(I have no idea why I wrote this)
My unassuming vegetable of long, orange, loveliness.
The base of my stock, the bejeweled foundation of my ragu, the subtle, velvety note in my stew and dumplings.
Throughout your time with us, you have served us silently, stoically. You give. You rarely take. If only the world was full of more like you.
I plant you: you grow. I don’t water you: you still grow. I don’t grow enough of you: you are only 65p a bag in Lidl.
You juice well, blend well, crunch delectably. Hell, you even make cakes taste good.
Sometimes, when I find you neglected, twisted and blackened at the back of the cupboard, the guilt of your wasted beauty engulfs me. And sometimes, even you, with you warm autumnal hue, must find it hard to dazzle next to Aubergine and Fennel and Pak Choi. But I see you there, strong, silent, reliable. Useful.
That ill-fated rendezvous you had with mashed turnip was forgotten the moment that you presented yourself to me glossy, al dente, wrapped in your glistening honey coat. How we tittered carrot – as if you aren’t already sweet enough.
Oh carrot. It must be hard when you see the kids favour the peas, those small-brained frozen skinheads (the peas, not the kids). But I see the children grow, and as they put the misery of those tasteless purees behind them, they rediscover you. They will soon embrace you too, frozen, or boiled, steamed or as crudités, or as humble soup: sumptuous and glorious, coating their bread roll with your thyme-infused warmth.
Until that day, carrot, I just wanted to say thank you.
Thank you for always being there. For tasting good. For being you.
12 thoughts on “An Open Letter to Carrot”
I got “playful”, but also feel the need to explain this one. In My Early Life Churchill asks why he would ever have to address a table, so why he should learn the vocative case- this just goes to show…
Sorry for delay in response Clare, I had to look up what ‘vocative case’ means *head hangs in shame*. I’ve learned something new, and I can also speak to carrots. Life is good.
I thought you would know. I suppose “Je pense donc Maman” would not be so universally recognisable….
” It must be hard when you see the kids favour the peas, those small brained frozen skin heads (the peas, not the kids).” This is the best thing I have read all week.
Thank you for writing such a delightful letter!
Hee hee. Glad you liked it! Have to say, it was a lot of fun writing it. It’s great to act a little daft in blogging land sometimes.
The carrots would be proud! 😀
Hee hee. Thank you 😉
In my “Ode to a Carrot” I’d have to have a line about saving me from teething puppies – frozen carrots have saved my hands plenty of times in the last few weeks.
I never, ever knew that was a use for carrots! Now you mention it, I should have included that my nana used to cut them up into cigarette shapes to help her both stop smoking and not put weight on. Genius!
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Wow. Thank you for the award. Looking forward to clicking through to see what next!