"An Italian will eat anything green." – Joe's uncle.
This is my dad and my uncle picking broccoli raab on the roadside.
On Monday the boy and I joined them for a drive to the summit of Mt. Diablo. On the way up, their Old Italian eagle eyes spotted this wild growing veggie, so of course a pit stop was required on the drive down. Like his father before him, my dad has been picking this stuff from fields and roadsides for more than forty years. Sadly this is but one more tradition that will die out with his generation. I wouldn't know broccoli raab from poison oak.
While they loaded up one of the plastic bags that my father always has in his trunk, the boy and I were throwing large rocks up the slope into the broccoli raab patch. Why? Because when the rocks roll down the hill, the shaking broccoli raab looks like swaying tree tops, signaling the approach of King Kong.
Awesome; a new tradition is born.