Sal’s just picked up our veg bag from the pub and we are hovered over it, a murmur of anticipation crackling in the room.
What is inside? What has Veg Bag Thursday brought us?
It’s a special time.
Peering inside, I see a large, muddy, missile-shaped object that is obscuring the rest of the contents.
“What is THAT?” I give it a nudge. We share a moment of befuddled silence.
“Maybe one of those white carrot things?” Sal shrugs.
“A parsnip? No way. Maybe it’s a new vegetable. Or a behemoth swede.”
I give the thing a bath in my largest bowl. It doesn’t fit – I have to wash one end at a time. Sure enough – a parsnip appears from the brown water. It sits in the bowl, chunky, proud and ruddy – like how I always picture Winston Churchill.
I can hardly scrub it, as it’s the length of my arm. It weights as much as a baby. I don’t have room in my life for this much parsnip. Maybe, I think, I could cut it in half and freeze some of it.
But I don’t have a knife big enough to cut it.
I peer down at it with a tingle of futility. They say that when life gives you lemons, to make lemonade.
But what if life gives you impossible parsnips?