I was suddenly inspired to tell my "pistachio" story.
When I was a kid, we would go grocery shopping with mom. In the center of the produce area at the grocery store, they always had those tall bushel baskets full of pistachios. Red ones and brown ones. I always used the scooper and swirled them around and I always told my mom that I wanted some, and she always told me that they were gross and I wouldn't like them. So this month, my friend Cari and I went to the Chestnut Street Inn for Moroccan Food with Jeff and Monica. The food was fabulous. I loved it, and the dessert cookies were fabulous, especially the ones with raisin and sesame seed coating. Yum. And there were pistachios. And I looked at Cari, and I said, without thinking "I don't think I like those" and she laughed and said "what do you mean "you don't think"- either you do or you don't!" and it was at that moment that I realized I am a 27 year old still having never tried a pistachio because my mom told me they were gross when I was probably 6. So I decided to try one. YUM! And so I told Cari about it and afterwards I promptly called my mom and asked her why she told me that. Her response was that she never liked the red ones... and I suppose she probably wanted me to stop running the scoop through them in the grocery store and trying to make her buy me some.
So now I have discovered, at 27, that I like pistachios.