When I was a child, my mother frequently served steamed carrots. No seasoning, no glaze, not good like carrots cooked in a stew or with a roast - just plain bald baby carrots. Oversweet, quite mushy, terrible. They made me (literally and I mean literally) gag at the dinner table, at which point my father would get annoyed and tell me to stop "putting on" (= faking/exaggerating). My pleas for any kind of substitute (except green limas) went unheeded. Can't count how many times I was left sitting alone at the table after dinner, just me and my now-cold disgusting soft carrots, for an hour or more until I had wretched my way through nibbling enough, or their patience had worn thin enough hearing me wretch from the next room, and they released me.
