After the Savoy Truffle....

Meaning well yesterday a colleague offered to bring me back one of those ready made in a plastic bowl salads while they were out doing errands. I have to assume my long ears and pronounced teeth, coupled with my fluffy tail led him him to conclude I am a rabbit. Perhaps all those unopened boxes of Trix gave it away.

I appreciated the offer and when he returned with my lunch I was surprised to see one packager's idea of a salad included pieces of a cold, hard-boiled egg. I guess the idea is to just mix it into the lettuce along with the three grape tomatoes and the cubes of turkey breast, cover with cheese and black olives. I think not.

I like hard-boiled eggs, hot, for breakfast. I've yet to sort out if they're still bad for me or if the pendulum has gone the other way, again, for the third or fourth time and now they're good for me again. I wasn't paying attention. I understand many people like to make hard-boiled eggs the night before they go on a picnic, and peel off the shell and eat them with a dash of black pepper. No more for me, thanks, I'm driving, but you can put them alongside of the black olives as another foodstuff I'm not ever eating.

I know it's unfair and unkind to dislike a person you've never met or a food you've never tried. I regard my attitude on black olives, pumpkin pie and most seafood not so much as an unfounded, ignorant prejudice but as a time saver. I know, in the very depths of my being, I will not like any of those foods, so I just skip them. And if you're making a list, add rice pudding to it-that stuff is ghastly, though I've never actually eaten it. Ditto for hot oatmeal, instant or the kind that comes in the canister with the Quaker fellow on the front. Yeah, I know it's good for me-I've seen the TV commercials-but I can't get the spoon past my chin on the way to my mouth.
Thank you, fingers and hands.

Why couldn't God, or nature if you're not an Intelligent Design kind of person, make the stuff that's good for you taste good instead making brussels sprouts (which aren't on my list only because I'd feel bad about it) taste like I'm not sure what. Why can't we develop a hybrid artichoke that tastes like Godiva chocolate and to whom whould I address that suggestion? Ironically, considering how I've lived for many years, you'd think, based on the number of times I've had to eat crow, I'd have grown fond of the taste.
And, you'd be wrong......
-bill kenny