Asparagus Lost and Found

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At the bakery this morning. You couldn’t miss it. It was right there near the cashiers. It’s no secret I don’t like it for several reasons.

1. I’m not a cow. I don’t eat grass, even if it’s thick like asparagus.

2. I’m not on a diet. I’ve tried losing weight several times, but I get dizzy when I’m hungry.

3. I have a choice now because I have some money to buy food. I won’t when I’m dead. I might find asparagus on a plate, with Satan threatening to fork me to death if I don’t eat it. ‘It’s good for you.’ Satan is quite dumb. I’m dead already so he can’t kill me.

4. I don’t know how to pronounce asparagus.

5. Restaurants intimidate us with the price. They dress it up with some strips of cold meat with an Italian name, sprinkle some nuts and slap $20 on it. It’s called an appetizer. That’s redundant. The appetite made me leave home to come here.

Asparagus What Next?

I did not buy it for research purposes. The bakery claims it’s organic but I can’t ascertain that because I don’t know how asparagus drunk from chemicals tastes like.

I bought it for culinary purposes. Its DNA is complicated though, because the heads look soft like a woman who just left the salon, whereas the stems are intimidating, straight like a street pole. I might steam the vegetable for two minutes, then chop the heads and fold them in an omelette. Give cheese a rest so to speak. I might chop the stubborn stems and drop them in a bean or chickpea  soup. I might add them in a pot when brown rice is left with five minutes, cooking time. Wish me luck!

By: Nonqaba waka Msimang.

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