It's Not All Good Eats

Very early in my childhood I learned that there are some recipes that, although published in a popular and well-read magazine, should never touch readers' lips.  Such was Mom's attempt at "something different for dinner" - Veal Mouse.  I cannot tell you exactly what it tasted like because a) I was only 10 when Mom served it for dinner which was way too many years ago and b) I probably took only the tiniest of all bites possible (we were required to at least take one bite of anything that we were served).  But I still remember what it looked like and it did not look good.

Mom has always been an "adventurous" eater - she will eat anything set in front of her.  Her husband and two daughters were more cautious about what we put into our mouths (OK, we were picky eaters).  Taste buds must be genetic. I have one son who will eat just about anything and as a child his favorite vegetable was broccoli.  Growing up, my other son has always limited the number of different fruits and vegetables that he would consume to exactly two each.  He is beginning to try different plant life but the pickings are still slim.
Veal Mouse was a gelatinous monstrosity with ground meat (I presume it was veal) with bits of chopped carrot and celery suspended in gelatin.  As I remember it had a kind of grayish-tan color with bits of orange and light green.  It did not look appetizing. 

My little sister and I refused to eat it.  I, being older and less obstinate than my sister, did try a small bite.  I am sure that my sister would have gone to bed starving rather than eat the vile looking heap on her plate.  Mom took a few bites, pushed her plate away and told us girls that we didn't have to eat this slop (I am ad-libing just a bit, I am pretty sure Mom didn't call the dish slop but she sure wasn't going to eat it).  Dad, raised by a very strict stepmother who required him to eat everything set before him, plowed away at the veal stuff.  He tried to insist that we girls eat our meal.  But since Mom wouldn't eat the junk he couldn't make my sister and I eat it.

To this day I cannot believe that Dad ate the glop.  And, of course, my sister and I tease Mom about Veal Mouse every chance we get.