My mother-in-law had a lot of strange ways about her,
BUH-LEEVE me. Seriously, how could you
not like Coke? What kind of person does
not like chocolate? She didn’t. She liked dogs and horses though, so I dealt
her weirdness about the chocolate and Coke.
My daughter, of German heritage, did not like potatoes. What good little German child does not like
potatoes? She did not like much of
anything, really, and like me, had to sit at the table until she ate her
veggies.
Now I’m an ancient oldster, I’m realizing all my own food foibles. When other people don’t foods that I do, they
are picky eaters, when I don’t like something, it is because it is truly
nasty. Take asparagus, for example. Who thought of eating THAT? Yuck.
It smells. I’ve made a point of
telling everyone I know not to serve it to me, and time after time they say, “I
know you don’t like asparagus, but I know
you’ll like it once you try it the way I fix it.” Nope.
I won’t. Never have, never
will. Blame it on my mom, dear soul, who
fixed us canned asparagus and cooked the living daylights out of it so it
became disgusting green goo that smelled.
I sat at the table for days because of it.
I should like fish, I suppose, but it smells too. Not all fish.
I like fish sticks. There’s
enough breading on them to make them palatable.
I like fish with loads of sauce on them.
Hubby says that fish is really a vehicle for sauce anyway. Seeing how lots of breading and sauce isn’t
really good for you, I chose to eat other things. Expensive and smelly fish is at the bottom of
the list.
Then there are eggs.
Took me until collage to like them.
I like the taste but not the texture.
Still can’t eat them without toast.
Bite of egg, bite of toast. Put
some bacon with them and I’ll get through it.
But a naked fried egg on a plate is never going to make it to my mouth.
That’s the glorious part about getting old. We can push away things we don’t like on our
plate and no one is going to make us sit at the table until we eat it. Although these days, I don’t mind sitting
around.
But I came to the realization that I was truly weird when I
finally figured out that I dislike maple syrup, or anything maple. What is with that? What weirdo does not like maple syrup? Ah ha! So this is why I could never get warm
to pancakes or waffles. I love sweet
things, how is it I don’t like maple?
That’s just inexplicable.
Turns out my mother-in-law and I are two of a kind.
Oma!
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