Cilantro: my daughter's generation's parsley

I am so happy for my sixteen year old. She ordered some pho' soup the other night, which had noodles, slivers of onion disguised as noodle, white meat chicken and shrimp. The cilantro came in a second packet, she added herself. There was a lot of cilantro, which she likes.

I grew up on parsley. A different kind of garnish, it sat green on the side of the plates my mom and dad made the first eighteen years of my life. Under the idea of, eat everything on your plate, eventually I discovered the green leafy bunch had almost a peppermint essence; but not peppermint. Peppermint, not peppermint.

The stalks were twiggy, but digestible. And eventually I ate them, or did not eat them, with prejudice. If they wound up in the garbage, no love lost.

Cilantro versus parsley became caribbean versus latin. I missed the bodega movement of New York. West indian food shifted from new york to the DC area. But my parents brought their caribbean ways with them from NY to Florida. While there was also a vegetarian shift, parsley remained, the flavor of choice until the twenty first century.

My daughter was born in 2002. I'm glad they're both still here. Next time we'll talk about water crest and spinach.