LETTER from TERRY BERKSON
Brussell Sprouts & Billy Joel
Brussels sprouts are just about the last thing we harvest from our garden.
I can remember many a deer season when I’d walk out in the snow-covered yard to get some. Alice likes to simmer them in chicken broth and later pour some honey on them.
Several years ago I drove over to our local nursery to pick up some vegetable seedlings. Alice was weeding when I got home and she offered to help with planting. The broccoli went in OK, as did the peppers, but before the Brussels sprouts found root my wife dropped a shovel on the pack crushing some of the plants.
“I feel terrible,” she said.
“That’s okay,” I offered. “We have plenty left.”
As if to prove I was wrong, Alice lifted the plant box with a gloved hand, only to have it slip to the ground upside down. I turned the box over. Now, every stem was broken. “Is it that you don’t like Brussels sprouts?” I asked.
