I cannot reconcile the tomato.
I've tried. God knows I've tried, but I just can't do it.
When I was a child, I was beyond what some normal eaters might call "picky." I used to go to restaurants and order plain spaghetti, then sprinkle Parmesan cheese on it. I wouldn't touch cucumbers, green olives, peppers, strong cheeses, pears, any sort of fish, peas, broccoli (ironic, considering it's my last name), steak, pork, anything with visible fat, and a multitude of other foods.
My mother never tried to break these habits, because it made cooking dinner a lot easier. Though some people enjoy cooking, my mother does not. So it suited her just fine that all she had to make for dinner was a bowl spaghetti, and she certainly saved a bundle on groceries.
It was, however, known throughout the family not to take me to any restaurant that was buffet-style, as it would be a total waste on me. I would get a plate of lettuce drenched in ranch dressing, and my usual spaghetti a la nothing.
Over the years, I did manage to expand my culinary range. I can eat almost everything on my former banned list, and I even enjoy some of it.
The one thing I still can't handle?
Tomatoes.
To this day, if a tomato even touches something, I can't go anywhere near it. People who dislike tomatoes understand that it's the worst kind of food to dislike, because it's in every dish in some form or other, and it's a prevailing food item--meaning there's no way to ignore it once it's part of the meal.
Peas you can swallow, even if you hate them. A tomato's pulp gets on everything, so that those who like tomatoes and tell us non-believers to just "take it off the burger" clearly don't understand that it's an invasive vegetable.
In medieval times, people didn't eat tomatoes because they believed them to be poisonous. I never thought I'd have a reason to admire the Dark Ages, but that's a pretty good one.
Maybe in time, I'll grow to get over my hatred. Hopefully, I'll at least get to the point where I can look at a tomato without gagging.
Until then, there's always spaghetti.
I've tried. God knows I've tried, but I just can't do it.
When I was a child, I was beyond what some normal eaters might call "picky." I used to go to restaurants and order plain spaghetti, then sprinkle Parmesan cheese on it. I wouldn't touch cucumbers, green olives, peppers, strong cheeses, pears, any sort of fish, peas, broccoli (ironic, considering it's my last name), steak, pork, anything with visible fat, and a multitude of other foods.
My mother never tried to break these habits, because it made cooking dinner a lot easier. Though some people enjoy cooking, my mother does not. So it suited her just fine that all she had to make for dinner was a bowl spaghetti, and she certainly saved a bundle on groceries.
It was, however, known throughout the family not to take me to any restaurant that was buffet-style, as it would be a total waste on me. I would get a plate of lettuce drenched in ranch dressing, and my usual spaghetti a la nothing.
Over the years, I did manage to expand my culinary range. I can eat almost everything on my former banned list, and I even enjoy some of it.
The one thing I still can't handle?
Tomatoes.
To this day, if a tomato even touches something, I can't go anywhere near it. People who dislike tomatoes understand that it's the worst kind of food to dislike, because it's in every dish in some form or other, and it's a prevailing food item--meaning there's no way to ignore it once it's part of the meal.
Peas you can swallow, even if you hate them. A tomato's pulp gets on everything, so that those who like tomatoes and tell us non-believers to just "take it off the burger" clearly don't understand that it's an invasive vegetable.
In medieval times, people didn't eat tomatoes because they believed them to be poisonous. I never thought I'd have a reason to admire the Dark Ages, but that's a pretty good one.
Maybe in time, I'll grow to get over my hatred. Hopefully, I'll at least get to the point where I can look at a tomato without gagging.
Until then, there's always spaghetti.
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