Queen of the Radishes-A Story to Relish
Mom loved to set a beautiful table, from the linens and tableware,
to the presentation of the food itself. Garnishes were one way to
delight the eye, as well as the palette.
Her favorite way to attend to this detail was
“radish roses”.
The dinner table was a place where she commanded respect.
We were expected to practice good table manners,
and our conversations were to be pleasant exchanges.
Dad was unfortunate to err in this domain, and his punishment was swift.
Not being one to raise her voice at the table, instead Mom raised her hand.
In her grasp, she held the only weapon at her disposal: a radish.
Her aim was true;
the missile was shot,
landing squarely on Dad's forehead.
Justice was delivered when the radish
rebounded off Dad's astonished face,
back across the table to Mom's awaiting hand.
The event became legendary,
and the story has been repeated many times.
It is chronicled here to honor Mom's memory as a gracious hostess,
matriarch of a genteel dinner table,
and one heck of a shot.
