See–they’re trying to hide them in the plate to the right…sometimes they even call them garbanzo beans (to throw others off). It won’t work–I know a chick pea when I see one.
OK, I admit it–There’s no rhyme or reason to my Hate List for food, but in that, I’m like most folks. Case in point: I HATE peas, those little green balls that turn to mush when I eat them, for they‘re ‘crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside’ (I think cartoonist Gary Larson used this line on a card he created, referring to why polar bears like to eat humans.)
It’s the same reason I abhor chick peas. I will never opt to sprinkle them on my salad, but I like them all smashed up in hummus, that natural, good-for-you food that’s a staple in most vegetarians’ diets. In spreadable form, I like it. So, isn’t that another contradiction?
Perhaps not…I guess it’s the texture of the peas that bothers me. Their transformation in my mouth grosses me out.
It’s the same seeming contradiction that operates when small kids hate spaghetti sauce on their pasta but love it on pizza. Yep, our little boys (grandsons) want macaroni naked–or with a little butter sauce. They don’t want grandma ladling gobs of marinara on the penne, tho’ that’s what grandma wants to do.
More food inconsistencies.
My own older daughter was a vegetarian from the age of 12- right up to 32. Then, she went through an amazing transformation. Yep, for many years, throughout her childhood, I needed to make separate meals for her as she foreswore meat. I’m shocked today as my erstwhile meat-hater walks about at festivals, chewing on a giant turkey drumstick, and I wonder: “Isn’t she struck by her hypocrisy?”
And more the point: “Couldn’t she have made that transformation earlier and saved me a whole lot of trouble?”
Speaking of that daughter, as a small child of three she hated mushrooms (what kid likes these?), so on one occasion, for dinner, when I’d made steak with mushrooms, I told her the little brown objects were ‘bon-bons’ (pretend the word is spoken in nasally- French accent by character Lumiere, “Light,” in “Beauty and the Beast.”)
It worked–she ate them.
I asked her later, “How did you like the bon-bons?” (asked animatedly, as if I expected a wonderful reaction), she said: “They’re good.” I noted from that occasion that if I dressed up a hated food, or called it something else, I had a chance of getting it past her.
But don’t think that ploy works on me. I don’t care what one does to chick peas. If they appear unexpectedly in a dish I ordered, I’ll herd them up, corral them on the side of my plate, and rout them out.
But I do like hummus….Go figure…..
Now, tell us about your own food peccadilloes. Which foods are in your “Hate category”? Is it the texture or something more profound that gets us to hate a food? Is food preference aligned with ‘Taste Bud Maturation‘ (for instance, as a child, I hated turnips but now I love them)?
If scientists could figure out why we hate the foods we do, perhaps we’d all have a shot at real dieting…
Now, here’s a recipe from Jamie Oliver touting a chick pea summer salad, if that’s your poison..You know I won’t be having any…But I better keep the recipe: My taste buds could change, when I hit my 70’s.