I remember when I was young, the garden in my childhood home was filled with a cornucopia of plants. Some grew more successfully, others not so much. One of the less successful was our attempt to grow corn, which were rewarded by some of the ugliest, gap-toothed, bland corn that we had the misfortune of eating. But, I have to admit, it was fun for us kids to be able to experiment in the garden.
One plant that had more luck was my father's bitter melon. Not one person in the house liked them, except my father. And every time he asked the cook to serve some bitter melon, with pork or beef, he would undoubtedly tout the supposed health benefits of bitter melon and try to convince us kids to try them, which were greeted with silent thoughts and plans on how to kill this evil plant.
One plant that had more luck was my father's bitter melon. Not one person in the house liked them, except my father. And every time he asked the cook to serve some bitter melon, with pork or beef, he would undoubtedly tout the supposed health benefits of bitter melon and try to convince us kids to try them, which were greeted with silent thoughts and plans on how to kill this evil plant.

