Until my 20’s, ringer peppers and I were far, far, a long way from quick companions.

I saw the crunchy, green orbital vegetables with a look of scorn at whatever point they showed up on pizzas or veggie platter plates and as a youngster, creased my nose and plotted how to jettison each and every chomp in a napkin when my mother served them up for supper.

Yet, very much like taking comfortable vehicle rides on a Sunday evening, perusing books with long words you at last see however presently need perusers to see, and washing up (give me a tub all week long!), eating the food you detested as a youngster unexpectedly becomes not. that. awful. as a grown-up. Furthermore, now and then, even super great.

Furthermore, at whatever point I can serve a supper in its own vessel, it’s reward time. Enter, stuffed chime peppers.

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