Welcome to my world!

     Confession: I am new at this blogging thing. I have been a "writer" of sorts my entire life beginning in grammar school with a story about self-aware Halloween candy (first and last time I ever misspelled "chocolate"), just never very serious. I'm still not terribly serious...but I have a hamster on a wheel in my brain going 90 miles an hour and I need a place to put these ramblings. And I'm going to start with spinach...
     Growing up, I always thought vegetables were grey. Even carrots were orange-grey, and I still cannot fathom how my mom managed it. As you can imagine, I was no fan of any vegetation that appeared on my plate. I didn't understand how Popeye could stomach  what looked to me to be grey-green-slimy grass clippings. Broccoli? Beady mush. Beets? No. Just no.
     My food aversions were not limited to vegetables. Fruit? No, thanks. Fruit was, at least in 1960's suburbia, inconsistent at best. The shiniest apple could be mealy under that red satin skin. Bananas could have spots of mush. Peaches? I had an unfortunate encounter at age 6 with The Cafeteria Lady involving a serving of "Canned Sliced Peaches in Heavy Syrup" that ended with my having to mop the floor.  So, I avoided, ignored, and turned up my nose. "No, I will not eat whatever that is and you can't make me."
     To be perfectly honest, Mom had nine people to feed, and my six siblings did not seem to have a problem.
     So I was labeled "Finicky."
     Then I married The Mister (my DH who makes me coffee and doesn't seem to mind that I'm non-verbal before 9a.m.) and we began to build our home and family. I was forced to deal with edible plant matter. The Mister was raised in a small town in Mississippi. His mom would buy fresh produce from farmers off their trucks and would "can" extras (she could also cross stitch and crochet and make caramel icing). My work was cut out for me.
     I knew it would be wrong to pass my weird textural squeamishness on to the next generation, so, I sucked it up. I bought cookbooks and food magazines and read articles in the newspaper. And practiced. And faked it in front of the children.
     What I came to realize was fresh vegetables are a completely different entity from the canned-then-boiled-to-oblivion version I had been introduced to. Broccoli, lightly steamed, is bright green and crisp! Spinach sauteed with butter and garlic is not grassy or slimy at all! Roasted beets! What a revelation!
     I expanded my repertoire, practiced some more. My kids, now adults, are amazing cooks and fearless, adventuresome eaters. I feel like a success. Except for peaches. I can't get over peaches...
     And now, I present my recipe for Creamed Spinach.
(This recipe can be doubled. Leftovers are terrific as a filling for omelettes)

1 lb fresh spinach, washed and stems removed (I have that thing about texture. If stems don't bother you, you can leave them)
2 tbsp butter
2 tbsp flour
1 1/4 cup milk or half & half
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 cup grated parmesan cheese
Pinch or two Fresh grated nutmeg (I feel like kitchen diva insisting on fresh nutmeg, but the flavor and aroma are incredible. Splurge)
Salt and pepper to taste

Heat milk until just warm and add the garlic. Set aside to steep. In a medium saute pan over medium heat, wilt spinach leaves. Remove spinach to a cutting board, blot excess liquid, and chop. Set aside. In the same pan, melt butter. Add flour and stir, cooking briefly. Add milk with garlic and wisk until thickened and smooth. Fold in spinach, nutmeg, and grated cheese. Salt and pepper to taste.