Having eaten collard greens last Thanksgiving, I thought I’d try the turnip greens. They can’t be that different, right? Well, yes… and no….

First, like collard greens, they look like cooked-to-death spinach, which I hate, so the greens were already down one. But the taste… well, that’ll kill ya. Kind of like eating spoiled spinach mixed with rancid milk poured over it (I’m just guessing. I’ve never actually eaten that).

My taste buds threw a fit and my throat nearly didn’t let the greens pass on account of the protestations of my stomach (based on the buds opinions of said greens). Surely my taste buds must be lying… so like a dork, I tried another bite.

Nope. They weren’t lying. How do people eat this stuff on a daily basis?? Fortunately, I hadn’t put more than a few bites-full on my plate. Perhaps if I spread the rest out like so, my pile would look not-so-much like a pile as it would a few scraps lying around, and I could just leave it and no one would notice….. It worked when I was a kid. Sometimes.

Before I could carry out my brilliant child-like plan, one of my co-workers, Eric, asked me how the meal was. Before I knew it I was talking about the greens. He actually laughed at my plight. Or perhaps he was laughing at my face, which now seemed permanently scrunched up in that, "ew, that’s so nasty-tastin’!" watery-eyes look. I’ve been told I make very funny faces. I choose to believe that’s what people are laughing at, and not because I just naturally look funny. Or because I have toilet paper stuck to my shoe.

Through his giggles, Eric told me that Vinegar would help the taste. I didn’t think anything could help, but after a time, I decided to try again. I’m not one to give up easily on local food. I like to be able to eat whatever everyone else eats. Part of my overseas mentality, I guess, coupled with the fact that my oldest siblings never gave me an opportunity to have food the way I liked it, so I had to eat whatever was available. Or starve. Old habits die hard.

Eric handed me the bottle of Vinegar (after first trying to pass off the fire-starter brand as a joke)  and, resisting temptation to pour the whole bloody thing over the two bites I had left, I splashed a few big drops onto the small pile of turnip greens (looking pathetically dark and, well, nasty) and mixed the two together with a fury usually saved for the hardest of cookie dough mixes.

I tentatively brought a small fork-full of the newly flavored greens to my mouth and, after pausing to inhale deeply (through my nose, of course) I took the greens-plunge again.

Not bad. Still not something I would eat just for the heck of it. But not nearly as bad as the first few bites.

By this time everyone at the table had heard of my struggle with the greens and turned to watch me as I ate. I found comrades in my greens struggle as several people at the table braved to cross the Southern norm and admit they, too, struggle with digestive rebellion when Greens are present.

It may take me a bit longer than I thought to acclimate to the Southern way of eating. I thought I had it pretty much down, having come from a family strong in the meat-and-3 tradition. But I forgot that there’s a whole genre a food that I’ve never encountered. Till now.

I still highly recommend Monell’s. But be forewarned. Eat the greens at your own risk.