April 26, 2011
It was lying there on the shelf, cooling itself under the mist of the irrigation sprinklers. It fooled me. I grabbed it without thinking, bagged it up, and said to my wife, "I got the parsley!" Later, as it was being chopped in the kitchen, I gave no thought to the smell. It was an honest mistake. I scraped it from the cutting board and into the pot of tomato sauce bubbling happily away on the stove. Not long after, dinner was served. That first bite, I'd never forget it, not even if I lived to be a million years old. As my wife and I spat the evil, bitter green plant from our mouths, we looked at each other and snarled..."Cilantro."