There is something almost laughable about a mustard seed. Hold one in the palm of your hand, and you’ll barely feel it. It looks like a speck of reddish-brown dust. It is, botanically speaking, a overachiever with an inferiority complex.
But the mustard seed doesn't try to be an oak tree. It just grows. It takes the tiny amount of resources it has—a thimble of water, a crack of sunlight—and it explodes with life anyway.
If you harvest them when they are small (2-3 inches), they taste like wasabi arugula. Perfect on a steak sandwich. If you let them get large, they taste like fire, but you can sauté them in bacon fat to mellow them into a savory Southern side dish. I know I said I wouldn’t focus on the metaphor, but I have to.
There is something almost laughable about a mustard seed. Hold one in the palm of your hand, and you’ll barely feel it. It looks like a speck of reddish-brown dust. It is, botanically speaking, a overachiever with an inferiority complex.
But the mustard seed doesn't try to be an oak tree. It just grows. It takes the tiny amount of resources it has—a thimble of water, a crack of sunlight—and it explodes with life anyway. planting a mustard seed
If you harvest them when they are small (2-3 inches), they taste like wasabi arugula. Perfect on a steak sandwich. If you let them get large, they taste like fire, but you can sauté them in bacon fat to mellow them into a savory Southern side dish. I know I said I wouldn’t focus on the metaphor, but I have to. There is something almost laughable about a mustard seed
