You Live(r) With It Or Find A Way To Spin(ach) It

When I was growing up, my mom would occasionally cook liver for dinner. The first time I tried it, I hated it; it was mealy and bitter. I just didn’t see what the rest of my family loved about it.

Mom would also cook bacon as a topping for the liver, a la mushrooms on steak. I would eat the bacon but leave the liver. She would try to cajole me into eating some liver, and some nights, I would take a bite or two to appease her. But I still loathed it.

One night, she cooked some spinach as our vegetable side dish. I loved spinach and would put butter and/or lemon juice on it. But then, I noticed that my dad’s plate didn’t have any spinach. I asked my mom about it after dinner, and she said Dad didn’t like spinach.

Me: “Well, I don’t like liver, and you still insist that I try to eat some. So, why doesn’t he need to eat spinach?”

Seeing my logic — and not one to just dismiss me by saying, “Because I said so!” — she agreed that on nights with spinach, Dad wouldn’t have to eat any, and on liver nights, I wouldn’t have to eat liver.

The bonus on top of this deal: she would cook extra bacon for me to eat instead of liver. That was a win-win for me.