Peach or Barf? We Need a Small Favor, Please
(We'd love to be your Third Best Media Friend.)
Food as a verb thanks
for sponsoring this series
It was an existential moment. In my hand, one solitary jellybean.
Colored pink-orange like coral, it also had a slight, ominous shade to it, like bubblegum on the sidewalk or rotten salmon.
I was in the kitchen, as a dozen family and friends stared on with anticipation; sort of like the first step onto a tightrope, or a Giannis free throw, there was a sense of drama: this could be ok ... turn quite ugly.
The jellybean? Inside, one of two flavors.
Peach.
Or barf.
The only way to know? Bite into it.
This is the premise of Beanboozled: a game of culinary chance, like Russian Roulette with jellybeans.
You finger-spin the wheel - thus, chance - which then points like a compass needle towards your fate: one bean, which may taste quite good or nauseating.
You don't know until you take a bite.
Will it be wet dog or banana?
Dead fish?
Or a strawberry smoothie?
Stink bug?
Or toasted marshmallow?
On Christmas morning, my brother-in-law bit into what he hoped was a pear. Nope.
"Booger," he choked out, hand over his mouth.
(Don't worry. It's good for him.)
Isn't this life? Some days, we get licorice. Other days, burnt rubber. That new job? New partner? New house? We hope it's cheesecake, but it may taste more like roadkill.
Christmas morning, as my brother-in-law ate boogers, I opted out of playing. Not one for risk, or throwing up in my mouth, I passed. No thanks.
But then, like Cindy Loo Who, came the lone voice of someone I love very much.
My third best friend.
Her name's Lane. She's my niece. Just turned nine. Years ago, we established a rather special relationship.
We're good friends, she said.
Oh yes, I answered. The best.
Well, we can't be best friends. I already have two best friends, she said, then, with a twinkle:
But you can be my third best friend.
If you've never had a Third Best Friend, the experience is a treasure. There's not the full pressure of best friends, but a warm step up from just regular buds.
Third Best Friends give the best hugs. We even have a secret sign.
Lane has a birthday nestled between Christmas and New Year's. Guess what she asked her Third Best Friend?
Can't really say no to that, can I? After all, what are Third Best Friends for?
Two days before New Year's, with a pocket of Tums at the ready, I bit into the peach-or-barf jellybean.
There was this micro-second pause - the in-between, like the moments when the ball flies through the air but hasn't hit the goal yet - when all my taste buds were leaning over the HQ controllers, sweating through their neckties, scanning for any input, ready to sound the alarm ... or relax.
In that pause, I looked over at my Third Best Friend. She looked elated, on the edge of exploding with delight, as if even her eyes were giggling.
Then, came the first tingly sensation of taste.
I knew.
Isn't it funny what life brings?
Peach or barf?
We need a favor from you, please.
We launched Food as a Verb 17 months ago with a good scoop of confidence but also some uncertainty. Will this work?
Will folks like it? Will they find the peach?
Or will it taste like, you know, barfy?
Within the uncertainty, we had trust: in ourselves, our work and vision. We also had intention: we wanted - then and now - to offer something restorative and good to this community.
We'd like to expand and deepen that in 2025.
But we need your help.
Two favors, please.
- First, would you encourage all your friends, family and colleagues to subscribe? If you love our work, share it with others.
They can do so right here. Send them this link.
It's also on the very top of our homepage.
- Next, we cooked up a little survey. Just a few questions.
We've got some ideas for 2025; we think they're peachy, but we want your feedback and thoughts first.
Just click here or on the Survey box below.
So, we enter the new year bubbling with plans, but we never - never-ever - want to do this alone.
Food as a Verb is designed for community. That's you. And all the folks you invite to join us as we build together this long, beautiful table.
Sure, there's lots of media out there. We aren't asking for centerstage.
Just to be good friends.
Maybe even your Third Best Media Friend.
Oh yeah, speaking of Third Best Friends.
That Lane? She's a joy, my #3BFF, a one-in-a-million treasure.
A real peach.
Just like that jellybean I ate.
Happy New Year, everyone. We're head-over-heels grateful for you all. Here's hoping 2025 isn't very barfy.
Story ideas, questions, feedback? Interested in partnering with us? Email: david@foodasaverb.com
This story is 100% human generated; no AI chatbot was used in the creation of this content.
food as a verb thanks our sustaining partner:
food as a verb thanks our story sponsor:
Tucker Build
WE PLAN | WE MANAGE | WE BUILD
It was an existential moment. In my hand, one solitary jellybean.
Colored pink-orange like coral, it also had a slight, ominous shade to it, like bubblegum on the sidewalk or rotten salmon.
I was in the kitchen, as a dozen family and friends stared on with anticipation; sort of like the first step onto a tightrope, or a Giannis free throw, there was a sense of drama: this could be ok ... turn quite ugly.
The jellybean? Inside, one of two flavors.
Peach.
Or barf.
The only way to know? Bite into it.
This is the premise of Beanboozled: a game of culinary chance, like Russian Roulette with jellybeans.
You finger-spin the wheel - thus, chance - which then points like a compass needle towards your fate: one bean, which may taste quite good or nauseating.
You don't know until you take a bite.
Will it be wet dog or banana?
Dead fish?
Or a strawberry smoothie?
Stink bug?
Or toasted marshmallow?
On Christmas morning, my brother-in-law bit into what he hoped was a pear. Nope.
"Booger," he choked out, hand over his mouth.
(Don't worry. It's good for him.)
Isn't this life? Some days, we get licorice. Other days, burnt rubber. That new job? New partner? New house? We hope it's cheesecake, but it may taste more like roadkill.
Christmas morning, as my brother-in-law ate boogers, I opted out of playing. Not one for risk, or throwing up in my mouth, I passed. No thanks.
But then, like Cindy Loo Who, came the lone voice of someone I love very much.
My third best friend.
Her name's Lane. She's my niece. Just turned nine. Years ago, we established a rather special relationship.
We're good friends, she said.
Oh yes, I answered. The best.
Well, we can't be best friends. I already have two best friends, she said, then, with a twinkle:
But you can be my third best friend.
If you've never had a Third Best Friend, the experience is a treasure. There's not the full pressure of best friends, but a warm step up from just regular buds.
Third Best Friends give the best hugs. We even have a secret sign.
Lane has a birthday nestled between Christmas and New Year's. Guess what she asked her Third Best Friend?
Can't really say no to that, can I? After all, what are Third Best Friends for?
Two days before New Year's, with a pocket of Tums at the ready, I bit into the peach-or-barf jellybean.
There was this micro-second pause - the in-between, like the moments when the ball flies through the air but hasn't hit the goal yet - when all my taste buds were leaning over the HQ controllers, sweating through their neckties, scanning for any input, ready to sound the alarm ... or relax.
In that pause, I looked over at my Third Best Friend. She looked elated, on the edge of exploding with delight, as if even her eyes were giggling.
Then, came the first tingly sensation of taste.
I knew.
Isn't it funny what life brings?
Peach or barf?
We need a favor from you, please.
We launched Food as a Verb 17 months ago with a good scoop of confidence but also some uncertainty. Will this work?
Will folks like it? Will they find the peach?
Or will it taste like, you know, barfy?
Within the uncertainty, we had trust: in ourselves, our work and vision. We also had intention: we wanted - then and now - to offer something restorative and good to this community.
We'd like to expand and deepen that in 2025.
But we need your help.
Two favors, please.
- First, would you encourage all your friends, family and colleagues to subscribe? If you love our work, share it with others.
They can do so right here. Send them this link.
It's also on the very top of our homepage.
- Next, we cooked up a little survey. Just a few questions.
We've got some ideas for 2025; we think they're peachy, but we want your feedback and thoughts first.
Just click here or on the Survey box below.
So, we enter the new year bubbling with plans, but we never - never-ever - want to do this alone.
Food as a Verb is designed for community. That's you. And all the folks you invite to join us as we build together this long, beautiful table.
Sure, there's lots of media out there. We aren't asking for centerstage.
Just to be good friends.
Maybe even your Third Best Media Friend.
Oh yeah, speaking of Third Best Friends.
That Lane? She's a joy, my #3BFF, a one-in-a-million treasure.
A real peach.
Just like that jellybean I ate.
Happy New Year, everyone. We're head-over-heels grateful for you all. Here's hoping 2025 isn't very barfy.
Story ideas, questions, feedback? Interested in partnering with us? Email: david@foodasaverb.com
This story is 100% human generated; no AI chatbot was used in the creation of this content.
Food as a verb thanks our story sponsor:
Food as a Verb Thanks our sustaining partner:
WE PLAN | WE MANAGE | WE BUILD
