Mary's Marvelous Mush

Image Source: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/bc/Cornmeal_mush_liver.jpg

Okay - this picture is triggering my trigger-happy gag reflex - which is perfect for this story.  This post was a special request by my sister - specifically for my nephew Dallin.  So here it is buddy!  :o)

Growing up I was notorious for many things . . . being the last at the dinner table, being mischievously creative, and trying to get my sisters in trouble - among an assortment of other things.

After a particularly delicious meal of spaghetti (my favorite) as I lingered at the table facing the assigned task of clearing it off I began to delight in the unique culinary properties of the various foods before me.  There was a tad bit of milk left in my cup - and so - I began to deliver my best Juila Child's cooking show impersonation.  It began with several heavy shakes of Parmesan cheese in my cup of milk - followed by a dash of pepper.  I must have delved further into the kitchen at this point - because I don't know why the rest of these ingredients would have been on the table.  Next came a large satisfying squirt of mustard - topped off with a heavily aromatic spoonful of nutmeg.  

At this point I would like to add that my sisters were in the kitchen - probably being the wonderful children they were - doing the dishes like they were supposed to while I admittedly lallygagged around.  My mother was in and out of the kitchen mostly unaware of what I was doing - or so I thought.  

My downfall came when I began aggressively marketing my Marvelous Mush (as it was aptly named) to my sweet obedient sisters.  Harrumpphhh!  My sales pitch was strong - and so was the stench of this concoction.  The harder I pressed for a daring volunteer to taste my mush the louder our exchange became until I brought upon myself my utter downfall.  As I watched in horror - as if from an altered state of consciousness - my mother entered the room and with an amused smile announced that if I was so confident in my product so as to attempt to wrangle my sisters into eating it - that perhaps I should taste it myself to show them how delicious it really was.  Fear struck my heart.  I knew what was in that cup.  I could smell it.  (So could they!)  For perhaps the first time in my life I was speechless.  Words wouldn't come out.  I had been outdone - caught in my own genius plan!  

My hand trembled as I slowly raised the spoon to my mouth.  The grins and smirks of my sisters fueled my pride.  I would not back down.  I would not be beat.  

You may wonder how twenty plus years later I remember the exact ingredients I mixed that day.  I'll tell you.  As that nasty - abhorrent - disgusting gritty sludge slid down my throat - every ingredient screamed out it's individual contribution across my taste buds and down my throat.  Parmesan, milk, mustard, pepper, nutmeg . . . I'm beginning to gag now.  I can still taste it.  Right this second.  

I'm sorry - I have to run to the bathroom now . . . 

And that is the infamous story of Mary's Marvelous Mush.