A long time ago, I did not like you.
But then I grew up, and my taste buds matured.
When waiters ask “Do you want mushrooms with that?” — I answer “Sure!”
I put you in salads, chop you up for spaghetti.
When my husband grills steak, only with mushrooms on top do I think it is ready.
In omelets and burger toppings, meatloaf and soup —
Rarely do I put you in something, taste it and think “Oops.”
So thank you, dear mushrooms, for not giving up on me —
And now, to celebrate, I think I shall eat thee.
(Robert Frost has nothing on me!)
(And yes, I used to hate mushrooms. Not anymore! I sautéed some for pork chops tonight with a little whiskey and butter. Yum!)
(I shall compose a poem to green — and red and yellow and orange — peppers someday. Sadly, though, I will never write one for tomatoes.)