Can this Marriage Survive?
You know, everyone is always telling me I should also do restaurant reviews. Clearly, I love food and the right to fine dining should be enshrined in the Bill of Rights. However, I have a deep, dark secret (I know, I know, ANOTHER one) -- I'm kind of a picky eater. My mother swears that I was fine until I was three and then it all went to hell. It's probably part of what started my life-long love affair with condiments -- one of the few things I would eat was a mixture comprised of mayonnaise, ketchup, and red wine vinegar. I know I've blogged about it before and I'm too lazy to search back through my surprisingly extensive archives.
I would put that special dressing on everything - salad, carrots, liverwurst (Oh My God, that was the best and worst treat ever. I'm salivating).
Okay, but back to the idea of restaurant reviews. The picky eating thing has a bad effect on that. All these reviewers are like "And then we had the pickled quail eggs over Dover Sole stomach with a fricasee of sparrow nostrils." That just doesn't sound good to me. I like to get what I like to get. I wouldn't want to feel compelled to sample everything on the menu, especially if there was some nasty things on the menu. I don't care how high-brow your restaurant is, there are dishes on the menu that will always be nasty.
And those dishes usually contain zuchini and button mushrooms. Before I continue, I must note for you that that used to read "and all mushrooms," but in my later years, I discovered that I liked fancy expensive mushrooms (see some of my "switched at birth" posts). But I hate hate hate hate hate hate that demon zuchinni. I'm not even going to bother looking up the correct spelling.
I think it goes back to my organic Bay Area roots and the horrific proliference of zuchinnnii plants and that slime-of-the-earth output: zuchini bread. My stomach would clench in horror when some birkenstock beclad friend of my parents would flounce in the door and announce, "Hey I brought you some fresh-baked zuckini bread!" I still need special therapy.
Anyway, Mr. Mustard is Italian, half-Italian actually, but as a co-worker noted, "Even if you're only part Italian, you're all Italian." And it's been a sticking point in our relationship that I hate mushrooms, and zucchini and eggplant(!). But he's soldiered through the pain and suffering, occasionally resorting to what he resorted to last night: adding sliced mushrooms and yunchini to the top of his salad like a...like a...like a...condiment.
Look, I can get through dealing with those supposed foodstuffs as vegetables, but to turn them into CONDIMENTS?! In front of my face! That's adding insult to injury. I just don't know how I can go on. Sigh.
Condiment Grrl
I would put that special dressing on everything - salad, carrots, liverwurst (Oh My God, that was the best and worst treat ever. I'm salivating).
Okay, but back to the idea of restaurant reviews. The picky eating thing has a bad effect on that. All these reviewers are like "And then we had the pickled quail eggs over Dover Sole stomach with a fricasee of sparrow nostrils." That just doesn't sound good to me. I like to get what I like to get. I wouldn't want to feel compelled to sample everything on the menu, especially if there was some nasty things on the menu. I don't care how high-brow your restaurant is, there are dishes on the menu that will always be nasty.
And those dishes usually contain zuchini and button mushrooms. Before I continue, I must note for you that that used to read "and all mushrooms," but in my later years, I discovered that I liked fancy expensive mushrooms (see some of my "switched at birth" posts). But I hate hate hate hate hate hate that demon zuchinni. I'm not even going to bother looking up the correct spelling.
I think it goes back to my organic Bay Area roots and the horrific proliference of zuchinnnii plants and that slime-of-the-earth output: zuchini bread. My stomach would clench in horror when some birkenstock beclad friend of my parents would flounce in the door and announce, "Hey I brought you some fresh-baked zuckini bread!" I still need special therapy.
Anyway, Mr. Mustard is Italian, half-Italian actually, but as a co-worker noted, "Even if you're only part Italian, you're all Italian." And it's been a sticking point in our relationship that I hate mushrooms, and zucchini and eggplant(!). But he's soldiered through the pain and suffering, occasionally resorting to what he resorted to last night: adding sliced mushrooms and yunchini to the top of his salad like a...like a...like a...condiment.
Look, I can get through dealing with those supposed foodstuffs as vegetables, but to turn them into CONDIMENTS?! In front of my face! That's adding insult to injury. I just don't know how I can go on. Sigh.
Condiment Grrl
posted by CondimentGrrl at 9:18 PM
3 Comments:
Found your blog by clicking "Next blog". What a...um...treat to find as many spellings for zucc...zuch...courgettes as there are recipes for the bread that contains that vegetable.
When mi madre went back home at the beginning of the month, she left me with several boxes of groceries, canned good, & items from the fridge, which included about eight mini-loaves of what I eventually discovered were zuchinni breads.
I like teh zuch's, so I wasn't angry, but boy - eight loaves! Even teen-tiny loaves is a lot to get through, particularly since my freezer is smaller than a breadbox as it is, so I've been having to eat about a half a loaf a day so as not to waste them.
On the plus side, they've not got much zuchinni in 'em, so far as I can tell, and the way my mom makes 'em, they probably have enough fat and sugar in them to give an army clogged arteries, so they stay extra-rich-and-moist in the fridge.
But still, a lot of zuchinni bread to get through...
Enjoying your blog.
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