7.11.2011

There's more to life than Mexican and Italian food; who knew?

I like to think I'm an adventurous eater. I'll try almost anything once, within reason. It's just a question of how to get me in the vicinity of something I haven't tried before. If you ask me if I want to eat sushi or Mexican, you better believe I'll pick enchiladas over a raw fish any day. It tastes better, and I get free chips. There's no contest.

Hello. Yes, please.

At family camp one year I ate fish sticks and enjoyed them. It was a blissful meal of ignorance, because I was under the impression I was eating chicken fingers. However, 10 minutes later when I walked by the menu board and discovered that I had just eaten (gasp!) fish, I threw the hissy fit of all hissy fits. Tears, screaming, an absolute terror. How could my mother have let me eat such filth? To this day, though I love fish, I have not crossed the line and eaten fish sticks again thanks to the negative stigma I attached to them at Trail West.

Conversely, I have always been gung-ho (tangent: where did that phrase come from?) to try anything in order to be polite. I don't need to impress my parents. They have to love me, so I'm allowed to be a snob in fish stick situations. However, other people's parents are a different matter. I tried goose liver at the age of 10 partially for this reason and partially because I couldn't understand what the French man who was offering the liver to me was talking about.

"Vould you like to try some....asrighldk pate jhvlkahigw...zees evening?"

There are very few 10-year-olds who know what pate is. Something resembling Spam spread across a piece of bread didn't look appetizing, but it didn't look vomit-inducing either. I assumed it was some spread that had cream cheese in it. No one else accepted, and I didn't want to hurt Frenchy's feelings. I should have taken the fact that everyone else was steering clear as a tell-tale sign that this questionable substance was bad news, but I didn't. So I ate the whole thing. How did it taste? DISGUSTING. No "meat" of such a consistency is capable of tasting good.

My warning to the world: don't eat liver pate. I've never had Spam before, but I'm assuming it would have similar results. Don't eat that either.



My point: I have become a person of habit who eats at approximately four different kinds of restaurants.

1. Mexican
2. Italian (I'm throwing pizza into this mix)
3. Delis
4. American (This encapsulates burgers, fried chicken, and the like)

That pretty much covers it. Thankfully I live in Texas so the opportunitites for Mexican and burgers are endless. And you can get a sandwich or Italian pretty much anywhere in this great country. Therefore I have tricked myself into thinking that since I eat at a variety of restaurants in Fort Worth I have varied taste in food. Not so.

This became painfully clear when I booked a dinner date with an old friend last week:

"Where would you like to go for dinner?" --A
"Oh, I'm open to anything." --B
"Do you like Greek food? There's this great restaurant closeby." --A
"...I've never had Greek food." --B
"Oh it's really good! You can get (insert list of foods I've never heard of before with the exception of gyros)" --A
"I have no idea what any of that is." --B
"What about a fun Thai restaurant?" --A
"Um, I've never had that either. What do you order at Thai restaurants?" --B
"Hm...how do you feel about French food?" --A
"Indian?" --A
"...." --B

Our food of choice for the night? Italian. Because apparently I'm a food wimp.

You'll be happy to hear that I broke the trend the other night and tried--wait for it it--GREEK FOOD! And guess what? I liked it! A lot. Everyone should go to Terra on West 7th. I highly recommend. Especially the zattar bread. (Don't I sound trendy talking about zattar bread? You might not know what that is, but I do because I'm trendy!)

I'm branching out one meal at a time. Thai food is possibly next. Indian food...we'll see.

And that is my little rant for the day. Up next: I freak out about the end of Harry Potter. Stay tuned to judge my nerdiness.

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