Of mushy peas and olives

Reading Infinitefreetime’s post about soup got me thinking about our latest food issues.

Yesterday we invited my hubby’s mother over for dinner and she got talking with my husband about their beloved mushy peas. Now, my hubby is British but his mother is the Union Jack personified. Thirty odd years in Canada haven’t made one chink in that thick British armour. Their conversation was hilarious.

‘Did you taste the mushy peas in Walmart?’

‘Aren’t they good?’

‘Oh yes. They’re really good. I only have a can left.’

‘I got four last time I was there, just in case.’

Good heavens. Mushy peas. You’d think they’re talking about steak or something.

Then Hubby’s Mother turns to me and asks if I like mushy peas. Well, I might be not be British but I’m not an idiot and I said I loved them. She beamed a smile and obviously put me down in her will. Mushy peas. It boggles the mind.

We actually disappointed the lovely lady because, after all that preamble, there were no mushy peas for supper. Instead, we had nachos for dinner. We make them ourselves. We get a bag of corn Tostitos and add the toppings of our choice. Yesterday we had veggie meat, refried beans, tomato sauce, black or green olives, cheese sauce, grated cheese, mushrooms, hot peppers, onions and sour cream and salsa on the side. We lay the tostitos and make a foundation, then pile the toppings ending up with cheese and use the oven broiler to melt the cheese; then do it again. We end up with a pile of nachos with delicious toppings covered with melted cheese that’s just a little burned. Soooo good.

Well, Hubby’s Mother didn’t know what they were. “Doritos?” she asked. “I’ve eaten them before. The red ones?” I tried to explain that we’re not eating the red Doritos but then gave up and showed her the finished product for enlightenment. She blinked, completely at a loss and I had to eat one for her to comprehend it was food.

“What are those black things?”


She turned the colour of her mushy peas.

Turns out she doesn’t like olives (green or black). Apparently she ate one years ago thinking it was a grape and has never gotten over the betrayal.

I told her not to go to Spain. Ever.


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