There are those of us who can be oh-so-peculiar about our likes and dislikes when it comes to this subject. Our finicky food preferences can make life interesting and/or hideous.
Consider planning a dinner party for eight. It wouldn’t be unusual to have a guest list loaded with picky eaters… maybe a vegan, a vegetarian, a cheese-hater, a couple of meat-and-potatoes guys rounded out by a few of what the late author Laurie Colwin called, “O-positives for hostesses”. The only solution to this menu nightmare is to have your dinner party at a restaurant where the professionals are trained to take the heat.
I am freaky about food. I behave at dinner parties because Momma taught me to mind my manners. But she would tell you I’m way weird about all things comestible. Oh well. My personal rules for wandering around a plate, in no special order, appear below.
- I am scared of animal skin – won’t wear it or eat it. Turkey and chicken are fine IF there is no skin, white meat only and totally cooked.
- Turkey sandwiches must be accompanied by Fritos.
- Pigs. I’ve got a problem with pigs. When I was very young and visiting my grandparents on their farm, I witnessed a pig execution. Obviously it scarred me, gastronomically speaking. So I only like pigs that are alive. I did feed my kids turkey bacon and all was well, until they went to my mom and squealed for pig bacon. Which they love. Just got an email from Miss Peach; she washed down some pig knuckles with massive amounts of beer in Munich. I am still gagging at the thought. Pork rinds and pig’s feet belong on their owners. Gak.
- Am terrified of frogs so I see no reason to eat their legs, even if they are dead.
- I love sweet tea and strong coffee. And yes, I am high-strung.
- A rather straightforward dinner plate is fine by me. You know, a bit of this, some of that.
- I despise the word “supper” … it’s so …. it’s so … peppy and creepy.
- Like most any vegetable raw – only eat cooked spinach, asparagus, and green beans. Exception: yams. Yuck. And green peas. Bleck.
- If I could, I would outlaw scrambled eggs. The smell, the texture, the EVERYTHING about them makes me ill. Had a roommate in college whose entire culinary repertoire consisted of scrambled eggs. Karma is a bitch.
- I love poached eggs. Go figure.
- Chicken salad is delicious just as long as I don’t come across any of those white, crunchy tendon things. Just grossed myself right on out when looking for proper name of tendons. Didn’t find it but did find the word pygostyle which would be chicken buttocks (what?) and people eat them (WHAT?). Chicken.
- I love fruit – all fruit.
- Am not a fan of sweet-n-sour anything. Don’t like my entree to be confused with dessert.
- I always order french fries when I order a salad. Always.
- Probably don’t even need to say that animal innards do not pass these lips.
- Love homemade Green Goddess dressing, almond anything, oatmeal, most soups, and all carbs.
- My Food Hall of Shame includes: jalapenos stuffed with tuna and the vilified orange marshmallow Circus Peanuts. Am sentimental about Jack in the Box tacos (my first fast food).
Obviously, I’m not a member of the Clean Plate Club. But I love to cook. Which brings up another aspect of food … cooking. There are actually people who debate whether talent in the kitchen is genetic or acquired. Not my battle. I have friends whose cooking rivals that of the best professional chefs and, on the flip side, there are those whose only culinary talent is stirring up trouble. But that would be a tale for another day.