We stared at the box. Two cooks and a box of leeks. A conundrum.
“Well…” I started slowly, and lifted my right hand to hold my bottom lip, elbow cradled in my left hand as it folded across me. I tapped my chin. A thinking position.
“I hear leek soup is good.”
Becky acknowledged the half hearted suggestion with an equally half hearted nod. We’d shove the box in the fridge and deal with it when we found a recipe.
We had two different staff members ask about leeks after hearing of our unwanted box that day. It was the second week our broccoli had been shorted on the grocery order and a substitute sent. I suppose the leeks were better than the onions – I mean Really, Who sends a whole CASE of GREEN ONIONS to substitute BROCCOLI?? You can NOT serve that as a side veg on an entree, let me tell you that much. – but our creativity was waning. You can garnish a lot of things with leek leaves and green onions, but I wouldn’t suggest planning a menu around the things.
“Sooo… what exactly are leeks again?”
we were hesitatingly asked by our co-workers.
I’ll be honest. I’ve never worked with leeks before. I think Becky hardly has either, so our answers were vague.
“It’s kind of like… in the potato family…but it’s not a potato.” I offered.
“And it looks like Celery, a little bit.” Becky added.
“Yeah, but rounder, kind of like a cucumber?”
We said it went in soup a lot. With potatoes and turnips. But there was something radishy about them too.
I wondered how close we were to making things up.
Then Becky hit the nail on the head:
“Actually, I guess it’s just like a giant green onion. A chive on steroids, you might say.”
And then grinned to exclaim
“A little bit of everything!
The camel of all vegetables!”
A little bit of this, a little bit of that. The phrase reminded me of a certain encounter with The Camel Man, on the side of an empty prairie highway in the outskirts of Mongolia. It’s one of my fondest memories. You can read about it by clicking right HERE. Please do! I’m sure you’ll see the connection…