It began with a phone call.
My mom had just returned home from visiting one of my brothers, who lives on a farm in the country.
“Your brother sent you something,” she said.
“What is it?” I asked.
There was a slight pause. “You’ll just have to see it. Come over and get it.”
Now I was curious. “I’m just sitting down to lunch. I’ll be over soon. Just tell me what it is.”
She wouldn’t budge. “Well,” she said slowly. “It is edible. You could have it for lunch.”
I repeated that I would be over later on. When I showed up she led me to a Wal-Mart bag by the back door.
It was startling.
“Good grief,” I said. I think I stepped back from it a little.
My mother seemed a little intimidated as well. “He said he thought you’d appreciate it the most.”
I was certainly . . . impressed.
What do you think?
Let’s put this in perspective.
4.25 pounds of turnip.
One LARGE vegetable.
Consider, now, the intent behind this curious gift. Probably not for eating, since vegetables of this atomic size are seldom tender.
Surely it was not meant to taunt or “show up” my meager suburban gardening efforts. After all, no brother would do such a thing to a little sister.
If you believe that, you either (a) don’t have any brothers, or, (b) don’t have any brothers.
I had been feeling pretty pleased with my own turnips.
Not smug or anything, just satisfied. Now, well, I have a new standard.
Hey, bro. How’s your broccoli looking?
Feel free to brag about your monster veg in the comments, folks. Ivory’s already shown us her sweet potato.
ETA: OK, roasted the turnip with garlic and olive oil. It was surprisingly very good.