In the South, you grow up eating steak and mashed potatoes with a side of peas.
My family ate this for dinner at least once a week (and even at the tender age of five I would try to hide my steak as opposed to eating it, but that’s not the topic today).
And most southerners create the mashed potato/pea volcano. You create a hole in your potato stack, fill it with the peas, smother it in gravy, and spoon the flavor explosion down like it’s your last meal.
I hated this. Because I hated peas. And I still hate peas.
Because peas are gross.
No matter what you do to them, they are gross. Salt? Gross. Sugar? Gross. In salad? Gross. In a box with a fox? Gross.
Peas are vile, nasty little balls of evil and they must be stopped.
They’ve already infected (yes, infected) England. While there, I might as well of been in Hell because every fucking meal came with peas.
Mushy peas.
Being a mature adult, I always gave them a try. Being a human being with tastebuds, I would always immediately spit them out into my napkin.
Here in the states, baby food jars are stuffed with pasty peas. No wonder babies are messy eaters. I’d spit that shit out all over the place, too.
The only time they’re somewhat edible is in Indian food. Perhaps that’s a different breed of pea that doesn’t taste like urine. Who knows?
Regardless of India’s success, I’m officially petitioning the eating of peas. Surely there’s a better use for them besides human consumption.
Like jewelry making. Or as dye.
"We're like peas in a pod" is NOT a compliment.
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