I like tortilla soup.
Matter-of-fact, a good chicken tortilla soup is one of my comfort foods, so I was damned near ecstatic when LawMom called me to say that she had sampled the tortilla soup at Cheddars, and that it had passed muster.
So, after a particularly nasty day at work, I trundled into The Big City for a nice bowl of chicken-y goodness.
'Bout my fourth spoonful -- om nom nom -- and I notice a distinct green tint to the mass occupying the bowl of the spoon, and I decide that Cheddars is generous with the avocado ...
... and then I bite into it.
The texture was ... wrong. And not just a little bit wrong, I mean football bat wrong.
Probably because it was a tree of broccoli.
Yes, I realize that chunks of broccoli are properly referred to as "florets", but there was a bloody partridge hiding amongst the branches on this one.
"Okay, self," I say to my self, "Probably just a stray lost piece of broccoli fell into the soup tureen -- odd, but worse things happen."
And then I came up with Broccoli Tree #2. I'm of the impression that this one had a tyre swing dangling from one of the branches, but I might be mistaken.
Folks, I hate broccoli. And somehow I don't think broccoli is native to Mexico. Or Mexican cooking.
I realize that broccoli is cheap. And the fact that it is allegedly healthy probably eases the old conscience of folks what use the bloody plant as filler.
But, for Freyja's sake, some food is sacrosanct! Mexican food should not be contaminated by broccoli!
When my legions of flying monkeys complete my quest for World Domination, anyone caught sneaking broccoli into non-broccoli-type food will be summarily defenestrated.