Crimes against the palate #2.

Butter beans.

They’re a fucking disgrace.

I’m not one of those people who blames his parents for an intense dislike of certain food. My mum made me eat sprouts till I gagged, but I love the little green fuckers now. No, I hate Butter beans because they taste vile, and their texture is akin to a piece of ancient rug, powdery yet sticky.

I was given the little yellow bastards to eat from an early age, and I hated them from my first taste. I used to dread meals that they were involved in. My mum tried the tactic of hiding them in my mash; this just meant that I wouldn’t eat those either because they might just taste of the dreaded beans. In the end she gave up, usually putting one Butter bean on the side of my plate “just in case you change your mind”.

Fortunately Tracy hates them as well, so they are banned from our house. They have the distinction of being the only vegetable I don’t like, and because I am very unlikely to eat them at any time in the future, they will stay on that very small list forever. Lonely yellow packets of shite.

Next in this critically acclaimed series – Pickled Walnuts, Christmas delicacy or wrinkled vinegary cunts.