that those little pinkie sized carrots at the market don’t grow that way but are actually carved from their big orange brethren into the mini ‘nary- a-carrot’ versions. Sadly I am all thumbs so to cut up skinny carrots in my own image is impossible so no matter how hard I try, they will end up too fat. Fortunately I am not a quitter so inadvertently whenever I get hold of a peeler now, even if the carrot starts out as long as a leg and as thick as a tree, in the end, it will always give me the finger.
I know it would be a lot cheaper to just buy the banded bunched carrots instead of paying for the cello bag full of of washed midgets. But the problem is to this day I can’t eat a cleaned raw carrot while the stalk is still on for fear of being shot as a fat gassy rabbit raiding the root cellar. Of course that means just like most folks, I resort to the store cut packaged variety and must always entertain myself with a temporary orifice insertion or two before eating.
Honestly other than an occasional yam around the holidays, I can’t think of any other orange food I would shove in my face without serious second thoughts. Oh sure you marmalade fans will disagree but I gag just at the sight of those disposer chunks of rind and whatnot floating around in some translucent synaptic gelatin. Also lets all acknowledge right now that slimy ‘punkin’ guts’ might make for a good pie with enough sugar and spice but they won’t win any beauty or smell tests right out of the gourd’s raw craw.
Though good for me, fresh carrots are a bit of a pain to snack on since I can’t hear the television over the sound of the carotene-crushing reverberation through my skull. I know they can cut them down to size but can’t they grow these things in the image of lettuce or something equally feckless and flaccid so I can eat in peace? Oh well, It seems like other babies don’t mind glass jars full of orange n’ messy goo so maybe if I stew a few, bear down and coo, I DOO TOO!