Morning all, settling in with a hot cup of Lapsang Souchong. I’m reasonably happy, and my gut is riled. Therefore, trigger warning, I’m going to talk about foods that just don’t work.
You would think, that as a heavy smoker, I’d have a busted taster. However, there are just some things that will never make my ash encrusted mouth happy.
When I was a child, I had a sadistic demon for a step-mother. This scheming con-artist decided that she was the next Jacques Pepin, or Julia Child. She was not. She noticed that us kids liked pizza. So, one day she made us pizza, in a cake pan. The ‘crust’ was soggy, slimy egg-plant. Needless to say, it didn’t go over so well. It was eaten, but that was only because we were beaten if we wasted food.
Pheasant. Coming from a state where the ring-tailed pheasant was king. You would think that growing up on a farm, that this would be a meal I would look forward to. Not so much. Have you ever gotten food poisoning because your parent not only left it out on the feather too long, but also put enough salt on it with cream of mushroom soup to destroy the nasty? The salt didn’t work, by the way.
Bananas. When I was little, I loved them. However, when they became the only fruit brought into the house for years and years. I lost the joy of a good nana. Now, even the smell is horrifying.
I’m guessing that you are getting the point here. The list goes on and on.
Brussels sprouts. Egg plant. Both are undeniably to my taste, bitter. I’d rather smoke a rancid cigar.
Duck. A gorgeous and adorable bird. Just no.
Any critter I have personally raised from a baby. They become pets.
Macaroni noodles in chili. Make the chili, add enough macaroni noodles to dilute the taste to basic mush. Over cook the noodles. It’s one of my husband’s favorite meals. It is the reason I’m currently having a rumbly tummy, and is not food. It stopped being food the moment he brought out the noodles.
Goulash with diced potatoes. See the above paragraph.
Anything made at a potluck. The worst case of food poisoning I ever had lasted over a week. It was from a recovery potluck. I lost weight, lots of it, but not in a good way.
That’s about it. Usually, if I don’t like something, there’s a crap memory involved. Or, there’s a beating involved from childhood. I don’t have any contact with my natal family anymore. I’m too busy trying to deprogram the ick from the sick of my childhood.
Huge hugs all, if you happen to like bananas, or some of the above foods. You can certainly have my portion, except for the stuff that made me biologically ill. That we just need to leave in the past.
Have a lovely day. -L
AnonymousKnitter 