As a child, I was a finicky eater, pushing around on my plate those items that didn’t appeal—too mushy, too mealy, too pulpy—and concentrating on the eccentricities I favored.Sauteed mushrooms on toast. Black-olive and cream cheese sandwiches. A casserole my mother made from canned clams, crushed Saltines, and lots and lots of butter. I ate artichokes and asparagus happily enough, but peas and I had an on-again-off-again love affair....
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