Thursday, August 25, 2005


(Run originally 3/4/04 on our old site)

Dan E. Randle

I fell off my chair laughing when I read your story about the horseradish. Since my chair had arms on it, it was hard to do. I know just how you felt.

My story begins in a Navy chow hall in 1958, during the period I was going through Radio school at Naval Training Center, San Diego. I was so hungry one noon that I could have eaten just about anything. As I was going down the Chow line, I came across a large pan of what looked like sour cream. I asked what it was and was told that it was horseradish. Since mom was reared in the country on a farm in Mississippi, she never served anything out of the ordinary. I don't remember anyone serving horseradish in Searcy during my years there. Naturally I took a good size helping of the horseradish. Everyone was telling me I would really like it. Believing them, I took a spoonful, expecting something that tasted good. My sinuses blew out, steam blew out my ears and the top of my head exploded (at least that’s what it felt like). Like you, it took me a few minutes before I could think, see, hear or speak. At that point I was ready to pound on some swabbies. Knowing that I would get into too much trouble, I just gave them a few verbal blue streaks and got over it. Everyone had a big laugh and I soon forgot about it until I read your piece.

I have since developed a taste for horseradish on various food items. In New York, they introduced me to horseradish on beef sandwiches, Virginia horseradish in seafood sauce, just to name a few. I even grew it one time when I was living in Lake Oswego, Oregon. I didn't know it before I planted it, but you can't get rid of the stuff once you have it: I think the roots go down to China. Then, when I ground it up, it was too hot to eat. Next I tried cutting it with parsnip, but it was still too hot, so I gave up: the commercial producers make it so much better than I can. In any case, four years later it was still coming up. I got rid of though: sold the house and moved to Coos Bay.

By the way, I added Judy Deener's picture to the album for Class of 54. I'm getting the impression that people don't want us to see what they look like today. What do you think?

Tom Pry

Reminds me of the story about the little Jewish kid whose mother put horseradish on EVERYTHING. Finally, he went in the Army and, his second day, he reported to sick call. It was the first time in his life he HADN’T had heartburn, and he thought his fire had gone out.

As for YOU and the horseradish, Dan … don’t you think that selling your farm was just a wee tad of overkill?


Blogger bridget15bryon said...

damn good blog, check out mine, comments always welcome!

10:04 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home