I have never enjoyed vegetables. Yet I was raised in a home where vegetables were a regular part of every meal. When squash was offered, I would try to pass it by. Regardless of my attempts, though, my mother would remind me whose house I was in: her house. So I had to abide by her rules, meaning I would have to eat my squash. She knew I needed my vegetables, despite my distaste for them. In fact, she usually said, “Tony, it’s good for you,” as she scooped a larger-than-necessary portion onto my